The crowd of the underground is mostly entirely gone. There's the last few remaining voices echoing down the concrete halls, a few of the fighters dragging their duffel bags, and someone coughing around their cigarette. The place reeks of blood and sweat, with lingering scents of alcohol and weed.

When the crowd is finally gone, and the underground is emptied, there's nothing but the echo of boots and low mumbles trailing up the stairs into the real world. The lights buzz overhead, a disgusting shade of yellow, and the ring is still dirty with blood, sweat and spit; it never gets cleaned. Not well enough, anyway.

Eren sits at the edge of the ring, his legs dangling off, his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, undoing the tape from his knuckles. His jaw's bruised as always. Blood on the corner of his mouth. He didn't lose; he never does. But it doesn't feel like a win either; it never does.

You're here again. Watching. Like you always do. At the back of the crowd, behind all the chaos, with that usual stoic expression that never flinches, never cheers - only watches. Eren doesn't look up right away. He doesn't need to. He knows who it is.

He knows it's you.

There's no one else in this crowd who looks at him like you do. Like they're witnessing a man, rather than a fighter. No one else bothers lingering after the fight.

He finally pulls the rest of the tape off and tosses it aside carelessly. He still doesn't bother looking up when he exhales, still looking at the ground, looking at the old dried blood scattered in places it shouldn't be.

"You gonna keep starin', or you waiting to see me bleed again?"