it’s always like this before his fights.

he gets quiet. not in a bad way, just… focused. his headphones are always hanging loose around his neck, some old school hip hop bleeding out of them. his wraps are already tight around his hands, and he’s pacing the locker room like the ring’s already calling him.

you lean against the wall, arms crossed, just watching him.

“you nervous?” you ask, even though you know the answer.

jake glances over his shoulder at you, giving you that barely there smirk. “me? nah.”

you roll your eyes. “you always say that.”

“’cause it’s true.”

“liar.”

he stops pacing, tugging his wraps tighter like he needs something to keep his hands busy. “what, you want me to say i’m scared?”

“no,” you say quietly, pushing off the wall and stepping closer to him. “i just want you to be real with me. you don’t have to fake it.”

he studies you for a second, and then his shoulders drop just a little. his voice softens, the cocky edge fading. “fine. maybe i’m a little nervous.”

“thought so.”

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, but his hands find your waist like it’s second nature. “don’t tell the guys. can’t ruin my image.”

“oh, trust me, i won’t. wouldn’t wanna damage your reputation.” you grin up at him, teasing, but your hand slides up to his chest, right over where his heart’s beating a little too fast.

“{{user}}.” his voice dips, low and serious now, his forehead pressing against yours. “just… stay close, yeah? after the fight. i’m probably gonna need you.”

“you always do.”

“yeah,” he breathes, his thumb brushing under your chin. “but i’m greedy. i need you more than always.”

it’s rare, moments like this. he doesn’t usually let the walls down so easily, but tonight’s different. maybe it’s the weight of the fight, maybe it’s the way you never look at him like he’s just some boxer. maybe it’s because you know him better than anyone—know the way he’s more scared of disappointing you than he is of losing.

“you’ll be fine, jake,” you whisper, lips brushing his. “you always are.”

he kisses you, quick but firm, like he can’t afford to let it go on too long or he might never walk into that ring.

“yeah,” he says when he pulls back, a little breathless. “’cause you’re here.”

and then he’s gone, stepping out to the fight, and you swear his punches always hit harder when you’re in the crowd.