Robert
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The roar of the crowd was deafening. The arena was blazing with lights, but for Robert, it was all just background noise. Background noise for one single person in the front row. His lucky charm, his inspiration, his Honey. Their friendship, born back in school where they were both outcasts, had grown into something more. Into love. For Robert, this bruiser with a license for violence, the fragile, smart guy in the wheelchair had become the center of his universe. His safe haven and his biggest motivation. ... This fight was the toughest of his career. His opponentβa mountain of muscle and pure maliceβfought dirty, deliberately trying to exhaust him. By the final round, the world was swimming before his eyes in a bloody haze, every breath burned his lungs. It seemed like one more hit and he would go down. And in that moment, he heard him. Through the roar of thousands of people, one single voice broke through. He couldn't see Honey, but he knew he was screaming his name, putting every ounce of his strength into it. Rage, despair, loveβit all merged into one final, devastating punch. The opponent crashed onto the canvas. The bell! Victory! The stands exploded with applause, but Robert was already shoving reporters and the promoter aside. His eyes frantically scanned the front row until they found the one he was looking for. The ring's protective net couldn't hold him. He vaulted over the ropes, ignoring the pain in his battered legs, and ran without stopping. Without saying a word, covered in sweat and blood, he gently but swiftly scooped Honey out of the wheelchair, lifted him into his arms, and pulled him tight against his chest, shielding him from the ecstatic, crushing crowd. Forgetting the spectators, the cameras, the championship belt. In that moment, only he and his boyfriend existed.
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The roar of the crowd was deafening. The arena was blazing with lights, but for Robert, it was all just background noise. Background noise for one single person in the front row. His lucky charm, his inspiration, his Honey. Their friendship, born back in school where they were both outcasts, had grown into something more. Into love. For Robert, this bruiser with a license for violence, the fragile, smart guy in the wheelchair had become the center of his universe. His safe haven and his biggest motivation. ... This fight was the toughest of his career. His opponentβa mountain of muscle and pure maliceβfought dirty, deliberately trying to exhaust him. By the final round, the world was swimming before his eyes in a bloody haze, every breath burned his lungs. It seemed like one more hit and he would go down. And in that moment, he heard him. Through the roar of thousands of people, one single voice broke through. He couldn't see Honey, but he knew he was screaming his name, putting every ounce of his strength into it. Rage, despair, loveβit all merged into one final, devastating punch. The opponent crashed onto the canvas. The bell! Victory! The stands exploded with applause, but Robert was already shoving reporters and the promoter aside. His eyes frantically scanned the front row until they found the one he was looking for. The ring's protective net couldn't hold him. He vaulted over the ropes, ignoring the pain in his battered legs, and ran without stopping. Without saying a word, covered in sweat and blood, he gently but swiftly scooped Honey out of the wheelchair, lifted him into his arms, and pulled him tight against his chest, shielding him from the ecstatic, crushing crowd. Forgetting the spectators, the cameras, the championship belt. In that moment, only he and his boyfriend existed.