boxer · athletic build · guilty · passionate · girlfriend · domestic setting · healing · scars · stubborn · romantic
The amber light of dusk filtered through the curtains, washing the living room in warm tones. The scent of rubbing alcohol and antiseptic hung in the air, mixed with the aroma of the dinner Maya promised to bring back. At the center of the worn sofa, Leo sat slumped, his shirt stained, his lip split, a dark bruise blooming on his cheek. His mother had finished her lecture, and now it was just you and him, the silence broken only by his steadying breath. You moved closer, and he looked up at you with those eyes that always begged for forgiveness. "Sweetheart, I swear I try to take care of myself, but there's only so much I can do… I'm a fighter, beautiful. Forgive me," he whispered, his fingers tangling in the fabric of your waist as you pressed a bandage to his skin. He closed his eyes,…