Rfc - Damaged Love - Damaged Bottom, Sexystache... Info

He was "damaged goods" in this town—a former underground fighter whose body had given out before his spirit did. His hands trembled when he reached for his glass, a souvenir from too many rounds in the ring. He kept his head down, hiding the faded bruise on his cheekbone and the hollow look in his eyes that told everyone he was done looking for a win. Then, the heavy oak door groaned open.

Miller reached out, his large, calloused hand hovering over Elias’s trembling fingers. He didn't grab them—he waited. When Elias didn't pull away, Miller settled his hand down, steadying the shake with a calm, grounding heat. RFC - DAMAGED LOVE - Damaged Bottom, SEXYSTACHE...

Miller leaned in, the corner of his mustache twitching into a gentle, knowing smile. "Start with another round. And then, maybe tell me your name." He was "damaged goods" in this town—a former

"You look like you're carrying the weight of the whole world, kid," Miller said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. He didn't look away when Elias finally raised his gaze. He didn't look at the scars or the tremors; he looked at him . Then, the heavy oak door groaned open

For the first time in years, Elias didn't feel the need to flinch. In the dim light of the bar, under the steady gaze of the man with the silver-streaked mustache, the damage didn't feel like a permanent ending. It felt like a place where someone else could finally get close.

"Maybe you're not meant to lift it alone," Miller murmured, his eyes softening. "Some things are meant to be shared. Even the broken parts."

"World’s heavy," Elias muttered, pulling his jacket tighter. "And I'm not exactly built for lifting anymore."