The VIP hallway behind the arena felt strangely detached from the chaos outside.

The roar of the crowd still carried faintly through the concrete walls, deep bass vibrating underfoot while distant chants echoed somewhere farther down the corridor, but the noise had dulled enough for Lucien to finally hear his own breathing again.

People rushed past him toward the exits carrying drinks, merch bags, and half-finished conversations while he moved the opposite direction with Leon's backstage pass clenched in one hand.

He still wasn't completely sure why he'd agreed to come.

A security guard scanned the pass, glanced at the screen, then immediately stepped aside.

"Locker rooms are down the hall."

The heavy door clicked shut behind him.

A tall guy with dark curls was leaning against the wall outside the changing rooms, scrolling through his phone with the exhausted posture of someone who'd been awake too long. The second he looked up and spotted Lucien, his entire face lit with recognition.

"There he is," he announced loudly, straightening. "Overall kid."

Lucien slowed instinctively.

The stranger pointed at him with complete confidence. "C'mere. Leon sent me."

There was something disarming about people in America. Everyone talked like they'd known each other for years already.

Lucien hesitated for only a moment before walking over.

The guy immediately slung an arm around his shoulders.

"I knew it was gonna be you," he said. "Leon asked me to pick somebody up and I thought, no way. No fucking way. Then I saw the overalls."

Lucien nearly tripped over his own feet.

"What's wrong with my overalls?"

"Nothing," the guy said solemnly. "They're memorable."

Then he grinned.

"Also, I've never seen Leon clean a beach for anybody before."

Heat climbed up Lucien's neck almost instantly.

"You saw that?"

"Oh, we all saw it." The guy laughed. "Whole team was there. Man looked like he wanted to kill somebody while picking up soda cans. Funniest thing I've ever—"

His voice cut off abruptly.

The arm around Lucien's shoulders disappeared so fast it practically teleported.

Lucien turned instinctively.

Leon stood several feet away near the locker room entrance, arms folded across his chest.

He'd changed clothes already.

The black compression gear from the fight was gone, replaced with a dark hoodie and loose sweatpants, but somehow he looked even bigger now without the bright arena lights and screaming crowd to dilute him.

The fluorescent lighting sharpened the angles of his face, turning his expression unreadable.

The curly-haired guy beside Lucien took two careful steps backward.

"Well," he said briskly, "drop-off complete. I'm gonna head to the car before your boyfriend caves my skull in."

"I'm not his boyfriend," Lucien blurted immediately.

Leon's gaze shifted toward him.

Calm.Direct.

Lucien suddenly wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

The other guy snorted.

"Sure."

"Leon," Lucien said quickly, trying to redirect the conversation before he spontaneously combusted, "your friend is weird."

"My friend talks too much," Leon replied.

"That's because silence makes me anxious," the guy said defensively.

Leon looked at him for one long second.

"Joey."

"Right. Leaving."

Joey lifted both hands in surrender before heading down the hallway muttering something about abusive work environments.

The corridor quieted again after he disappeared.

Leon looked back at Lucien.

The coldness in his expression softened almost immediately, subtle enough that Lucien probably wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't spent the entire night watching Leon's face from the crowd.

"You stayed until the end."

Lucien blinked.

"Obviously."

Leon's eyes lingered on him for another second.

"You looked nervous during round eight."

Lucien's heartbeat stumbled.

"You saw that?"

"I saw you the entire fight."

The words landed heavily between them.

Lucien suddenly became very aware of the empty hallway around them.

Very aware of how close Leon was standing.

Very aware of the fact that this man had walked out into a stadium full of screaming people, knocked another fighter unconscious in front of thousands, and still somehow noticed one nervous college student gripping the edge of his seat.

"That's kind of creepy," Lucien mumbled weakly.

Leon's mouth curved slightly.

"You still came."

Lucien looked away too quickly.

He could feel heat crawling into his ears again.

This was becoming a serious medical issue.

Leon stepped closer before draping his jacket over Lucien's shoulders.

The fabric smelled faintly like sweat, detergent, and something colder underneath that belonged entirely to Leon himself.

Lucien nearly drowned in it.

"You're freezing," Leon said.

Only then did Lucien realize his fingers actually were cold.

"That's because your job is horrifying."

Leon gave a quiet huff of laughter.

"You hated it that much?"

"I think I lost ten years off my life in round ten."

"The liver shot?"

"You remember the exact punch?"

"I remember looking at you after."

Lucien stared at him.

Leon said it casually, like this entire conversation wasn't making Lucien's pulse go completely unstable.

"You looked like you were about to throw up," Leon added.

"That's because you got punched by a truck."

"It wasn't that hard."

Lucien looked genuinely offended on behalf of human anatomy.

"You people are insane."

Leon laughed again, softer this time.

The sound did strange things to Lucien's nervous system.

He followed Leon down the hallway toward the exit, still wrapped in the oversized jacket.

Halfway there, his fingers brushed against something inside the pocket.

Small. Soft. Round.

Lucien frowned slightly and pressed against it through the fabric.

"What's in here?"

Leon glanced down briefly.

"Lucky charm."

"For the fight?"

"Mhm."

Lucien looked immediately impressed.

"So Western athletes are superstitious too."

Leon's expression stayed perfectly neutral.

"You say that like you expected better from us."

"I did," Lucien admitted.

Leon gave a low laugh under his breath.

"Well," Lucien said seriously, patting the pocket once, "it worked."

Leon looked at him for a moment longer than necessary before opening the exit door.

Cold night air rushed in immediately.

If Lucien had reached fully into the pocket right then, he would've discovered that Leon's so-called lucky charm was the tiny sheep tail ripped from Lucien's costume the night they met.

Leon had carried it through the entire fight.

—

Two silver SUVs waited behind the arena.

Most of the team had already crowded into the first one, their voices carrying loudly across the parking lot.

The second vehicle held only the driver and Joey, who was sprawled across the backseat looking half asleep.

The moment Leon opened the door, Joey sat upright instantly.

His eyes landed on Lucien.

Narrowed.

Shifted to Leon.

Then back to Lucien again.

Like he'd just spotted evidence in an active crime scene.

"Oh," Joey said slowly. "Oh, now I remember you."

Lucien paused halfway into the car.

"That doesn't sound good."

"You're the sheep."

Lucien froze.

Joey pointed dramatically. "Party sheep!"

Memory hit instantly.

The guy kissing two people at once.

Right.

That guy.

Joey leaned forward between the seats, horrified realization spreading across his face.

"Wait a second. Leon left that party with you?"

Lucien's soul began leaving his body.

"It's not what you think—"

"Leon Vance," Joey interrupted, clutching his chest, "you absolute liar."

Leon climbed into the seat beside Lucien and shut the door.

"You have ten seconds before I strangle you unconscious."

"You disappeared for hours!" Joey continued, ignoring him completely. "Meanwhile I thought you'd gone outside to murder somebody."

"That was technically still possible," Leon said.

Joey gasped dramatically. "You really did hook up with the sheep boy."

"We did not hook up," Lucien said immediately.

Leon turned his head slightly toward him.

The movement was small, but Lucien still felt it.

Like all of Leon's attention had settled directly onto him again.

Joey squinted harder.

"Oh my God," he whispered. "You're serious."

"We met once," Lucien said desperately.

"Yeah," Joey replied. "That's usually how meeting people works."

Lucien considered opening the car door and throwing himself onto the pavement.

Beside him, Leon finally reached forward and grabbed Joey by the throat one-handed.

Not hard enough to hurt.

Just enough to shut him up.

"If you keep talking," Leon said mildly, "I'll leave you on the highway."

Joey wheezed around the grip.

"You're so hostile when you're in love."

Lucien stopped breathing.

Leon's expression didn't change at all.

"That word seems dangerous for your health."

Joey raised both hands immediately.

"Understood."

Leon released him.

The rest of the drive passed with Joey humming under his breath and repeatedly looking like he wanted to say something stupid before thinking better of it.

Lucien spent the entire ride staring out the window pretending his life wasn't becoming increasingly insane.

—

Dinner turned out to be much less terrifying than expected.

Mostly because Leon never left him alone long enough to panic properly.

The restaurant had private rooms separated by dark wooden dividers, warm lighting softening the sharp edges of the athletes crowded around the table. Lucien sat beside Leon while everyone else spread themselves naturally farther down, giving them space without making it obvious.

Nobody interrogated him.

Nobody asked weird questions.

Several enormous professional fighters smiled at him with the careful politeness people usually used around nervous animals.

Lucien slowly realized Leon had probably threatened everybody beforehand.

The thought should've concerned him more than it did.

Instead, it made something warm settle unexpectedly in his chest.

Conversation drifted around him while he focused on surviving dinner quietly.

Then a server appeared carrying a small clay pot.

Steam rose the second the lid lifted.

Chicken and mushroom congee.

Lucien stared.

This place specialized in steak.

Leon picked up a bowl and filled it naturally, like he'd planned this hours ago.

"The chef knows a few Chinese dishes," he said. "I asked them to make something lighter for you."

The first spoonful nearly made Lucien emotional.

Warm rice. Soft chicken. 

After weeks of bad campus food and instant noodles eaten at two in the morning, it tasted painfully close to home.

Lucien lowered the spoon slowly.

"Leon," he said with complete sincerity, "you might actually be the nicest person alive."

Across from them, Joey gagged theatrically.

Leon ignored him completely.

"Really?"

There was something unreadable in his eyes suddenly.

"Then come to the ranch with me next weekend."

Lucien blinked.

"…The ranch?"

Joey immediately leaned across the table again despite Leon's visible disappointment in him.

"Leon owns several," he said. "Horses, cattle, sheep, the whole terrifying cowboy starter pack."

Lucien turned slowly toward Leon.

"You own a ranch?"

"Several."

"You fight professionally."

"Mhm."

"You also have ranches."

"Yes."

Lucien stared at him for a long moment.

"What exactly do you do all day?"

The corner of Leon's mouth lifted slightly.

"You'd be surprised."

Then he picked up Lucien's bowl again before adding calmly:

"There are lambs there this time of year."

His gray-blue eyes settled on Lucien steadily.

"I think you'd like them."