Work Text:
"Er... Excuse me? Monsieur Kaiser?"
Glass Joe gently knocked on Von Kaiser's changing room door, his lips pursed in concern. He initially became quite perturbed when he saw the state of Kaiser earlier.
The man seemed stressed, that much was obvious. His hair was un-brushed, the bags under his eyes were more prominent than usual, and he was sweating buckets, murmuring something.
Joe didn’t know exactly what he was murmuring, as he himself didn’t understand German other than very simple phrases, but he could tell from the tone of the man's voice that it was probably something bad.
"C'est, uhm... C'est Joe. M-May I come in?"
Joe stepped inside carefully when he heard the faintest grunt of approval. The light was dim ― just the fluorescent bathroom bulb humming behind Kaiser as he leaned over the sink.
Joe didn’t speak. He just stood there for a moment. Watching the way Kaiser’s shoulders rose and fell like he was being held down by invisible weights.
He walked over. Quietly. Slowly. Like approaching a frightened dog.
"I, uhm... I brought water," Joe said as he took one final, hesitant step, placing the small bottle on the counter beside them.
Von Kaiser didn’t reply. But he did blink at the mirror, like he was just remembering he had a face.
"D-Danke," came the eventual whisper. Dry. Tired. But real.
Joe lingered beside him, unsure if he should sit, or speak, or just disappear into the floor. The silence between them stretched, taut as a boxing glove’s laces.
"I saw you earlier," he said quietly, his fingers twisting the hem of his sleeve. "You looked… um… not good."
Kaiser gave a small, huffing breath. Not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.
"I know," he murmured. His voice was low and flat, like it had been drained through gravel. “It is not… my best day.”
Joe nodded, even though Kaiser wasn’t looking at him.
"You do not have to tell me what happened. I just…" He hesitated, then went for it. "I know what it feels like. To be in a place that’s loud even when it’s silent."
That made Kaiser twitch — barely. Just the tiniest movement of his hand as it gripped the edge of the sink.
Joe’s voice softened, as if afraid the next sentence might shatter something sacred.
"My coach once said… 'You don’t win by punching the hardest. You win by staying up when the bell rings.'" He laughed, embarrassed. "I guess that was about boxing, but I… I think about it when it’s bad."
There was a pause. Then another soft 'Danke.' Barely audible. But this time, Kaiser’s grip on the sink loosened.
Joe didn’t move. He just stood next to him, breathing in rhythm, until it felt like the walls weren’t crushing anymore.
Joe sat down on the bench nearby, just out of arm’s reach.
He didn’t say anything more. Neither did Kaiser.
But after a while, the light didn’t feel so harsh. And the silence didn’t feel so loud.