MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

The automatic doors of the hospital slid open, and Joey stepped inside, the faint smell of medicines immediately hitting him.

With its clean white walls, distant hum of machinery, and soft murmur of conversations, the room had an air that Joey had always feared.

Hospitals were places of healing, but they also carried an undeniable weight of somberness, and today, he felt every ounce of it.

He walked down to the receptionist, his steps slow and heavy.

He got closer to his brother with each step, but it also made him feel things he couldn't quite put together. Read the latest on empire

Relief that his brother was alive. Anger at the situation that put him here.

Fear of what he would find when he stepped into that room.

Joey adjusted the strap of his backpack, his grip tightening on it as if it could anchor him.

His mind played through everything Victor had told him.

His brother was alive, but his knees were shattered, the facts of what had happened painted a very sad picture.

Joey couldn't help but feel a mix of guilt and helplessness.

Had there been signs he missed? Could he have done something to stop this before it got so far?

He shook his head.

Joey approached the reception desk, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling within him. "Visiting Jake Morales," he said.

The receptionist glanced up briefly, typing into her computer. "Name?" she asked.

"Joey Morales," he replied without hesitation.

She nodded and checked the records. "Room 314. Just down the hall, take the elevator to the third floor."

"Thanks," Joey said curtly, already turning toward the hallway.

.

.

.

Standing in front of the hospital room door, Joey paused, his hand resting on the handle.

Damon had offered to come with him, even Ashley had insisted on being there for support, but Joey had declined them both. He needed to do this alone.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the handle and stepped inside.

The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of machines. Joey's eyes immediately went to the hospital bed, and there he was, the man he had admired for as long as he could remember.

Jake Morales.

The Titan.

Joey's older brother, the one who had always seemed indestructible, larger than life.

But now, Jake lay bedridden, his legs propped up and encased in heavy casts. The sight was jarring, almost surreal. Joey's heart clenched.

This was the man who had taken them from homelessness, who had fought tooth and nail to give Joey a life worth living.

The man who had been a rock, a protector, and a guide.

And now, here he was, looking fragile in a way Joey had never seen before.

Jake's eyes fluttered open slightly, adjusting to the sight of his younger brother standing there. His breath hitched as recognition dawned.

"Joey..." His voice was hoarse, weak.

He tried to sit up, his movements sluggish, but the pain radiating through his body made him grimace.

His eyes darted around the room for a moment, as if trying to piece together where he was, before they finally settled on his knees encased in casts.

A heavy sigh escaped him as he laid back, defeated. The guilt in his expression was unmistakable.

Joey walked over, his steps steady, his face calm despite the mix of emotions brewing inside him.

He leaned down slightly, adjusting Jake's pillows and helping him settle back.

"You should rest before you start moving," Joey said, his tone firm but kind.

Jake looked up at him, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out.

His gaze dropped again, a flicker of shame crossing his features.

Whatever had happened, it weighed on him, and Joey could see it clearly.

Joey didn't press for answers.

Not yet.

Instead, he stayed by his brother's side, letting the silence fill the room as he offered quiet support.

Joey sat on the small sofa near the bed, leaning back with his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the floor.

The silence in the room was heavy, but Joey didn't seem in a rush to break it.

Jake shifted slightly, his gaze on his younger brother. "So… how's life?" he asked, his tone tentative.

Joey didn't look up.

He didn't answer, letting the question hang in the air before finally speaking.

"What are you gonna do next?" he asked abruptly.

Jake blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Joey glanced at him, his face calm but his eyes sharp. "What's your plan after this?" he clarified, nodding toward Jake's legs.

Jake exhaled, leaning back into the pillows.

He seemed to chew on the question, his jaw tightening. "I don't know," he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Joey nodded slowly, the weight of the conversation sinking in.

Jake looked up at the ceiling, his voice heavy. "With my legs like this… I need to find a way to make money for us. I'm sorry I couldn't send you anything the past few months. Things have been… complicated."

Joey's jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "You also didn't call. Or text."

Jake's eyes shifted, guilt flashing across his face. "I know. I'm sorry. Look, things will be fine. No need to worry, alright? I'll work something out."

Joey sat back, crossing his arms, his voice sharper now. "I'm not a kid, Jake. You can't keep treating me like one."

Jake's head turned toward him, surprise mixed with weariness. "Joey, I'm just trying to—"

"To protect me? To shield me from everything like you've always done?" Joey cut him off, his voice rising slightly. "You think I don't know how hard things were for you? For us? You don't have to carry all of it alone anymore."

Jake sighed, rubbing his temples. "I'm not trying to treat you like a kid. I'm just… it's my job to take care of you."

Joey leaned forward again, his tone softening but firm. "Not anymore. You've done enough, Jake. Let me help for once."