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Spine Breaker: Ch. 5

Summary: Life in the mafia isn’t just about killing and maintaining order, but also maintaining their lives as 7 individuals becoming family.

Genre: Mafia!AU with fluff and mild angst

Pairing: None? Platonic OT7?

Chapter TW & CW: Violence, language, familial issues

Series masterlist

CHAPTER FIVE: “Hoseok’s Backstory: Holding the Devil’s Hand”

Hoseok dropped the empty bag onto the couch, preparing to pack it for his fight later that evening. He’d done this countless times before, but for some reason his nerves were a little on edge for tonight’s fight. Tonight he was fighting Park Jisung, someone he knew would be a tough opponent. If the bets were any indication, the odds were apparently in Jisung’s favor, so the chances were that if he didn’t lose entirely, Hoseok’s ass would at least get knocked around a fair bit.

Typically, he liked to watch matches so he could learn the fighting style of potential opponents, but he hadn’t watched many of Jisung’s fights. Jisung fought really dirty and did some serious damage to his opponents, which had made them hard to watch. On top of that, he was a grade-A asshole - constantly running his mouth the whole time and walking around big-dicking it like he was the hottest shit in town. Most of his opponents left with broken bones or through automatic losses by knockout, and every bit of each win went straight to Jisung’s head. It didn’t matter if he cheated or played dirty to win, either - most people with an ounce of decency would feel at least a glimmer of guilt for winning by such poor standards, but not Jisung. No, Jisung seemed to pride himself in winning this way, as though it proved he had ambition by being willing to do whatever it took to win.

That’s not ambition. That’s obsession and greed, fusing together into a disgusting monster that rears its head in the worst possible way. And fighting works wonderfully as a vessel to feed this monster, allowing Jisung to fatten it up with cheap fighting tactics.

Letting out a breath, Hoseok rolled his shoulders before stuffing his first aid gear and hand wraps into his bag. The wraps were necessary during a fight to keep his fingers and wrists from getting damaged, and the first aid kit hopefully wouldn’t be necessary. However, in the case that Hoseok gets a gnarly gash somewhere crucial, it’d be completely essential to his continuation in the fight. Following those were three water bottles, since there was no guarantee there’d be access to drinking water anywhere nearby. Lastly, he prepared a change of clothes in case the fight lasted too long. Generally, he’d be able to get back to wherever he was staying, but sometimes the fight would last way longer than he anticipated, and it was good to get changed before heading back. Especially when he crashed with Hyoseob, who had a tendency to have people over late - and Hoseok hated trying to wind down from his fight with people around. On those nights, he found a nearby convenience store where he could clean up in their bathroom, buying a pack of gum to convince the worker to let him stick around. Then he’d either wait for Hyoseob’s group to finish up or find somewhere else to crash for the night.

Look, it’s the best he can do right now, alright?

Sighing, he yanked the zippers of his bag shut, looping the strap up onto his shoulder. He silently slipped out the door, making his way through the hall and down the stairs until he emerged out into the night. As he shut the door behind him, he pulled his phone out of his pocket: 9:00. Perfect. He began his walk down the street, hands shoved back into his pockets. He didn’t shy away from the eyes of those he passed if he managed to meet them - rather, he met them with a kind smile. Or at least, he hoped they would receive it as such. Hoseok often tried to face others with a pleasant demeanor to mask the inner anxiety surrounding upcoming fights. There had been times where he kept his head down, avoiding everyone’s gaze in an attempt to remain focused. Those were the fights he lost; he got too inside his own head, forced himself into a funk he couldn’t bring himself out of, then promptly got his ass kicked for doing so.

Turning a corner, he approached a familiar convenience store he used to visit when he still lived with his family. They wouldn’t visit together by any means - it had been a long time since they did anything together as a unit - but he would often stop by alone to pick up something on the way home from school, or go there to get out of the house whenever things were just a little too stressful. Over time, it became a sort of safe haven and he’d gotten quite close with the workers and owner.

Of course, he hadn’t returned since his family kicked him out. It’d been weeks since he last visited, but there never was a reason to come all this way. There were closer convenience stores to Hyoseob’s place, and he even still worked at the one two doors down from their building. If he needed to go to one, he’d go there - one of his coworkers would give him discounts, or even free food. Who’d turn that down?

Besides, he was never in this neighborhood unless he was heading to a fight. The fights changed locations most of the time, just to keep the cops from knowing where they’d be. Only a few had been this way, but Hoseok never stopped in the old store. Part of him didn’t know what to say at this point, especially since they’d probably ask where he’d been. Sure, if he’d been gone for only a few days or a week or whatever, he could probably play it off. But it’s been, what, 3 weeks? 4 weeks? There’s no easy explanation for that, and the truth is too hard to talk about.

Passing by the store was the one time he planned to keep his head down, out of fear that if he looked in the window someone may recognize him and start asking questions. The chimes of the bells on the door caught his attention, though, mainly out of worry about running directly into whoever was exiting the store.

He definitely didn’t expect to see his father and sister walking out of the shop, both looking over at him and meeting his eyes. He knew he probably looked like a deer in the headlights, shock written stark across his face. For some reason, he expected them to acknowledge him somehow - even negatively.

But no, nothing. A clear indication of recognition hit both of their faces, but neither stopped. They pressed right past him, treating him no different than any other stranger on the street. Hoseok absolutely expected this from his father; it was his parents who kicked him out, after all. But Heeyoung? They weren’t exactly close, especially after he’d left, but to act like she didn’t know him at all?

Well, she had always been their father’s favorite - the man never even tried to hide that from anyone. For all Hoseok knew, she was reveling in basically being an only child now. For all he knew, they didn’t miss him at all - and it sure seemed that way with what had just happened.

Then again, they could be worried sick about him. His father could be the only one still harboring strong feelings; his sister could just be mimicking this to stay on his good side; their mother could be being eaten alive by the guilt of abandoning one of her children.

No, that’s not very likely. If that was the case, why force him out in the first place?

Hoseok continued on to the formerly abandoned warehouse, trying his best to stay out of his own head. It was ten times harder now, after running into his family. How was he supposed to not focus on that betrayal, that hurt? Hyoseob always told him to let it go, and he tried, he really did, but it’s difficult. It feels impossible when it’s staring you in the face, when it smiles at you as it twists the knife in your back just a little deeper. How the hell is he supposed to be chill or relaxed or whatever at a time like this?

Huffing, Hoseok kicked a rock that was laying on the sidewalk, watching as it skipped down and dropped into the street. All he wanted to do in that moment was fight to get this anger and hurt out, but the fight didn’t start for another half hour. Besides, he tried to not use his emotions to fuel his fighting - that was dangerous fire to play with, and there was a thin line between using it to your advantage to win and pushing too far and hurting yourself.

Hoseok turned a final corner onto the side street where the warehouse resided. It had worn away over the time it sat empty, the exposed brick crumbling in spots and each gust of wind causing the wooden beams to threateningly creak. The previous owner left very little behind, and with all of the remaining clutter pushed back against the walls, the center of the spacious room was left bare and available for a hardy match. Between its unassuming nature and being tucked away from the main street, it was the perfect location for fights.

Luckily, as he entered the building, he noticed it seemed that he was the first one to arrive, which is precisely what he preferred. He went over to a mountain of pallets, cartons, and boxes, inspecting a few of the boxes on the ground. One in particular looked less gross than the rest, so he dropped his bag off his shoulder and into it. Although there were people who attended the fights that he could likely trust to watch his stuff, he never risked it - he couldn’t afford to lose his wallet right now. Before closing the box, he dug into his bag for his handwraps and water bottles, pulling them out and setting them on top once he finished closing it so he knew which one was “his” later.

He began to warm up, jumping in place and bouncing from foot to foot. His mind kept settling onto the hurt and betrayal from before, no matter how hard he tried to focus on other things. It didn’t help that what he was here for - street fighting - was the major drive behind the final falling out with his family. It was always something eating at him from the back of his mind, but now that he had another confrontation with it head-on, it was screaming at the forefront.

Things would’ve just been easier if he’d done what his parents had wanted. They pushed him towards legal fighting - Taekwondo in particular - when they found that that’s where his passion lied. They swore up and down they’d support him, so long as he worked at it and put his all into it. His father had been a touch wary at first, worried about his son getting involved in such a field, but warmed up eventually. Hoseok had been so ecstatic when they started supporting him; nothing could match the elation he felt when they offered to help pay for a trainer. He felt like he was on top of the world, like no one could knock him down. His dream of becoming a professional Taekwondo fighter was coming true - he found a trainer through the gym he went to, and worked his ass off with training every single day. He was on cloud nine, his family was supportive and happy, everything was outstanding.

But that all changed a couple weeks later, when he showed up to the gym and his trainer wasn’t there. He tried again the next day, and the day after that, and each time the trainer failed to show. He even tried calling and texting him, and the asshole still didn’t respond. When he asked around at the gym, the general consensus was that Hoseok had been scammed and the “trainer” went MIA once he got his money.

Of course, Hoseok completely lost his mind over this. If his parents found out, they’d surely get much stricter with the fighting - or bring an end to it altogether. His journey to professional fighting couldn’t stop after it had barely even started. Hoseok had been able to taste what the success would feel like, even without having fought in any real fights yet, and he didn’t want to lose it already. He begged and pleaded with everyone he could at the gym to help him figure out something so his family didn’t kill him. Eventually, he got a job at the convenience store, just to try and make some money to help pay his parents back. It helped, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

When his parents did find out, they were furious, berating him up and down for trusting someone who’d do this, livid he hadn’t caught any red flags or warning signs that the “trainer” should’ve been trusted. They forbade him from fighting any longer until he paid them back, and at his core, he truly understood and felt that was fitting. He knew he’d fucked up, he knew he should’ve been more careful, and the last thing he wanted to do was make them suffer for his own faults. With the truth out in the open, he picked up more and more shifts at the convenience store, trying his best to save up enough to just pay them back. He even obeyed their wishes; he stopped training at the gym, just sticking to running or lifting weights. For a while, it filled the void - he missed fighting, but keeping active made him feel like he hadn’t given it up yet.

It didn’t last very long. Soon, he began itching to fight again. Catching glimpses of other people training just like he had at the gym made his heart ache. The temptation grew and he gradually watched the other fighters more and more, yearning to be in their place. Then one day, someone took notice of him watching, offering to let him spar with them. How was he supposed to say no? He craved it like an addict in withdrawals, and his willpower to obey his parents’ orders had been so weakened by this point that he couldn’t help but cave in. He tried to justify it in his head - there wasn’t anything wrong with just one little spar session, and it wasn’t like he was training for a career again.

The one spar session turned into two, then three. It began luring him back to the sparring area during his daily gym trips, seeking out those sessions with anyone who was there. It still felt harmless to him, though; it was just for fun, just to keep his energy and skill up while he worked on paying his parents back.

About a week into returning to fighting, he was sparring with another regular fighter, Yongsun. They’d sparred a couple of times but generally didn’t talk much, simply going their separate ways once they were finished. However, this time, Yongsun called him over before Hoseok had a chance to leave.

“You know, you’re pretty good at this. You could make a lot of money fighting.”

A short glimpse of hope had fluttered up in Hoseok’s chest, only to be choked down with disappointment and guilt when his parents’ words flashed back through his head. “I can’t, I’m sorry. Thank you though.”

“Why not?” Yongsun pried, confused by Hoseok’s rejection.

“I just can’t.”

Yongsun snorted, patting Hoseok on the back. “Alright, fine. But just think about it.”

From that point forward, Hoseok began sparring with Yongsun regularly, and the pair grew closer, chatting more after their sparring sessions. Hoseok opened up about being scammed - it was shocking that Yongsun didn’t know, considering most of the gym was aware and semi-sympathetic at this point. Yongsun often proposed for Hoseok to fight in some way, and Hoseok always turned him down, wary of being scammed again and not wanting to get involved with another trainer. Although he looked at Yongsun like a sort of mentor at this point, he stayed guarded, his parents’ disappointment in him looming over him any time he even considered taking him up on his offer.

“Why don’t you ever take me up on fighting for money?” Yongsun asked him after one session, the pair heaving their breaths from exertion, working on packing up.

Hoseok shrugged, fixated on unwinding the wrap from his left hand. “I don’t want to go against my parents, I guess. I’ve already disappointed them enough.” Hoseok glanced up at the older fighter, who was watching him with a curious expression. “Don’t get me wrong though, I really appreciate you offering to train me. I want to take you up on it one day, if I can.”

Yongsun broke out in an animated laugh, rocking back and forth as his body was wracked with it. Hoseok blinked blankly at him, thoroughly confused at the reaction.

“I don’t want to train you, kid. I want you to fight with me.”

Hoseok paused, knitting his eyebrows in even more confusion. “Oh. I mean, I still can’t...my parents would know if I was fighting in the league here.”

Having calmed down a little, Yongsun still wore an amused grin, shaking his head at Hoseok. “Not in the league.” He scooted closer to Hoseok, looking around as he did. He lowered his voice to little above a mutter, forcing Hoseok to lean in to hear properly. “There’s sort of an...underground league, if you will. But it pays even better than the legal shit.”

Hoseok drew back, surprised at this revelation. “Wait, really? That’s what you fight in?” Yongsun nodded, taking a swig of his water. “So, what, do you guys fight here in the gym on your own time?”

“No, we fight in a bunch of places around the city. Usually abandoned buildings.” Yongsun pushed off the ground, holding a hand out to Hoseok to help him up. “Look, come with me to the next fight and just watch. You can decide if you want to join from there.”

From that first fight, Hoseok was hooked. There was a rush that came with fighting in general, but illegal street fighting? That was on another level. He’d be lying if he said that the money didn’t matter, as well. Sure, it was against his parents’ wishes, but the convenience store just wasn’t making a dent in his debt fast enough. Just three wins would give him enough to pay them back, and then they’d hopefully be more lenient on him fighting. That’s all he had to do - just keep at it until then, and then he’d be okay to stop and move onto the legal Taekwondo league.

He only got more drawn in as he kept winning. Those three wins came and passed; he paid his family back, and just as he suspected, they gave him the greenlight to return to fighting. He should’ve just stopped at that point, he should’ve quit street fighting and sought out a real trainer to get him into the legal league. But he couldn’t. He loved it too much - enjoyed the thrill too much, revelled in the success too much. He enjoyed the leniency that came with street fighting, how the rules were much more relaxed than in legal fighting. It added an extra challenge to matches, though. There were some who leaned into the fact that a lot of dirty tactics were ignored by moderators. Although he didn’t resort to dirty tactics himself, fighting against them added to the rush, made the whole experience a thousand times better than it had been when he was originally training for the legal league.

Hoseok groaned as he punched the air, still bouncing on his toes. Why didn’t he just quit when he could have? If he’d just stuck to the plan, just quit once he was back in his parents’ good graces, he wouldn’t be like this right now. He wouldn’t be starving because he couldn’t afford to eat another meal today. He wouldn’t be stiff before his fight from sleeping on a lumpy couch. He wouldn’t feel so fucking lonely and disappointed in himself.

Shaking his arms out, he paced in a circle, loosening up his legs. A few people were beginning to gather, keeping to themselves and chatting in hushed tones. Hoseok rolled his neck, feeling it crack two - no, three times. God, he really needed to sleep on something better soon. He wouldn’t be able to keep winning if he kept waking up like he was half frozen from cryosleep.

“Hey buddy!” Yongsun greeted, slapping Hoseok on the arm as he approached. He dropped his own bag next to Hoseok’s box before straightening up and crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “How’re you feeling? Ready to fight?”

Hoseok merely shrugged before stretching his arms out.

“Where’s your energy? C’mon man!” Yongsun teased, reaching out to jokingly swat at Hoseok. Typically, Hoseok was quick enough to bat him away, but with being in this headspace, he didn’t even react. Yongsun immediately frowned, stepping closer to the younger fighter. “What’s wrong?”

Hoseok sighed, looking over his shoulder as more people gathered in the warehouse. “I ran into my family on the way here.”

Shock washed over Yongsun's features as the realization dawned on him. “Shit. How’d that go?”

Hoseok stayed expressionless, attempting to mask any hint of the voices going crazy inside of him. “Fine, I guess. They didn’t acknowledge me.”

Yongsun hesitated in an attempt to tread lightly around the sensitive topic. “Maybe they just didn’t realize it was you?”

“They knew. I could tell.”

A few beats passed, Hoseok loosely still stretching out as Yongsun shifted his weight from foot to foot. Hoseok didn’t blame him for not saying much - what was there to say? “Well, look, don’t let it get to you, man. Take your anger out on Jisung.”

As if on cue, Jisung and a crowd of people with him noisily made their way into the warehouse. Hoseok watched on as he continued to stretch, somewhat taken aback by the number of people following Jisung. The fights always had their fair share of spectators, but the sheer number of people arriving with Jisung and crowding around him in particular was astonishing. “They can’t all be here with him, can they?” Hoseok asked Yongsun quietly, chewing on his lip due to nerves.

“He’s popular. They’re all probably his fans,” Yongsun explained, voice flat with irritation.

Hoseok cocked an eyebrow, looking over at Yongsun. “He has that many?” Hoseok couldn’t hide the slight intonation of awe in his voice, clearly intrigued by the idea of having dedicated fans.

Yongsun nodded, expression still apathetic. “I don’t envy him. Things get dicey when you get more fans like that.” Noticing Hoseok’s confusion, Yongsun explained further. “It’s not...unheard of...for some fighters to get...let’s go with ‘overzealous’ fans.”

Hoseok tilted his head as he stretched his arms out behind his back and brought them up over his head. “What, like crazies?” Although he found the concept amusing, the humor was lost as he saw that Yongsun didn’t share it.

“Some of them can go stalker-level. They follow you around fight to fight, next thing you know they’re popping up at stores and by your home. And what are you supposed to do, tell the police? ‘Officer, this person is stalking me because they’re a fan of me - oh, did I mention I do illegal street fighting?’”

Hoseok grimaced as he began to understand just how bad a situation like that could be. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Before either of them could say much more, the moderator for the fight started gathering everyone together and preparing for the fight to start. Hoseok shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to Yongsun as he rolled his neck from side to side a few more times. He steadied himself with a few breaths as Yongsun placed his hands on Hoseok’s shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes. “You’ve got this, man. Don’t get too into your own head, just let that shit feed your fighting.” Hoseok nodded as Yongsun turned him around, clapping his hands down on his shoulders a couple times before digging his thumbs in to massage the muscles. He leaned in, mumbling quietly to be sure that only Hoseok could hear. “Kick his fucking ass.”

The crowd gathered around in a loose circle, with Jisung straight across from Hoseok. Jisung looked ready to kill him, eyes fierce as his jaw visibly clenched. He smirked as he met Hoseok’s eyes, both stepping towards each other. Hoseok refused to falter under his gaze, matching his intense glare with one of his own. The moderator between them cleared his throat before speaking loud and clearly.

“This is a no-holds-barred match up between Park Jisung,” the moderator gestured over to Jisung, the crowd cheering noisily for him, “and Jung Hoseok!” As the moderator gestured towards Hoseok, he noted the dampening in the cheering from the crowd. It was unsurprising, as he was a lesser-known fighter. He didn’t allow this difference in support to hold any weight; rather, he used it as fuel. Hoseok thrived in being the unassumed underdog. It just meant he had to prove himself, that he had a reason to win.

“This fight will go for three rounds, or until loss by knockout! Are both fighters ready?” The moderator looked between Hoseok and Jisung, both nodding and taking ready stances, their eyes never leaving one another. “And...fight!”

The moderator quickly stepped back away from the pair, watching intently from the sidelines as the two fighters approached each other. As Jisung approached, Hoseok noticed the other man likely took a more active offense approach with his fighting from the way he aggressively stepped forward. Hoseok was light on his toes, dodging as Jisung took a couple quick swings at him. He nimbly dodged a right hook from Jisung, ducking under it while using his right leg to swing out in a turning kick. His shin made contact with the side of Jisung’s thigh, causing the opposing fighter to stumble backwards in a failed attempt to dodge the kick.

Jisung’s eyebrows visibly furrowed in agitation, annoyed that Hoseok made first contact for the fight. It was Hoseok’s turn to smirk at him, slightly proud of himself. Jisung charged again, backing Hoseok towards the crowd behind him. This was one of the added challenges of street fighting: no ring. The fighters had to be mindful of their positions, otherwise they could easily collide with crowd members. There were no rules against crowd members getting involved in a fight, other than the understanding that the action happens between the two designated fighters. It was sort of an “unspoken rule” about the fights, something that bled over from the legal sport. However, in instances where the crowd strongly favored one fighter over the other, it was more likely to take place - even just through the crowd pushing one fighter towards the other. A seemingly small shove like that could throw Hoseok off balance, leaving him vulnerable and giving Jisung an opening. And with Jisung being so comfortable with fighting dirty, Hoseok didn’t want to think of how dangerous that opportunity could be.

Luckily, Hoseok had managed to learn a few tricks in the time he’d been street fighting, one of which being avoiding hitting the crowd. Managing to be mindful of his placement while fighting used to be quite difficult for Hoseok, and he actually ran into crowd members a couple of times early on. Thankfully, those matches weren’t too bad, and they didn’t involve themselves too much - but he highly doubted this crowd would do the same.

As he moved backwards, Hoseok veered left, trying to avoid backing into the crowd. Jisung continuously threw jabs and hooks towards him, but Hoseok continued to dodge them all, much to Jisung’s dismay. He was sure his ability to manipulate his opponent’s position in the pseudo-ring would come in handy if he ever fought legally as well, if that ever even happened. Though at this point, there wasn’t much reason to go fight legally.

Would his family take him back if he did?

Dammit, he was doing such a good job of not thinking of them, too. The pain from running into them at the shop came to the forefront of his mind, dividing his attention long enough to make him drag his feet a little too much. Jisung must’ve seen his slip in concentration, or maybe he’d just gotten lucky and landed one of the fifteen swings he just threw, and it felt like Hoseok just watched as Jisung’s right fist zeroed in on his jaw. The impact of his hit only managed to throw Hoseok off more, and suddenly Jisung’s left fist sunk into his stomach in a powerful uppercut.

With the wind knocked out of him, Hoseok hunched over, trying to retreat from Jisung. He knew the guy was strong, but he wasn’t expecting that. He managed to get just out of Jisung’s reach, righting himself and resetting his stance. The pair danced like this for a while, with Jisung pursuing Hoseok punch after punch while Hoseok fiercely swerved around each one. Hoseok was determined to not let Jisung make contact again, especially not by losing his focus thinking about - never mind that. Hoseok shook his head to regain his focus and zero in on the man in front of him.

At one point, Hoseok noticed as Jisung lunged just a bit too close to him, his feet too far apart to continue maintaining solid balance. Seizing this opportunity, Hoseok kicked out with his left leg, his foot making direct contact with Jisung’s waist. The impact knocked Jisung off his balance, causing him to stumble sideways with Hoseok closely following. Taking advantage of his opponent’s vulnerability, Hoseok threw a right hook followed by a left, connecting with Jisung’s side and then up to his chest. The opposing fighter blindly jabbed at Hoseok, managing to hit his chest and prompting Hoseok to back off again.

Once again, the fighters danced around each other, Jisung more conservative with his punches now that he realized they weren’t working. Jisung also appeared to be slowing in stamina, wearing himself out by his energetic fighting style. Hoseok maintained his own reserved style, saving his energy and plotting to outlast Jisung. At the very least, Hoseok could wait him out, let him wear himself down until he was too weak to properly fight against Hoseok’s onslaught. If he could just do that, he could secure a victory.

Jisung lunged in once more, again unaware of his disadvantaged stance. Although he was quite mindful of his placement regarding the crowd, it appeared that Jisung often was less self-aware of his body itself. He consistently broke his stance, and Hoseok wasn’t too sure if he simply was excellent at dodging Jisung’s attacks, or if Jisung wasn’t completely aware of where he was placing his hits. Hoseok had evaded the punches by side stepping to the right, putting Jisung slightly behind him and leaving him open to Hoseok. Hoseok quickly jabbed with the back of his elbow, striking the side of Jisung’s face before twisting and landing a hard punch on Jisung’s torso with his right fist. He bounced back before Jisung’s right hook could hit him, ready to dodge another.

However, before Jisung could follow through, the moderator interjected with a stern “time!” Jisung and Hoseok stepped away from each other, retreating to their opposite sides of the circle. Yongsun was waiting with a water bottle at the ready for Hoseok, holding it out for him. Hoseok took it and began drinking greedily from it.

“You absolutely crushed that first round!” Yongsun exclaimed, still using relatively hushed tones. “That one definitely goes to you. Just keep that same energy this round.” Hoseok nodded, panting as he tried to catch his breath. “He seems to lead with a lot-”

“-of punches, yeah. He leaves himself vulnerable,” Hoseok finished Yongsun’s assessment, handing the water bottle back to him.

“Exactly. Keep exploiting that.” Yongsun set the water bottle down on the ground before raising back up to look over Hoseok. “Need anything?”

Hoseok merely shook his head, working on regulating his breathing. He’d managed to catch it again, but now he worked on evening it out even more to relax some of the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The last thing he needed was to get too worked up and lose the lead he had.

“Fighters!” The moderator called, signifying the end of the rest break. Hoseok turned to face Jisung again, Yongsun patting him on the back before Hoseok stepped towards the center again. If Jisung had looked intimidating before, he looked monstrous this time around. He seemed to have come to terms with the fact that Hoseok had won the first round, and now he just looked pissed and out for blood. “On your ready…” The moderator trailed off, Hoseok cracking his neck as he readied his stance. “Fight!”

Unlike the first round, Jisung didn’t immediately launch into a pursuit of Hoseok this time; rather, the two fighters moved slowly, constantly facing each other as they moved in a circle. It appeared that Jisung was determined to fight more reservedly this round, possibly due to the realization of being unable to keep up the aggressive fighting style he had initially begun with.

The two stayed locked in a stand-off, and it appeared that Jisung was waiting for Hoseok to make the first move. Although he usually waited for his opponents to instigate things, Hoseok was riding on the high of having won the first round. He wanted to maintain that momentum, and he was worried that if he waited too long for the next round to really start, he’d lose it. Hoseok advanced on Jisung, not yet throwing any swings, only initiating movement. Jisung took the bait, throwing a hook that Hoseok smoothly evaded. However, Hoseok hadn’t expected to lean directly into a kick that hit him square on the calf.

Admittedly, Hoseok shouldn’t have been so careless as to not pay attention to the possibility of kicks coming his way, but to be fair, Jisung had really only thrown punches up to this point. Hoseok had assumed he just preferred to fight using his upper body and that he wasn’t comfortable using his legs. And where did that assumption get him? Knocked off balance while Jisung took advantage of his vulnerability, landing two consecutive punches.

Hoseok managed to break away, back up a few steps to give himself time to re-center himself. Jisung, however, didn’t give Hoseok a break, pursuing him and unrelenting in his assault. Hoseok kept backing up, trying his best to avoid each incoming punch and kick. Occasionally, Jisung would let up just a tad, but that was likely more to give himself a break instead of allowing one for Hoseok.

The crowd didn’t seem too pleased with the lack of action, murmurs of anger beginning to turn into yells. Typically, the crowds stayed relatively quiet - as quiet as a crowd of people could be, that is. It was another “unspoken rule” about the fights: avoid unnecessary noise to keep from drawing attention. Occasionally things could get a little rowdy, but most regulars would help calm things back down. This time, though, the crowd began to spew criticism towards the fighters, mainly directed at Hoseok.

“Quit running away!”

“Fight like a man!”

“Pussy!”

“Fucking coward!”

Although he tried his best to keep the comments from getting to him, he couldn’t help the irritation rising within him. He was already the underdog, but now he had to prove them wrong on this as well? Huffing, Hoseok pushed towards Jisung, aiming for a high kick. Jisung evaded, backing away from Hoseok once again. It felt as though the crowd’s critiques got louder, mocking him for missing. He had to land something, otherwise they’d just keep getting worse.

He lunged forward again, this time aiming a hook at Jisung and preparing to follow up with a jab. But Jisung blocked the incoming hook with his forearm, quickly reaching out and grabbing Hoseok’s shirt with his other hand. The arm that blocked Hoseok twisted, his hand latching onto Hoseok’s wrist. Now that Jisung had him in close quarters, he kneed Hoseok, hitting his upper thigh instead of his groin, as Hoseok assumed he’d meant. The blow pushed Hoseok back on uneven footing, but Jisung’s grip didn’t give. Hoseok threw as powerful of a jab as he could with his free arm, hitting Jisung in the ribs before Jisung kneed him again. This time, Hoseok was prepared and he twisted his hips away, ensuring that Jisung’s knee hit him on the hip instead of near his groin. He wrenched his right wrist, forcing Jisung to let go, and backed up as fast as he could to get him to let go of his shirt. However, Jisung’s grip still wouldn’t give, and both were thrown off balance by the movement.

The moderator intervened, pushing the two apart. “Reset.” Jisung let go of Hoseok’s shirt, turning to walk back a few paces. Hoseok watched as Jisung took a moment to fix his hand wrap before assuming a stance similar to Hoseok’s. The moderator swung his hand as a signal that they could return to the fight, and the pair resumed their slow moving stand-off. For a few pregnant moments, no movement was made from either party, both waiting to see what the other did. Sure enough, as it continued on, the crowd began to get antsy again.

“Come on!”

“Do something!”

“Kick his ass!”

“Get him, Jisung!”

That voice stood out above the others, sending an icy chill down Hoseok’s spine. It was familiar, too familiar, and he naturally scanned the crowd to find the voice’s owner. That sounded like his father - but there was no way he was here, right? He deliberately forbade Hoseok from street fighting, so there’s no way he would be here to watch a match for himself. Then again, his father was a strong believer in tough lessons. What if he was here to prove his point to Hoseok? What if he came to say “I told you so” and let him come back home?

For the short moment he looked, no face matched the one he was looking for. Suddenly, a sharp pain split across the back of his skull as Jisung punched him in the back of the head. Hoseok’s vision went fuzzy and blacked out momentarily. He was vaguely aware of Jisung grabbing his shirt again as another assault of punches was thrown at him over and over, though Hoseok was too disoriented to do much to counter it.

Again, the moderator intervened pushing Jisung off of Hoseok. “You pull anymore shady shit and you forfeit, Park.” The moderator kept them apart as both reset once more, Hoseok taking a moment to shake his head to clear his vision. He could vaguely see Jisung fixing his hand wrap again, but thought nothing of it as the two faced off once more.

This time, Jisung returned to his tactic from the first round, beginning his pursuit immediately. Hoseok shuffled away from him, feet dragging some from residual disorientation. He attempted to throw a kick and punch here and there, but nothing was landing. Luckily, nothing Jisung was throwing was landing either; each fighter was just barely out of reach of the other.

Occasionally, Hoseok blinked his eyes hard to try and keep his vision clear, finding it difficult to track Jisung’s quick movement. He knew he was using timid tactics at this point, but if he attempted anything more aggressive, he didn’t have the confidence he could land it properly without getting his ass handed to him double in the process. The punch that had connected with the back of Hoseok’s head was still disorienting, handicapping his abilities. He had to figure out some way to make it through to the break, some way to take back the lead that he was sure he’d lost at this point.

Jisung made a swift advancement on him, throwing a jab that caught him square in the jaw, which didn’t help with Hoseok’s vision problem. A hook followed, landing dangerously close to Hoseok’s eye and setting off a hot, stabbing pain across his eyebrow. A few gasps were audible from the crowd, and Hoseok was almost certain that something had been broken. Shortly after, an odd cooling sensation hit the same spot, confusing Hoseok but not stopping him from attempting to hit Jisung back. One punch had managed to connect with Jisung’s cheek, but as it did, something dripped from Hoseok’s eyebrow. Stepping backwards to evade anything from Jisung, Hoseok wiped at his brow with his forearm, not too shocked to see blood smeared across his skin when he lowered his arm.

Hoseok hoped there wasn’t much time left in the round, otherwise the cut could really mess with his fighting for the rest of it. He brought his gaze back up to meet Jisung’s, lunging at him to land another kick on his thigh. The pair exchanged blow after blow, things having heated up from the stalemate earlier in the round. Jisung had managed to land two punches directly on his jaw following Hoseok grazing Jisung’s ear with a poorly-timed jab. Hoseok continued having to blink hard, his vision still a little fuzzy from the blow to his head, as well as the mixture of blood and sweat from his exertion getting in his eyes. He aimed another jab at Jisung’s head, this time glancing off his cheek as Jisung evaded before landing his own jab on Hoseok’s clavicle.

Again, Hoseok blinked to clear the fluids getting in his eyes, but rather than it clearing away, the vision in his left eye became more blurred. He blinked again and again to try and clear it, but it just kept getting worse. To temporarily fix things, he tried to keep that eye closed, but this began to mess with his depth perception. He was essentially blind in that eye, and he was sure that Jisung noticed and was going to take advantage of it.

Sure enough, Jisung landed a couple rapid punches on Hoseok’s left side, connecting with his cheekbone and his clavicle again. Hoseok threw his own hook at Jisung, but he side-stepped to avoid it. Hoseok followed him with his “good” eye, turning his face to try and maximize the space that eye could see. He managed to block a few of Jisung’s hits, but he was throwing attacks at him too fast to catch them all. Another punch caught him where he assumed he’d been cut, and another hit him at the top of his sternum, scarily close to his throat. Hoseok tried to start taking up a solely defensive tactic, blocking everything he could, and it felt as though Jisung’s assault kept coming.

After who knows how long, the moderator called out “time!” Hoseok heard him clearly, and he was certain that Jisung did as well, but the assault didn’t end. The moderator called out again before getting fed up with Jisung not listening, physically pulling him off of Hoseok. Hoseok slowly made his way to his side of the circle, anchoring his left hand against his injured eye as he staggered up to Yongsun. Immediately, Yongsun grabbed at his hand and pulled it away from his face, inspecting the injury.

“Fuck, that looks deep.” Yongsun guided Hoseok to sit on a stack of wooden pallets, crouching down and digging through his bag to find some supplies to fix up Hoseok with. He pulled out a towel, wetting it with his water bottle before dabbing at the wound to clean up the blood. Hoseok winced, the area still sensitive, but didn’t dare pull away as he knew Yongsun was just trying to help. “I’ve got bandages, but I don’t know how much they’re going to help. This is bad enough you’ll probably need stitches.”

“May I?” A voice asked. The two looked up at a young man standing next to them, looking inconspicuous with his hood pulled up and hands shoved into the front pocket of the hoodie. He smiled warmly in response to the skeptical look that both Hoseok and Yongsun were giving him. “I’m a medical student, I can help.”

Yongsun glanced at Hoseok, who nodded in approval and slight desperation as he grimaced in pain. “Anything that’ll make sure I can keep fighting.”

Yongsun got up, moving out of the stranger’s way and handing him the towel. “Go for it. But if you fuck him up, I’ll kill you.”

“That’s fair,” the stranger chuckled, assuming Yongsun’s previous spot in front of Hoseok. Immediately, he pressed the towel up against the cut before talking to Hoseok. “I need you to keep this here for me.” As Hoseok followed his directions, the stranger turned his attention to Yongsun. “Can I see what supplies you have?” He asked, and Yongsun instantly dug his kit out of his bag and handed it to the stranger. The stranger peeked through it for a moment, assessing what tools he had at his disposal.

Humming in thought, he turned his attention back to the towel, lifting it away from the cut to take a better look at it. With his other hand, the stranger dug his phone out of his pocket, navigating it to turn on the flashlight. Careful not to shine it in Hoseok’s eyes, he shone it on the cut, gently using his free hand to palpate the skin around it. Hoseok stayed as still as he could manage, watching the man inspect his eyebrow.

“Well, it’s bad, but not horrible. It doesn’t seem like anything is broken.” Hoseok let out a breath in tandem with Yongsun, who watched on worriedly. “But your friend is right, bandages probably wouldn’t work well. They’d probably fall off thirty seconds into the next round, and then you’re back to square one.”

The medical student continued digging through the first aid kit, humming in approval as he seemed to find something. “This’ll work, though!” He held up a small container of superglue, smiling reassuringly at Hoseok.

“I totally forgot that I had that in there. I was ready to give him stitches on the spot.” Yongsun joked, causing both Hoseok and the stranger to chuckle.

“You could do that, but it’d probably hurt like hell,” the stranger mused, pulling out an antiseptic wipe and tearing it open. “Then again, this won’t be the most pleasant either, especially since there’s hair here. But I won’t be repeatedly piercing your skin without any painkillers this way.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows shot up, albeit painfully. “No thank you, let’s go with the glue please.”

The stranger chuckled again, using the partially bloodied towel to wipe at Hoseok’s skin in an attempt to clean off some more of the sweat and blood. “Sorry if this hurts,” he muttered as he followed up with the wipe, sterilizing the area and causing Hoseok to wince in pain. “Tilt your head back, please.”

Hoseok followed his polite orders, the stranger preparing to apply the glue. “This is also probably going to hurt, sorry,” he apologized again before squeezing some of the glue out along the cut. Hoseok hissed at the stinging, although it was duller compared to the throbbing he’d felt as he’d been cut during the fight. He stared at the ceiling high above him, barely lit by the light from the few scattered lanterns brought by attendees. Although it was pitch black now, too dark and far away to make out any details, he was sure it was dingy and unkept. This building, like most that the fights were held in, had likely been abandoned for years at that point. It was left unloved, meant to rot and crumble away until the city tore it down to make space for something new. Hoseok pondered on the irony of its husk secretly being used for these fights, already being utilized for new, lively gatherings such as these. If it wasn’t empty and abandoned, they wouldn’t have been able to use it for this, to be able to fill it with some form of life again, and for that Hoseok was grateful. Not all that was abandoned had to be left as such.

“How’s your vision?” The stranger asked, interrupting Hoseok’s thoughts. His hand was warm as it held the cut closed to give the superglue time to set, his touch gentle, yet firm.

Hoseok looked up at him, his face blurry and distorted due to Hoseok’s left eye. “My right eye’s clear, but my left one is a little blurry.”

The stranger’s brows knitted together, leaning in to take a closer look. “Hmm, did some of the blood get in it?”

“I think so.”

Still holding Hoseok’s eyebrow together, the stranger leaned away out of Hoseok’s vision. When he reappeared, he was holding up the water bottle that had been set aside. “We should flush it out.”

Hoseok swallowed thickly, attempting to nod under the stranger’s hand. He wasn’t the biggest fan of having anything near his eyes, but he knew it’d probably help him. The stranger popped the top of the water bottle, looking down at Hoseok. “Try to keep your eye open, okay? I don’t have enough hands to do it for you.”

Widening his eyes as much as he could to try and be helpful, Hoseok averted his gaze to the side, not wanting to watch the water be poured onto his eye. Out of his periphery, he could make out the hazy shape of the bottle lingering above his eye, light glinting off the water as the stranger carefully poured it. The sensation of it was cooling yet bothersome, and Hoseok involuntarily blinked rapidly, his head trying to jerk away from the stream but stopped by the stranger’s hand keeping it mostly in place. Hoseok rolled his eyes around for a moment as he continued blinking, actively trying to get the water everywhere so this cursed process didn’t have to be repeated. The stranger tilted the bottle up to stop the stream, waiting for a moment before asking, “How’s your vision now? Did it help?”

Once Hoseok was able to slow down his blinks, he tried to focus on the stranger, glad to see that his face was no longer distorted. “Much better, thank you.” He smiled gratefully up at the stranger, who returned it for a moment before disappearing from his vision again to most likely set the bottle back down.

“That motherfucker,” Yongsun growled, suddenly pissed for seemingly no reason.

Hoseok tried to look at him, but the stranger’s hand carefully held his head in place.“What? What’s wrong?”

Yongsun abruptly appeared in Hoseok’s vision, on the opposite side of him as expected. He kept glancing away towards Jisung’s side of the circle. “I think he has something in his wraps,” he muttered, irritation written all over his face.

“What?” Hoseok and the stranger echoed in unison.

“There’s something catching the light in his wraps and he keeps moving it around.”

The stranger peered across the circle, still holding Hoseok's eyebrow together. Hoseok could only manage to watch as his eyes narrowed scrutinizingly at Hoseok’s opponent. “You’re right. Maybe that’s what cut Hoseok?”

Yongsun’s eyes flared with fury as the dots were connected. “You’re probably right!” Looking down at Hoseok, Yongsun grimaced as he scanned over the cut again. “If that’s the case, we’re lucky he didn’t catch you a couple of centimeters lower.”

Hoseok’s stomach flipped nauseatingly at the mental image of what could’ve been. The mixture of disgust and horror must’ve been clear, as Yongsun muttered a quiet “sorry, buddy” remorsefully. Finally, the stranger let go of Hoseok’s eyebrow, apparently satisfied with how the glue set. “There we go, you’re all good now. But I’d avoid getting hit there again or expressing too hard; you don’t want to rip it back open.” Again, Hoseok winced at the mental image as he reached up to touch at the wound lightly with his fingertips.

“Thank you, I really appreciate your help.”

The stranger smiled warmly at Hoseok once again, something that should’ve been comforting, but had an underlying feeling of discomfort. He didn’t even know this man’s name. Why was he being so kind and helping him? “It’s no problem. Good luck!”

With a wink, the man stepped back as Hoseok sat up, nodding and holding a thumbs up to the moderator when he sent a look questioning if Hoseok was good. As the moderator settled everyone down, Hoseok pushed up to his feet, sighing as he began regulating his breathing again. He glanced over his shoulder at the man and Yongsun, who both smiled at him, before turning back to Jisung and approaching the middle once more. “Ready?” The moderator asked, paying more attention to Hoseok’s response than Jisung’s. After both affirmed that they were ready, the moderator swung his hand a final time. “Fight!”

The pair fell back into circling each other, their steely focus not leaving one another. Jisung struck first this time, approaching swiftly and attempting to land a jab on Hoseok’s left eye, clearly hoping that Hoseok’s vision was still messed up. To Jisung’s disappointment, Hoseok dodged, completely evading the hit. After a pause, Jisung tried again, this time with a right hook. Again, Hoseok swerved out of the way, this time sneaking in a jab of his own that caught Jisung on the ribs.

Hoseok heard as Jisung grunted in frustration, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Jisung recentered himself and attempted to reassess his opponent on the fly. In the meantime, Hoseok swiped his leg, kicking Jisung square on the side of his calf just below his knee. Hoseok allowed his momentum to carry him forward in an uppercut that got Jisung on his stomach before darting back out of Jisung’s reach. Jisung tried to hit Hoseok with a kick to the ribs, but Hoseok blocked him before landing his own kick on the same part of Jisung’s calf. Jisung’s knee slightly gave way under the attack, but he quickly corrected it as Hoseok backed out of reach again.

Satisfied with what he’d accomplished so far and in no hurry to get into another skirmish, Hoseok went on the defensive. Jisung was clearly growing more frustrated, likely feeling something similar to what Hoseok had felt at the start of the second round. Perfect, thought Hoseok, ready to watch his opponent give in to heated emotions that would result in his own downfall. He observed as Jisung lunged yet again, eager to land something, but only managing to glance his fist off Hoseok’s shoulder. Hoseok went for the same calf again, hitting hard and successfully making Jisung’s knee buckle. As soon as he had his foot planted again, Hoseok threw a jab at Jisung’s cheek, which was met by a weak block. This allowed Hoseok’s frame to restabilize, giving him a chance to build back up the power he fed into his next right hook.

Although he expected this, too, to be met with the block, he’d managed to aim where Jisung’s arms were not and hit him square on the temple. Instantaneously, Jisung crumpled and collapsed on the ground, all energy that had been keeping him alert and fighting endlessly entirely gone. Hoseok reflexively jumped back, expecting for Jisung to take him down with him, but instead was met with Jisung out cold on the ground.

“Winner! Jung Hoseok!”

An eerie silence fell over the crowd as the moderator announced Hoseok the winner, the crowd stunned at the turn of events. Slowly, they began to pull out of the daze and a mixture of claps and cheers filled the warehouse. A few of Jisung’s fans came to gather around the knocked out fighter, helping him sit up as he regained consciousness, unaware he’d been knocked out and had lost.

Panting, Hoseok rolled his shoulders back to release some tension. He muttered his thanks to those congratulating him as he passed them, making his way past the small crowd to his side of the fight circle. Yongsun excitedly cheered him on as he approached.

“Hell yes, man, I knew you could do it!” Hoseok muttered his thanks, smiling at his mentor. Yongsun started talking a hundred kilometers a minute, too fast for Hoseok’s tired brain to keep up with. The adrenaline of the fight was beginning to wear away and the exhaustion was seeping in; aches were radiating from every part of his body. A hot shower and a solid 18-hour nap was everything he wanted in that moment.

Yongsun seemed to have gotten the hint that Hoseok couldn’t handle much more tonight, so he patted him on the shoulder gently. Hoseok tuned back into what Yongsun was saying to the best of his abilities. “...I’ll see you at the gym, alright?”

“Sure thing man, thanks again,” Hoseok bid farewell to Yongsun, watching as he walked out of the building. He proceeded to dig his bag out of the box, unwrapping his hands slowly to take pity on his sore muscles. Stashing them away, he pulled his jacket on, fumbling with the zipper in the dim lighting. Hoseok dug his final water bottle out of his bag and took a few greedy gulps, not realizing just how thirsty he was and nearly emptying the whole thing in one go.

“Hi again.”

Sputtering a little in surprise, Hoseok twisted around to face the voice. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand as he coughed forcibly. “Oh, it’s you again. Hi. Thanks again for earlier - if it wasn’t for your help, I probably would’ve lost.”

“It was nothing. I’m happy to help.” The stranger from before smiled warmly at him, holding out a towel. “Congratulations on winning.”

Hoseok warily eyed the towel, cautious of it and the man holding it. Granted, the other man had helped him during the break in the fight and did a damned good job at patching up the slice on his eyebrow. Hoseok took the towel and brought it up to his forehead to wipe at his sweat, movements cautious and calculated. “Thank you.” After a beat of silence, Hoseok’s eyes met the stranger’s, and he swallowed uncomfortably. The man was still smiling as though he appeared to be giving Hoseok an assessment. Finally he spoke, “I’m sorry, but...who are you?”

The stranger chuckled, seemingly unphased by Hoseok’s question or apparent unease. “Oh, just a fan. I’ve been to a few of your fights. You’re quite impressive.”

Immediately, Hoseok’s eyes widened. He had a fan? He didn’t know he’d had one already. He really must’ve improved a lot to have gained a fan, especially one who had seen multiple of his fights. A sense of pride washed over Hoseok at this revelation, finally feeling like his work had paid off.

“It’s not...unheard of...for some fighters to get...let’s go with ‘overzealous’ fans.”

The sense of pride morphed itself hideously into a sense of dread, slowly being choked down until it dissipated. Unintentionally, Hoseok shifted his weight back and began to lean just barely away from the other man. Out of the corner of his eye, movement caught his attention, and he watched as the last few stragglers from the fight began to leave, meaning he was stuck here alone with this “fan.”

“Some of them can go stalker-level.”

Red flags and sirens began to go off in his head, every possible bad scenario running through his mind at once. He couldn’t possibly fight now, after such an intense match. Perhaps he could use his bag as a weapon? Maybe the towel, or his water bottle? The man in front of him didn’t look like much of a fighter, but looks can surely be deceiving - hell, that was something he relied on with his own fighting when it came to opponents who were unaware of who he was. For all he knew, this man was some top-level trained fighter or some shit.

While Hoseok was generally quite good at masking his emotions, he was entirely unaware of just how perceptive the stranger was. The stranger caught every small signal of alarm the other man gave off - the wide eyes shifting from surprise to horror, glancing around to assess the encounter in its entirety as Hoseok moved just a hair away from him. The stranger internally reevaluated what he’d said, trying to understand what could set off such alarms in Hoseok. Following Hoseok’s gaze, the stranger looked around and noticed they were the last ones in the building. Oh, he thought, he must think I’m crazy or something.

Realizing the misinterpretation of his words, the stranger chuckled again, thoroughly amused. He reached his hand out to shake Hoseok’s. “I apologize, that must’ve come off wrong. My name is Kim Seokjin, you can call me Jin. I’d like to buy you dinner. Think of it as a celebration, plus you look hungry.”

Confused, Hoseok took Jin’s hand, the pair shaking them and bowing simultaneously. Although he still wasn’t entirely sure of the other man, he did seem to have no blatantly malicious intentions. Hoseok’s stomach also happened to growl right on cue - and food did sound pretty good. It’d probably be the best meal he’d had since leaving home. “Yeah, okay, I guess that sounds alright.”

-

“Here you go!” Jin exclaimed, setting a steaming container of ramen in front of Hoseok. He noticed that Hoseok’s brows furrowed as he looked down at the disposable container, his metal chair shifting on its uneven legs as he leaned in towards the warmth. “By the way, sorry it’s just convenience store ramen. We’re a little tight on money right now.”

Hoseok waved his hands in front of himself, slightly flustered at the idea of Jin thinking he was anything less than grateful for this meal. “No, this is great! Thank you!” Reaching for his chopsticks, he scooted closer to the table, ready to dig into his ramen. “So...‘we’?”

Jin’s wide eyes met Hoseok’s, a large mouthful of noodles half hanging out of his mouth. Hoseok snorted as Jin, clearly very hungry, hurriedly stuffed them into his mouth and chewed. “My brother. We live together in a condo nearby.” Hoseok quirked his eyebrows in interest, prodding at his noodles to gather them for easier picking up, as Jin took a sip of his beer. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Hoseok asked, chewing on a healthy bite of noodles.

“Do you and your family live around here?” Jin noted the slight frown Hoseok gave at the word family, twirling his ramen with his chopsticks.

“Uh, no. My family doesn’t live in this area.”

Jin’s head tilted, intrigued, leaning back in his chair to stretch out some. “So you travel to the fights? That’s a long way to walk.”

Hoseok kept his head down, staring deeply into the swirling broth of his noodles. “I’m staying with a friend nearby for the time being.”

Given the frown from the mention of his family, Jin could feel that it was a sensitive subject and decided there was no need to keep prying at it. He took another swig of his beer, setting it on the metal table gently to avoid causing it to lurch in a random direction. Sadly, this outdoor furniture seemed to be relatively neglected - perhaps one of the other available tables were more stable? “So, how long have you been fighting?”

Hoseok visibly perked up with the topic change, some of the tension in him seeming to melt away. “Almost a year!”

“Really? You fight like you’ve been doing it for far longer.”

“Well, I did start training before that. I think last May? It was a little bit after I graduated.”

Jin nodded, avidly listening as he made his way through his noodles. “So, why street fighting? Why not go the legal route?”

Hoseok drank the broth, wiping a drop off his lip with the back of his hand. “It’s a lot of money, which I don’t have.” Setting down his container, he shrugged, looking over at the street as a car passed by. “Plus, there are all these rules and regulations with it. Don’t get me wrong, some make sense - I mean, that’s why our fights still follow them. But there are a lot of unnecessary ones that just get in the way.”

Jin’s grin from earlier returned, as though something had just clicked for him. Taking in the empty ramen containers and mostly-empty beers, Jin cleared his throat before shifting so he was sitting more forward, closer to Hoseok. “Look...we’re almost done here, so I have something to ask of you.”

A pink flush spread over Hoseok’s cheeks, settling on the tips of his ears. He fiddled with the beer in his hands, toying with the tab in particular. “I have a feeling I know what this is about.”

Jin sat up, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. What?

Hoseok continued, flustered to the point of accidentally breaking the tab off the can of beer. “I’m sorry, but I won’t sleep with you.”

Jin’s eyebrows furrowed, his mouth dropping open in protest.

“Really, thank you for the dinner. It’s just...I’m not...It’s not that there’s anything wrong with you, I promise, I’m just...not-”

“I’m sorry, what? You think I bought you dinner to sleep with you?”

Hoseok flushed even deeper, avoiding Jin’s eyes. “I mean, that’s...kind of...what it seemed like?”

“That’s not what I’m doing!”

“Oh thank fucking god,” Hoseok muttered, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He dropped the tab inside the can and set it on the table, slumping in his chair.

“I- what’s that supposed to mean?!” It was Jin’s turn to flush, visibly ruffled by the idea of someone being relieved at not having to sleep with him. “You know what? Never mind. We’re revisiting that later.” He punctuated his claims by pointing at Hoseok, who seemed a tad amused by Jin’s agitation. “I actually do have a question for you, which isn’t that.”

Hoseok stifled a laugh, biting the inside of his lip. “Okay, what is it then?”

“My brother and I- we run a...sort of...business? And you seem like you’d be a great addition to it.”

Hoseok raised his eyebrows in surprise - a job offer wasn’t exactly what he was expecting to be at the end of this conversation. “Why? You barely know me.”

Jin sighed, running his hand back through his hair. “You seem like you can more than handle yourself. It’s not really the most conventional type of job, but it does have benefits. It’d be a little safer than street fighting, but there still won’t be any rules.” Jin furrowed his brow as he reassessed what he’d just said in his head. “Well, there are rules - but they’re our rules. But it definitely has far less rules than normal jobs.”

Hoseok narrowed his eyes skeptically. “I mean, it does sound pretty good, but it also sounds kind of sketchy. What line of work is it?”

Jin’s eyes danced over the air above Hoseok’s head noncommittally as he clearly calculated his phrasing before saying anything. “Nontraditional.” Jin snorted at the irony - although he and Namjoon aimed to run their sector in a far less harsher way than other leaders had, there was still a sense of tradition that came with the job, especially given how Namjoon had inherited it. It was nontraditional, but with some of the most traditional of origins. “Look, it’s not something I should really be explaining here. Can we talk somewhere more private?” Realization flashed in his eyes as he sat up rather excitedly. “I know! Come with me to the condo - my brother can help me explain it to you.”

Hoseok sighed, looking down the road again in the vague direction of his friend’s apartment. “Yeah, sure, why not?”

-

“Yah! Namjoon, we have a guest!” Jin yelled as he and Hoseok walked through the door. Hoseok looked around, slightly amazed at the quality of the condo. It wasn’t flashy or overly-nice; rather, it just felt so homey. There were bookshelves practically overflowing with books, and he spied a comfortable-looking couch that had a plethora of blankets and pillows around it. An abandoned laptop and some textbooks laid open amongst the blankets and pillows, clearly belonging to someone who had just been studying. College student? Hoseok wondered, taking in more and more of the cozy atmosphere. There’s no way a college student - or two - could afford somewhere this nice.

“Oh! Hello!” A deep voice disrupted Hoseok’s pondering, drawing his attention to a young man peeking his head out from behind one wall. He can’t be much older than me, Hoseok guessed as the man - or teenager - hurried out to greet Hoseok in the same respectful and pleasant manner that Jin had earlier. “I’m Namjoon.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Please take a seat. Sorry about the mess,” Namjoon mumbled as he fumbled to gather various textbooks and his laptop to make room for Hoseok. Jin had disappeared out of the room somewhere but reappeared moments later towing along a rolling desk chair. Quite awkwardly, Hoseok made his way to the couch, sitting rather gingerly on one side of it. “Would you like anything? I’m making tea right now, you’re welcome to have some,” Namjoon explained, tucking the books and laptop into a bookbag.

“Oh, sure. Thank you.” Hoseok continued to look around and take in the environment of the room as Jin plopped himself into the desk chair, accidentally making it roll back a little too far. In the background, Hoseok could hear Namjoon gathering dishes out of a cabinet, presumably for the tea. As Jin scooted up to correct the chair’s placement, Namjoon returned carrying a platter with a teapot, mugs, and what seemed to be sugar on the side. He set it down gently onto the coffee table before sitting on the opposite end of the couch. Hoseok watched as Namjoon poured the tea rather meticulously, handing out each mug as it was finished.

“So, who are you?” Namjoon asked Hoseok, settling back once everyone had been served.

“My name’s Hoseok,” Hoseok introduced himself, giving a timid yet bright smile to the other two men.

“He’s the fighter I told you about.” Jin remarked to Namjoon.

As Namjoon hummed and nodded in understanding, Hoseok sputtered. “You- You talked about me?”

Jin and Namjoon laughed in tandem. “Of course! I told you, you’re impressive.”

“I hear you’re quite the fighter. Jin-hyung wouldn’t shut up about you after the first time he saw you fight, he kept going on and on about how light on your feet you were and how it looked like you were dancing-”

“Namjoon. Shut up.”

Hoseok laughed, both amused by the pair’s antics and flattered at the description of his fighting. “I’m not that good yet. I’ve still got a lot of improvement to make.”

“Well, you don’t necessarily have to improve on your street fighting.” Jin mused, giving Hoseok a pointed look before turning to Namjoon to explain. “I offered for him to work with us.”

Hoseok turned to watch Namjoon’s reaction, who was nodding yet visibly setting his jaw and taking on a more steely look. “Did you tell him what we do?”

Jin shook his head. “No, I figured that’s something to discuss in private, which is why I brought him here.”

Namjoon sighed, relieved. “Oh thank god, I thought we were going to have an issue.” He turned to face Hoseok. “So, what’d he tell you about it so far?”

Hoseok glanced between the two unsuredly, taking a sip of his tea. “Well, he mentioned that it’s nontraditional and not the most conventional, but that it has its own benefits. He also mentioned that there aren’t really rules with it, but you have to follow your rules, so that was confusing.”

Namjoon looked at Jin completely deadpan. “That’s how you described it?”

Jin, affronted, scoffed at Namjoon. “How the hell else am I supposed to describe it without outright saying what it is?!”

Namjoon sighed and shook his head, turning back to Hoseok. “So, we work in my family’s business. Jin-hyung’s family started working with mine before we were born.”

“Wait,” Hosoek interjected, looking over at Jin. “You guys aren’t actually brothers?”

Namjoon sighed, shaking his head. “No.”

“We might as well be!” Jin protested, prompting a pointed look from Namjoon.

“Anyway, we have our hands in different businesses around the city and take care of the problems that come about,” Namjoon explained, pacing his words somewhat slowly to give Hoseok a chance to digest them. “Basically, we work for the mafia. Well, we are the mafia.”

Hoseok briefly froze before a loud cackle escaped him, a sound that racked through his whole body and seemed to echo through the otherwise quiet apartment. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” His laughter died down as he saw how neither Jin nor Namjoon were taking part in his amusement, waiting a few beats for one to reveal the surprise. “You’re...not joking?” The pair shook their heads earnestly at him. “But, how? You’re both like, my age!”

“Well, he is,” Jin pointed out while nodding his head in Namjoon’s direction. “I’m older than both of you.”

Shooting Jin a glare, Namjoon faced Hoseok again. “My parents were the ones who ran it in this area for a while. They left to go help start a new branch in America, and they passed it down to me.”

Hoseok gaped at Namjoon for a moment, trying to process this information. “So...you run it...and you’re like...19? They trust you that much?”

Nodding, Namjoon poured himself more tea. “It should’ve gone to my older brother, but he didn’t want to be involved.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to be involved?” Hoseok questioned Jin, brows knitted in confusion.

Jin choked on his tea when he realized Hoseok was addressing him with that question, coughing forcefully. “Not me! I’m still involved, clearly.”

“No, my older biological brother,” Namjoon clarified, chuckling to himself. “But my parents left us here to run things, and we need to build our group up more. It’d help a lot to have a good fighter join us.”

Hoseok bounced his knee, chewing on his lip from nerves. “And what if I say no?”

Namjoon quirked a single eyebrow at him, still wearing a serious expression. “Then we’d have to kill you.”

At first, Hoseok thought the threat was entirely real. Namjoon was selling it to be - he looked deadly serious, shockingly mature for his age. However, seconds later, Jin began giggling, which broke Namjoon’s facade and made him break into laughter as well. Hoseok simply blinked in shock, bouncing his gaze between the two.

“I’m mostly joking about that. But we would have to take some pretty serious measures.” Namjoon explained, crossing one knee over the other.

Hoseok resumed chewing at his lip, grasping the mug of tea between both hands now as he felt his grip weaken due to the clammy sweat gathering on his palms. Although these two seemed trustworthy, he couldn’t help but be nervous over the information he’d learned. They seemed like people he’d be great friends with, yet they joked so casually about serious matters and, more worrisome, they wanted him involved in those serious matters. “I...what would I be doing? If I join?”

Namjoon brightened at the question, apparently consoled by the genuine interest that Hoseok appeared to have in the work. “Well, we can see what you’re most drawn to. It’d be good to have a specialty, so we can try a few different things to see what you like. It would be nice to have someone handle the more hands-on, violent jobs this early on, but I wouldn’t want to force you into one of those positions.”

“Right now, Namjoon and I basically do everything ourselves. You’d be trained to do a variety of things, but one particular specialty is always good.” Jin explained, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

The way the two bounced this proposal off of each other was a touch unsettling to Hoseok - it both gave him the impression that they’d done this before, but also that they were very much in sync with each other. That added another layer of anxiety to Hoseok’s nerves. How was he, an outsider, supposed to join this pair, who clearly were linked on another level? How was he supposed to be able to contribute to that in a way that was anywhere near as fruitful as what they could already do? “Do I have to decide now?”

A chorus of some variants of “no!” came from both Namjoon and Jin, as well as some encouraging words that Hoseok couldn’t quite make out over the thoughts rushing in his mind. All of this information was just too much at once, and he couldn’t quiet the thoughts down long enough to be able to focus on what either of the other two men were saying. “I...think I’m interested? I’m not entirely sure, honestly. This is a lot of information to take in, and I don’t know if I’m thinking clearly enough to make this decision. It’s...it’s just a lot.”

Namjoon and Jin both appeared to understand at the same time that Hoseok was feeling a little overwhelmed, and they both toned down their enthusiasm, nodding rather solemnly. “Would you like to stay here tonight while you think it over?” Jin asked, eyes trained on the potential new recruit.

Hoseok looked into his tea, the mug now lukewarm in his hands. “Would that be alright?”

“Of course!” Namjoon affirmed, smiling warmly at Hoseok. “You can stay here for tonight, and we can talk in the morning if you feel up to it.”

Hoseok returned the smile, his screaming thoughts slightly quieting down. “Thank you, I would greatly appreciate that.”

“Speaking of bed,” Jin yawned, stretching in his chair. “I think it’s time for it. It’s nearly 2 AM.”

Between the fight and the mafia stuff, the excitement had kept Hoseok pretty wide awake. Once Jin mentioned the time, however, Hoseok felt the exhaustion start to wash over him and his yawn followed Jin’s.

Namjoon chuckled as he watched the other two express their tiredness, pushing up from the couch. “Not for me, I have studying to do, but you two should definitely get some sleep. Hoseok, if you want, I can show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

Hoseok nodded, following suit in getting up from the couch and bidding goodnight to Jin, who appeared to already be slinking off to his room to sleep. Going up the stairs, Hoseok followed Namjoon rather silently down a hall to a room on the right.

“Here you go.” Namjoon stepped aside to allow Hoseok to step into the room and look around. “The bathroom is right next door. Please feel free to take a shower, if you’d like - I’m sure it’d feel nice, if you fight as hard as Jin-hyung says you do.”

Hoseok grinned gratefully up at Namjoon, setting his bag down next to the bed. “Thank you so much, for everything.”

Namjoon returned the grin, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s really no problem. If you need anything, I’m at the other end of the hall. I’ll be up studying, so you’re welcome to come get me.”

Hoseok nodded, looking out the window at the empty street below before turning back to Namjoon. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you again. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Hoseok.”

-

After a long hot shower, Hoseok climbed into bed, his exhaustion having grown even more. He felt like he could melt into the bed, engulfed by the assortment of pillows and blankets, and the mattress itself - was that memory foam? Rather than melting into a fatigue-induced coma, Hoseok laid awake, staring at the shadows that danced along the ceiling from the lights on the street outside. His body craved sleep, but his mind was wide awake, back to racing with endless thoughts of his impending decision.

If someone was to approach him 8 hours ago and tell him that he would be offered a position in the mafia tonight, he would have laughed in their face. He didn’t even know there was a mafia in this area. And now, not only is there one, but they want him to join. How the fuck was he supposed to do that? What would people think about that?

Well, who was there to “think” about that? His family didn’t care anymore. For all they knew, he was dead on the streets. He wasn’t particularly close with anyone else. Sure, Hyoseob let him crash at his place, but they had entirely separate lives outside of that. And he had grown close to Yongsun, but mostly when it came to fighting - they never really hung out, and they definitely weren’t close enough to have Hoseok be staying with him. It wasn’t like he could tell anyone, anyways - he probably would be sworn to secrecy, forced to keep that part of his life entirely private.

But then again. Who was there to keep things private from?

It wasn’t the worst proposal that could’ve come his way. Hours ago, he wasn’t sure if there’d be hot water for his shower tonight. He had a place to sleep, yes, but it was a lumpy couch. And now, he’d had the most beautiful and serene hot shower and he was practically given this wondrous, stupefying, nothing less than a nest of soft bed, and comforting pillows and blankets that felt like he was being hugged by a cloud. In a matter of hours, the mafia had done nothing but give him a better life - even momentarily - and there was no doubt in his mind that the benefits would only continue. He’d have a stable source of these basic necessities, he’d likely be more than financially stable - it’d be thousands of times better than what he could manage on his own.

At the price of what? Killing people? Torturing them? Forcing people to pay debts that they owed? Living constantly in fear of being found out, considering probably 99% of the things they’d do would be illegal?

Could he do that? Could he handle that?

In theory, some parts didn’t sound too different from fighting. Hoseok loved fighting, he really did. He loved the rush behind all of it, the adrenaline that it brought. He loved calculating the other fighter’s every move, and doing everything he could to not only avoid getting hit, but to win. A sense of satisfaction came from winning, for sure, but a lot of his satisfaction in fighting had to do with how well he could do. How much he could avoid getting hit. How hard he could train and push his body to its limit.

How much he could push other fighters’ bodies to their limits.

How much damage he could do to them in the process of winning.

Blinking, Hoseok shook his head, trying to push out that thought. He didn’t really get some sort of enjoyment out of hurting them, did he?

On some level, yes. It usually happened more when the other fighters were complete dicks and needed to get the shit beat out of them. When they were assholes - when they said shit that shouldn’t be said, were cocky to the point of overrunning those around them due to their self-importance - they deserved to be hurt. And man, it felt great to be the one doing it. It tasted like justice.

Hoseok trained his eyes on one particular shadow, focusing on it so intently that it began to swirl and morph into different shapes and movements. This whole internal conversation felt so cliche - angel on one shoulder, devil on the other, the whole nine yards. The angel was going on and on about how the mafia can’t possibly be good, how they’re always shown to be doing horrible things in television and movies and clearly that’s a reflection of real life. It’d be more honorable to just make it on his own, even if he suffers along the way and it takes a while.

The devil, on the other hand, was tempting him with ramen, tea, hot showers, and this damn bed. The devil was telling him that mafia work would be like fighting as a job. He could live so much more comfortably, he could taste that justice constantly. After all, wouldn’t they be hurting people who did bad things? They’re the ones who deal with the mafia in the first place - and there’s got to be a reason they’re being targeted by them. They probably fucked them over, or didn’t stick to a deadline. They’d need to be taught a lesson, just like the assholes he fights.

And what about Jin and Namjoon? Sure, those material items the devil was tempting him with were from them - but those are also things they gave him from what seemed to be a genuine place. They really seemed like good guys, like guys he’d want to be friends with regardless of the circumstances. They’d shown him so much hospitality, even before they offered him a place in their world. They’d made him laugh, showed him more genuine care than anyone had bothered to in a long time. He felt more like family after only being here with them for a couple of hours than he’d ever felt with anyone else; even his real family didn’t match up. He had never felt truly cared for in his family, not in the way parents are supposed to protect their child. How did these men make up for that and more with some super glue, ramen, and a cup of tea? As much as it felt like the devil was what was tempting him to join them, the angel seemed to be giving in as well, drawn to their kindness and hospitality.

Joining the mafia didn’t have to be a bad thing. Of course, he’d know more after their talk in the morning, but he was almost certain it didn’t have to be a bad thing. If this night was any sort of an indicator, it wouldn’t be.

It’d be the best thing he’d done in a long time.

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