Chapter Text
A shoddy bulb flickered above him as he made his way down the hallway into the mainstage. It wasn’t really a stage; it was just what everyone called the warehouse they fought in every week. Walking in, it was impossible to miss the sweaty aroma that filled the room. It reeked of testosterone and adrenaline, a scent Yeojun had become used to over the years. In fact, it smelled like home now.
Every week without fail, this place was packed full of men from across the city, all ready to fight whoever was willing to step up to the plate. Those who weren’t stood on the sidelines, placing their bets and egging on the ones brave enough to put their fists up. Yeojun was never one of those men. Each week, he came to fight, and fight he did.
Seungho met him at their usual spot near the makeshift ring. Inside, two regulars were going at it with each other, with the crowd hollering and drinking as they observed the spectacle, spilling beer all over the concrete floor. Yeojun sits himself on the crate just behind the crowd and holds his hands out toward his friend. Wordlessly, Seungho starts wrapping his hands in boxing gauze.
They had a system. That system has been working for years at this point. There was no need to waste words; they knew what to do and when to do it.
Yeojun’s eyes scan across the mainstage, seeing if his guy was here already. He probably was; Minwook wasn’t one to run late. Probably the only good thing he could think of about the guy. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find him in the crowd of drunk men surrounding him, but he did see one of his lackeys, which made him grimace.
Kenshin was a kid that Minwook picked up off the streets of who knows where. But he wasn’t just a kid. He was a slimy, conniving child who Yeojun could only assume never had a good intention in his life. He lied, cheated, stole; anything to pad his pockets and get a good laugh. Seeing him now, Yeojun had to hold back an eyeroll.
He was chatting to an older gentleman, probably in his late 40s. It wasn’t hard for him to spot his hands twitching to see if the man would notice him reaching for the wallet that was poking out of his pants’ pocket. When the man didn’t react, Kenshin seemed to crack some sort of joke that made every guy in his proximity burst into laughter. Using the distraction, the kid playfully slaps the man’s shoulder as his other hand moves to snatch the wallet from his pants. He snags it without any trouble, then excuses himself, moving on to the next group of men he could rob blind.
When Yeojun finally looks away, Seungho is already wrapping tape around his knuckles to secure the gauze. He padded his hands extra well, knowing Yeojun bled easily. The padding didn’t matter much to Yeojun, though. No matter what, nothing cushioned his hands enough for him not to feel the deep ache of knuckles meeting solid bone. The gauze was just to soak up the inevitable bloodshed, not to prevent it.
Seungho briefly glanced over Yeojun’s shoulder before looking back down to rip the tape, finishing up the first wrap.
“Your guy is here.” He said simply, causing Yeojun to slowly release a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Yeojun wiggled his fingers until the gauze sat comfortably on his skin, then held out his other hand for Seungho to do the same wrap again.
“Of course he is.” He replied as he watched Seungho work. His hands were already covered in countless scabs and bruises that hadn’t healed from the last time he was here. Usually, Sungmin would scold him for fighting again before he was healed, but he wasn’t here tonight. He was at the ER for a broken finger after a skateboard trick gone wrong, which was the reason Yeojun was later than usual tonight. He’d been with him at the hospital for the past few hours, but Sungmin insisted he go tonight to let off some steam before he got taken to have his finger set and put in a splint. Clearly, he didn’t know about all the bruises that still littered Yeojun’s body. If he had, he would have broken Yeojun’s whole hand just to force him to stay back with him.
Seungho scoffs after taking another glance at Minwook before focusing on Yeojun’s hands again. Casually, he comments, “He looks pissed off.”
“Good. Maybe then he’ll land a punch that actually hurts.” Yeojun replied, his voice as unamused as his eyes. He hated talking about Minwook despite his entire life here revolving around him. It was inevitable, yet he couldn’t stand that man’s name passing through his teeth.
When his other hand was fully wrapped, he slipped off the crate and wandered over to the ring where Jingxiang stood. He nudges the guy with his shoulder to get his attention. When the taller man’s eyes land on him, all he does is nod. Jingxiang nods back, then grabs a bottle of water from a box on the ground.
“I’ll go get him for you.” The older says, then stalks off into the crowd. Seungho crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the bell pillar, temporarily taking over match-calling duty. Yet another part of their weekly routine.
Yeojun watches the match currently happening with halfhearted enthusiasm. These two guys were new and full of youthful vigor. If he had to guess, the one currently winning couldn’t have been more than seventeen years old, but his fight style was far beyond his years. His grapples were flawless, and his kicks were incredible. The only thing that Yeojun could identify as a place of improvement was his punches. They weren’t polished like his kicks were. They were haphazard and desperate, the kind of thing you’d expect from someone so young.
“Who’s that?” Yeojun leans over to ask.
Seungho’s lips resist the urge to smile before he answers. “Seo Kyoungbae. Former kickboxing prodigy and nepo baby before his parents disowned him for stealing a couple thousand from his dad to help a mysterious ‘friend’ out of debt. Fights here to put food on the table now.”
“You really did your research, huh?” Yeojun scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes drift back to the match. He watches as Kyoungbae wrestles his opponent to the ground with a demented smile spreading across his face. The kid clearly had passion. If only he could do that in a more professional setting than this place, he could probably make it big. Too bad he’d fallen from his graces and ended up in this shithole like the rest of them.
“It’s my job.” Seugnho replied simply as he reached for the bell mallet. He was sure the kid’s opponent would be knocked out within the next few seconds based on how it was going. Kyoungbae had him in a sleeper hold, and the poor guy's face was growing redder than a ripe tomato.
Seungho’s prediction was right. Within the 20 seconds following him picking up the mallet, the guy passed out cold on the poorly padded ring mat. The bell rings, and the crowd roars. Some people heckle the poor unconscious man, while others either cheer or shriek angrily, depending on the bets they made. Yeojun remains silent on the sidelines, eyeing the crowd for Jingxiang and Minwook.
It takes longer than he expects to spot them in the crush of screaming people around him, but when he does, his eyes narrow on his opponent.
Minwook and him had a long history here at the mainstage. They were notorious for only coming here to fight each other. No matter how much others pressed for them to fight others, even when instigated into fights, they’d never do it. If someone else tried to make them fight, they’d just walk away or punch them hard enough to keep them from asking again. They were there for each other and each other alone.
Despite seeing this man every week for years, it never got easier to stomach the sight of him. Yeojun often wondered if coming here did more harm than good, considering that just looking at Minwook made even his bones shake in hatred. It didn’t take long for him to settle that the feeling of standing above him after bashing his face in was a worthwhile trade-off for needing to see his stupid face beforehand. That feeling was an irreplaceable one. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.
The ring clears out, and people begin making new bets. It didn’t take long for people to piece together which match was next, seeing Yeojun and Minwook on either side of the ring. The warehouse buzzed with chatter. This was the main event for many patrons of the fight club. No matter how many times it was repeated, it never got old. People fed off the energy these two fighting created. It drew in bigger and bigger crowds as the years went on, and as a result, drew the most cash flow. The club runners loved Minwook and Yeojun and did everything they could to take care of them lest they lose their cashcows. It made Yeojun’s skin crawl knowing most of the people here were only nice to him because he was part of their profit margin, but he showed up every week regardless.
Once Jingxiang returned to his post by the bell, Yeojun and Seungho slid into the ring. The quietly rumbling crowd immediately broke into deafening cheers that the two in the ring ignored. Their cheers meant nothing. The only thing that mattered was getting this match over with so he could breathe again.
Minwook enters with Kenshin at his heels at the opposite side of the ring. They eye each other up, making note of the injuries lining the other’s body, mapping a line of attack. Yeojun’s eyes are immediately attracted to the slightly exposed hip under Minwook’s black wifebeater. It was painfully bruised, still as purple as it was when he’d given him it. Then, his eyes move to the bruises on his shoulder from when he landed on it last week. It was more healed than the one on his hip, but was still various shades of yellow and green. He’d try to focus on those areas this time around to hopefully keep him down a little easier.
Yeojun crouches in one of the corners of the ring, stretching his ankles to get them loose enough for tussling. He didn’t want to sprain his ankle again. That made for a very painful loss a year ago that he’d rather not repeat. Minwook doesn’t stretch, just eyes him with an empty look on his face as Kenshin whispers what he could only assume were encouraging words in his ears.
Once he confirms with Jingxiang that he’s ready, the starting bell rings and the match begins.
Minwook circles, and Yeojun follows suit. The first punch is thrown within a few seconds, opening up the floodgates. A few land on Yeojun’s shoulders and midsection, but he just backs up, adjusts, and goes back in with his own until he can find a way to manage the upper hand.
It didn’t take long for the first bloodshed to occur, and of course, it was coming from Yeojun. His nose was leaking like a faucet, dying his blue t-shirt a disgusting shade of brown as the blood soaked into the fabric. He didn’t bother wiping it away; there was no time to worry about a little blood on his face. He just licked it away when it dripped down his lips, otherwise ignoring it as he wrestled Minwook to the ground.
Minwook was no weak man. He was hard to beat, which made their weekly spars that much more challenging. He didn’t play fair; he played to win. Nothing was illegal on the mainstage as long as you didn’t kill anyone, so Minwook did not hesitate to bite, nor to use low blows to his advantage. As Yeojun’s arms wrapped around the older man’s neck, a pair of teeth wrap around Yeojun’s wrist, biting down as hard as they could. His arms retreat hastily, pushing Minwook flat on his face in the process.
Yeojun briefly inspects the damage before reeling a foot back and kicking Minwook between his legs. He could play unfairly, too. He had no qualms about hurting this man to the fullest extent. A smile appears on his face as he hears the pained groans of the crowd’s empathy, the smile growing wider seeing Minwook writhe on the ground in pain.
“What’s wrong, Minwook hyung?” He taunts, landing another strong kick on his bruised hip. Minwook doesn’t reply, just clutches his southern pearls for dear life as Yeojun continues his offensive attack.
He leans down, grabbing Minwook by the hair to drag him to his knees. Once he was up, Yeojun took to slapping his face back and forth in his hands. His favorite thing to do was toy with the man. His bloodied smile widens seeing Minwook sway back and forth with each hit. Once he was bored with slapping, he raised a foot and drove it into his chest, sending the older man flying backward into the corner of the ring.
People booed, seeing that he had the upper hand. Yeojun knew they were seeing their money flash before their eyes and weren’t happy about it. He couldn’t bring himself to care; they should have been smart enough to bet on him. If they were dumb enough to bet on Minwook, then he had no reason to be affected by their heckling.
He saunters over casually to the man lying limp on the ground and grabs him by the hair once more. Minwook doesn’t fight, which was suspicious, so he adjusts his stance so he’s standing with the older man’s torso between his legs. That way, it’d be much harder to land a surprise hit of any kind. Once sure he was mostly out of harm's way, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the shell of Minwook’s ear. There, he whispers, “It’s not like you were using those anyway. Don’t be so mad.”
He chuckles hearing Minwook grunt in response, beginning to struggle under his hold.
Yeojun backs off, now comfortable with the pace he set. He watches as Minwook struggles to his knees, then raises his foot to kick again.
But, before it could land, his shoe was caught midair, and he was sent flying onto his back. He lands with a hard thud on the mat, and the crowd erupts once more. He didn’t have time to process the punch delivered to his stomach before a flurry of fists began assaulting him in rapid succession. Minwook was a fast fighter, preferring to overwhelm Yeojun with rapid-fire hits instead of Yeojun’s slow, torturous method. It was hard to fight off. It was most comparable to a swarm of wasps attacking. When you try to swat one away, ten more have already stung you.
Uselessly, Yeojun tries his best to fight off at least some of the attacks, but it is no use. He is forced to roll out of the ring momentarily just to collect himself enough to continue fighting. His entire torso was red and sore from the assault, but the adrenaline was enough to keep him upright. He knew once it wore off, he’d probably not be able to stand for at least a couple of hours, though.
Minwook raises an eyebrow at him from inside the ring, looking half amused by his exit. Yeojun ignored him as he walked around the circumference of the ring, reentering on the side furthest from his opponent.
“Scared?” Minwook asked when he stood back up. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes before charging forward, spearing the older man down to the mat and letting a storm of fists rain down on his face. Another crowd pop booms through the mainstage for Yeojun to ignore as he relentlessly punches and claws at his opponent's face. Minwook tries his best to defend himself, but when his lip and nose start to bleed, Kenshin is forced to step into the ring, begging for Jingxiang to end the match here.
The ringmaster appears to consider it, especially seeing how quickly Yeojun’s hands were being dyed red. Instead of doing it immediately, he sends Seungho in to check on Minwook’s state and to temporarily drag Yeojun off him, much to Yeojun’s displeasure. After a brief once-over of the damage and a “you want to finish?”, Seungho confirms he’s good enough to keep going, and the match continues to Kenshin’s dismay.
The temporary pause gave Minwook some space to get a few more hits in, but the damage was already done. With a sneaky sweep of the leg, Minwook was done, and Yeojun’s hand was being raised in victory. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at Minwook’s bloodied face.
He left the ring with the sound of both praise and resentments echoing in his ears, and blood staining his hands and face. He didn’t pay any mind to either of those things, only to getting to Jingxiang to get a water bottle.
Yeojun was the man of the hour, but only that hour. The crowd would move on as more matches took place, rendering his only a fleeting moment in the hectic atmosphere of the mainstage. Glory didn’t last long in a place like this. It wasn’t something he minded. He didn’t do this for attention, and he only half did it for money. His main goal was fulfilled, and that was seeing Minwook down and out.
Once he’d downed an entire water bottle in one sip, Seungho took him to the ‘infirmary’. It was far from what any place providing medical care should be. It was as dingy as the rest of the place and had no room for privacy. Scattered around the infirmary, fighters were getting checked out, and more were making a fuss about injuries they signed up to get. Yeojun couldn’t help but roll his eyes hearing one of the men cuss like a sailor getting his ankle wrapped in an ace bandage. He’d always been one to take pain on the chin and walk it off. He didn’t like it when people who couldn’t take pain signed up for fights. He couldn’t bring himself to understand what they got out of it when they cried like babies after a little sprain or bruise.
Seungho sat him down on a creaky metal chair before he began examining him from head to toe. Feet and ankles were good, knees were good, abdomen had the most damage, but most of it was surface level and would be ok once the bruises repaired themselves. Then, he carefully unwrapped Yeojun’s hands. The tape went hard after being soaked in blood, causing a crackling sound when Seungho unwound it. He couldn’t help but feel a little proud seeing just how coated in red his hands were, though it did make him wonder how Minwook was still breathing at all.
“You went too far tonight, hyung.” Seungho mutters as he grabs some cotton pads and rubbing alcohol from a nearby supply cart. Yeojun huffed, deflating into his chair as the sting of alcohol seeped into his cut-up hands. He knew he went too far, he just didn’t care. Minwook deserved him going too far. He was the one usually playing dirty like he did tonight. All he did was give him a taste of his own medicine.
“Whatever.” He replied blandly as he watched Seungho carefully work on his injuries. He wondered when they’d wheel Minwook in here. He clearly needed it, and they even had some actual medical workers in the infirmary tonight. It would be convenient to get him patched up here, even if Yeojun wished he’d go bleed out in a ditch somewhere.
“It’s not whatever. I know you hate him, but look at all this blood.” Seungho complained, gesturing to his hands and shirt. Yeojun gave himself an unenthused once over, then sighed, conceding.
“Fine, yeah, I’m sorry.” He forced out, sounding as insincere as he meant for it to. Seungho just shakes his head and refocuses on getting Yeojun cleaned up and ready to go home.
A few minutes pass before Minwook enters the infirmary with a noticeable limp and an ice pack being held to his lip. Yeojun rolls his eyes when he notices that the new kid— Kyoungbae, was it?— supporting Minwook as he walks to an empty bed.
To Minwook’s credit, he was the only one not fussing over him. While Kenshin whined by his side about his state and Kyoungbae hovered at his other side, looking like a lost puppy trying to get him where he needed to be, Minwook just went with the current. He didn’t make a peep to complain, just sat down and let himself be examined by one of the regulars who volunteered his EMT skills to the mainstage.
Yeojun averted his eyes back to Seungho, who was rebandaging his hands. Once those were done, he moved on to Yeojun’s split lip and bloody nose.
It doesn’t take very long for them to make it out of the infirmary and back to the mainstage. Seungho leads Yeojun through the crowd to the ‘box office’ where Gunwook had his feet reclined on the betting table, eyes trained on the current match like a hawk. Seungho knocked on the table to catch his attention, which seemed to startle him only slightly.
“Ah, here to pick up your winnings?” Gunwooks asked in greeting. Yeojun nods with a small smile on his face at seeing Gunwook trying his best not to show his nerves. He thought it was cute how, no matter how long Yeojun had been here, Gunwook was still anxious around him. Typically, he was confident, the kind of person who made others nervous with his brazenness. When he was around Yeojun, however, it was a different story.
He had a crush; it was obvious. Yeojun didn’t mind. Gunwook was cute, totally his type in every way. Unfortunately, Yeojun knew he would make a terrible partner. He was reckless and lived a life not suited for being tied down. Gunwook knew that and respected that. However, feelings don’t just evaporate once you get rejected. So, despite knowing they couldn’t be anything, Gunwook still swooned at the sight of him, and Yeojun still found it endearing.
Gunwook hands over a ziplock bag full of wads of cash, which Yeojun takes and immediately starts counting.
“How much is it supposed to be again, Gunwook?” He asked, his eyes trained on the cash shuffling in his hands instead of the man sitting in front of him.
Gunwook takes a few seconds to respond, but eventually says, “Is it not 570,500 won?”
Again, he doesn’t look at him when he responds, just keeps counting. “Yes, I’m just making sure you know that too. That’s a record, isn’t it?”
Gunwook blushes and nods. “Yes! Congrats, Yeo. You’re probably the highest-paid guy here tonight.”
At that, Yeojun chuckles. “Yeah? I finally beat Minwook?”
Gunwook nods again happily, which makes Yeojun’s smile widen. He’d beat Minwook in two ways that night. With all the money counted, he tied it back up and slipped the wads into Seungho’s backpack.
“Thank you, Gunwook. I’ll see you soon, yeah?” He asks with a raised brow.
“Of course you will. You can’t go too long without seeing me. You might start going through withdrawals.” Yeojun playfully rolls his eyes at his sudden confidence and begins walking away.
“We’ll see about that~” He says, waving goodbye.