chapter 2.

Signing up was the easiest part despite the dubious look the guy gave him, Chanyeol had a hard time locating the damn place though. It was tucked under a bridge downtown, the door submerged  under graffiti and posters but despite it’s poor condition, the door was strong and secure. Inside was no different; it was dirty and held the pungent smell of body sweat. The shouts of a match taking place was muted through thick concrete walls which was adorned with even more graffiti, it lacked the brightness from outside due to the absence of windows, the dim lighting from the hanging lamp didn’t leave much for the eye to see. As Chanyeol kept walking down the hall, he came across a man sat behind a beaten up desk watching something intently on a tiny television screen. Despite being six foot tall, the guy hadn’t noticed Chanyeol enter, his eyes were glued to whatever was playing. Chanyeol cleared his throat quietly, nervously.

Angry, critical eyes were upon him without warning. The man had sheer black hair swept up in a clunk of gel, sweeping this way and that, after he gave Chanyeol a displeased once over, he turned noncommittally back to the screen.

“What do you want?” He spat, as if it was a crime to be in front of him.

Chanyeol’s long fingers pick at the thin hem of his baseball jersey. “Well I’ve come to sign up.”

The guy gave him another once over silently, for the space of two minutes, before a harsh scoff spat from his lips and booming laughter followed. Chanyeol, awkwardly twiddling his thumbs, waited for him to finish. “Oh hell, wait... you’re serious?!” He rasped in a high tone.

Chanyeol nodded sharply in reply which caused more raucous laughter, chanyeol began to feel more and more frustrated with this guy. Who did he think he was, laughing at him? For all he knew, Chanyeol could tear him apart!

“Are you done?”

Wiping tears from his eyes, the guy slid a piece of paper and a pen in front of him on the desk.

“Fill this out,” he said between chuckles.

Chanyeol gave him a glare before leaning down to fill out the shabby form. Once finished, he slid it back to the guy who was still chuckling quietly. He gave it a once over before slipping it away somewhere and turning back to the television.

“See you in two weeks, kid.”

Kid. Kid?! Chanyeol sent him another resentful glare, hoping it would penetrate his glassy look at the TV and maybe knock him off his chair.

☄

Chanyeol spent the following weeks vigorously working out, building up muscles and working on stamina. He knew that even after two weeks of working hard he still may not be strong enough, but he was certainly stronger than before and that was something. He was getting more and more excited as the days went by. He had no idea who his opponent would be. It could be anyone. He was probably going to get hurt, but he wasn’t bothered about that. Wounds heal. He had to do this. Chanyeol didn’t have much else, this was his only chance.

When the day finally rolled around, to say Chanyeol was a nervous wreck was an understatement. He had smoked all of his cigarettes in one morning. He couldn’t sit still all day. His fingernails become considerably shorter and he filled his day with menial and mind-numbing tasks to kill time. He got more and more jittery as time went on. He can’t ever remember a time when he felt like this. He spotted a pile of coursework sitting innocently in the corner of his room. Guilt seeped into him. He was so far behind, he was pretty sure he was going to get kicked off the course at some point. But, this fight tonight was to help him. Put a bit of money on his pocket so he could focus on all that coursework.

Saturday night, eight o’clock and Chanyeol was pumped.

Underneath his trusted jersey, he wore a plain white vest and baggy shorts. He figured he didn’t need much else in the way of clothes and his beaten up trainers would have to do. Finding the Exo Pit was much easier the second time around. Chanyeol couldn’t resist having one last smoke before he went in.

“Got a light?”

Chanyeol nearly jumped ten feet in the air at the soft sound of a voice next to him.

Blonde-silver hair, carefully cut and styled backwards shone under the yellow of the streetlights. It wasn’t his natural colour judging by his black, preened eyebrows. A straight hung from smiling lips. Chanyeol nodded away, and reached into his pocket, pulling out his favourite lighter which was decorated with ganja leaves. The guy smirked as he handed it to him and lit his cigarette.

The sirens that sounded in the distance may as well have been silent. All Chanyeol could hear was the beating of his own heart. His hand might’ve been shaking as he reached for the between his lips.

“Coming to watch the match?” Blondie asked, staring out into the distance.

Chanyeol wondered if he should lie or not. “No. Actually, I’m a contender.”

Blondie suddenly erupted into laughter. Was this going to happen every time? Why couldn’t people take him seriously? Suddenly, he stopped laughing to study him carefully.

“You’re serious?”

Chanyeol was done with this guy and his obnoxious laughter. Angrily stubbing out his he glared at Blondie, roughly pushing past him and stomped inside.

The same dark haired guy was sitting behind the desk, watching the TV yet again. Although, thanks to the way Chanyeol slammed the door behind him, he noticed him now.

“Oh, you’re back. Didn’t think you’d make it.” He rose from his chair and walked around his desk. Wow, he was actually quite short. He glanced at Chanyeol before moving towards a metal gate like door. Once he unlocked it he continued walking so Chanyeol guessed he should follow. A broken light flickered over head and the roar of the crowd grew louder and louder. He was lead down some stairs and around corners until they finally reached, what looked to be a locker room, although it was a poor excuse for one. There were only one or two people in here, and none payed any attention to Chanyeol. He wondered if it worse that they didn’t.

“You ever done this before?” Shortie asked, sliding his hands into his leather jacket. Chanyeol shrugged off his jacket and slung it on a beaten bench.

“Nope.”

“Wow,” was the laughed reply. “You’re on in ten, kid.”

Chanyeol nodded, still pissed that this guy insisted on calling him a kid. He began to do some warm up exercises whilst Shortie walked further into the locker room, towards another door.

“Oh yeah, I’m Baekhyun.”

☄

Walking out into the ring and having the whole crowd boo you just because you were a newcomer was not the most inspiring experience. Chanyeol took it in stride though because he was going to show them. He was going to show them all. He noticed there was no referee, although there was a beefy looking guy stood to the side of the ring. Other than that, there was his opponent and an announcer stood in the ring. Chanyeol was already panting from the sheer atmosphere and electricity of being stood in the ring, among the boos and jeers.

The announcer shouted at the crowd making them boo more but he grinned as he did so. As he spoke about the other guy, they burst into cheers.

“He’s made it this far! Can this newcomer stop him?”

This guy was built like a house though. Muscles compact and close to bursting, what he lacked in height he made up for in power. Bald and sweating like a pig already. His eyes were aflame with challenge so Chanyeol raised his fists ready.

Here goes nothing.

He moved on instinct, practising only what he had seen in various movies and the like. Chanyeol got punched a lot and ended up on the floor for most of the match. His knuckles hurt, his head was throbbing painfully, he thought he was dead at one point. But when he saw his opponent stagger ever so slightly, Chanyeol took his chance. He attacked him relentlessly, pushing him down, breaking him down, throwing every ounce of power he had at him.

He didn’t make it under the onslaught.

After a deadly right hook, his body fell to the floor with a deafening thud.

One...

It didn’t look like he was going to get up anytime soon.

Two...

He stared listlessly into space, breathing heavy, blood pouring past his lips.

Three...

Chanyeol was in a worst state, swaying with the effort to keep standing.

Had he won?

Four...

The guy wasn’t moving.

Five...

The crowd were screaming at him to get back up.

Six...

Chanyeol looked at them for a moment, their faces filled with rage that their favourite had been beaten,

Seven...

by his hands.

Eight...

He was going to be $200 better off — $200 richer.

Nine...

He’s strong. Chanyeol has strength that he didn’t even know about.

Ten.

He’s won.

His wrist was held high in the air and there was an almighty roar.

The newcomer had defeated the champion.

Chanyeol grinned through bloody and broken teeth. His heart was soaring with adrenaline and victory, he might’ve been on fire.

☄

Somewhat clean and wounds kind of seen too, Chanyeol zipped up his baseball jersey and walked out of the locker room, the sum of two hundred dollars firmly in his pockets. An arm slid across his shoulders and he turned to see Blondie hanging off his shoulders.

“That was actually ing remarkable!” Chanyeol smirked but said nothing. It was remarkable, wasn't it. “Here, you’ve deserved it.” Blondie held out a cigarette to him and Chanyeol leant down just a little so he could place is between his bruised lips. Then, he lit it with Chanyeol’s favourite ganja lighter at which he raised an eyebrow at. Blondie only smirked, sliding the lighter back into Chanyeol's jersey pocket.

He inhaled the drug, feeling it spread into his veins. The emotion he felt was incredible, like he was calm amongst chaos. Like he was invincible.

“Thanks, man.” Blondie smiled sweetly as left the Exo Pit and walked down old, dirty, forgotten streets. “Hey, what’s your name anyway?”

Blondie eyed him for a bit, smiling, like he didn’t want to tell, as if it should remain a secret. “Sehun.”

☄

Chanyeol didn’t sleep for three days after. He couldn't take his mind off the fight or the face the fact that he actually won. He had been receiving a few texts and calls asking about his whereabouts but he ignored them all. Nothing else mattered then. No-one else mattered then. Although, he did have to leave a few times to buy more cigarettes. He did, however, make sure to put his winnings in his bank.

He couldn’t wait until the next fight.

oh, btw, some of you may not know, but a 'straight' is another word for cigarette here in England.