A/N: Been super motivated recently to write and it's been super awesome. Dedicated to cassiopeianELF & standardprotocol for upvoting, I'm glad that you enjoyed reading.

Onwards to the chapter.

Jeon Jungkook

I woke up around five hours later to the sound of labored breathing and the distinct smell of sweat. I opened my eyes and got an eyeful of Jimin holding a plank on the hardwood floor just meters away from me. Sweat dripped from his face as he narrowed his eyes in concentration. Cicily sat on the small of his back, holding a stop watch.

“Twenty more seconds,” she tells me, swinging her feet comfortably as if Jimin wasn't struggling to hold her up. I tried to push myself up into a sitting position, forgetting about the sling around my dominant arm and wince as I pull at the cut.

Cicily and Jimin look up from their drill.

“Did you re-open the cut?” Cicily asks, standing up and marking the time on her stopwatch. “Take ten.” She tells Jimin, who collapses immediately.

I shrug, moving to slip my arm out of the sling. She reaches for my arm, taking a seat beside me.

“How long has it been since you've seen each other?” Cicily asks casually, lifting my arm gently out of the sling. I turn to make eye contact with Jimin. The contempt from last night is gone, replaced with disinterest.

“Almost three years,” I think back to my debut date. Jimin nods in agreement.

Cicily places my hand in her lap, surprising me, closing her warm thighs around my fingers and realize it's because she's used to people pulling away from her. Warmth trailed up my arm slowly and I watched as her slender fingers smoothed over the bandage be peeling it back.

“Don't you have anything to say to each other?” Cicily asks quietly, reaching behind my head for the first aid box that is still open on the counter for fresh bandages to staunch a thin trail of fresh blood.

“I'm going to take me ten outside,” Jimin says. “Call me when you're ready to start training again, Cily-ah.” He says, standing up and walking out the front door.

Cicily doesn't look up to watch him go, instead she disinfects my cut and wraps it up again. “Try not to move, cuts at joints scar easily because people reopen them by just moving.” She tells me, letting go of my arm and gently replacing it in the sling.

“Thanks,” I say, but my eyes don't move from where Jimin walked out the door. Guilt gnawed at my stomach. I knew exactly why he was acidic towards me. Jimin was the kindest of my friends, never angry, always smiling. For him to be this angry at me, I didn't want to think about how the rest of my old friends hated me.

“Tell me about it,” Cicily says, pulling her legs up onto the couch. I raise an eyebrow. “About why Jimin is so angry at you.” I stared at her. I'd met her less than twenty-four hours ago and she wanted to know my life story. I faced forward, away from her

“I hardly think-” I start.

“I know, dumb ,” Cicily nods, humor crossing her voice. “But I'm your manager and no matter how difficult it is, you should tell me.”

My eyes returned to her, glancing up and down her once. This tiny girl had saved my life in the ring, stopped from doing something that I knew I would regret for the rest of my life, and somehow reunited me with one of my oldest friends.

“Jimin and I used to fight together, with five other of our friends,” I start. “They saved my life one night, from a mugger and then took me under their wing. It didn't begin as anything, just a couple of teenagers taking boxing lessons, training for school events, we even made a local newspaper headline once. But they were my closest friends, I grew up with them. They taught me everything I know.”

“How do you end up as an amateur boxer, with all the fans and success?” She asks plainly.

“I guess a scout came to one of my fights, I was offered sponsorship. The rest of my hyungs were so proud of me, pushing me to take the opportunity.” I say, lowering my eyes, “and I think that was the last time I talked to them.”

Cicily nods in understanding.

“And it wasn't because I felt better than them, it wasn't because I didn't want to speak to them ever again. I only really started winning, gaining popularity last year. For two years I struggled. I didn't want to call them and tell them that I still wasn't-” I cut off.

Cicily and I are silent, mulling over my words.

“Well, I believe in a secret for a secret,” Cicily says and I turn to her, curious. “I'm twenty-one.”

Jungkook's eyebrows raise at my confession as he opens his mouth to say something but I hold up a hand and cut him off.

“One more thing,” she says, reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out her smart phone. “As your manager, I thought that it's probably best you see this for yourself.” She unlocked her phone and hands it to me.

It's a new article from one of dirtiest tabloids out there. The headlines read “big shot boxer Jeon Jungkook can't handle the heat from the underground”. Underneath is a picture of me, sprawled out and bleeding in the ring, my arm braced in front of me to deflect another punch from my opponent.

I swallow, humiliation and anger welling up inside me.

“Will and I tried to staunch this, but the picture was posted on a forum and no matter how many times we take it down, it gets posted again and circulated. This article was also taken down, but not before it trended on Twitter. Sorry, kid.” Cicily tells me, as I scroll down to read the article, my stomach twisting. Everything that I had worked for, was it all coming to an end?

“Don't read it,” Cicily says, taking the phone out of my hand. “It's just a bunch of malicious reporters who have nothing better to do, they don't understand anything about the underground fight scene and they think they can write about it.” She stands up, shoving her phone back into her pocket.

“Will and I are dealing with it, all you have to worry about right now is getting better. Tell me, how do you like your eggs?”

Park Cicily

I knew exactly what he needed, and after talking to Jimin about it, later that day I loaded both of them into my car and started off towards the less wealthy part of Seoul. Towards their gym. I glanced at the rear view mirror as Jungkook's sleeping figure, he was still trying to regain health after the fight.

“Don't worry,” Jimin said from beside me, catching my eyes. “I'm the angriest of his hyungs, the rest will be ecstatic to see him, especially after hearing about what happened to him.” He tells me and I try to relax.

“What was he like, when he fought with you guys?” I ask, thinking back to all that Dexter had told me about Jungkook.

“He's cocky, and stuck up, and won't hesitate to try and get into your pants. Fame has gotten to his head, but he's good at what he does and when it comes down to it, he's a hard worker.”

“Jungkook? He was this tiny little boy when he found him cornered by two guys twice his size. He was shaking but he refused to cry or show any other sign of fear. When we took him in, his parents didn't want their son to be anything like us, but Jungkook followed us around like a lost puppy. We taught him everything, we watched him grow up. We were so proud when he was offered that sponsorship.” Jimin sighs. “But he never called, never returned to visit. We watched him grow in success on TV. He just left us like that, after everything that we'd been through together. When I first met Jungkook, he was barely at my shoulders. Now he's so ing tall.”

I laugh at Jimin's annoyance.

“Are you sure the rest of your family will be pleased to see him? I don't want to be intruding like this if it's just going to create fissures between you all.” I ask, still worried.

Jimin turns around to look at Jungkook. “I don't know about Yoongi-hyung, but the rest of them will definitely be.” He sighs, returning his gaze to me, “we're only really angry because he left us.”

We fall silent and I mull over his words. Jungkook was volatile, and even though he didn't show it, he was still reeling from his loss underground. If Jungkook needed anything right now, it was friends, not a manager he barely knew.

“Turn here,” Jimin speaks up and I do so. Their gym really didn't look like anything special. It was just a run down building with a one door entrance next to a coin laundry and a ramen store that looked older than me. But I could tell from the way Jimin's eyes lit up, it was a place that held a wide importance. I park my