HanGeng rolled out of bed that morning, feeling like Death itself had paid him a visit; a migraine pounded at his skull as he blinked sleep away from his tired eyes. The Chinese man stumbled out of his room, heading for the shower; the sooner he could take some pain meds and feel clean again the better. He stripped and the shower; he waited for the shower to heat up, gazing at the mirror as he did so. Bruises littered his tanned skin, shades of purple, blue, and even yellow painting his chest.

He had gotten into yet another fight; the dull ache in his ribs and the bruises proved it - another drunken bar fight with some patron that recognized him. HanGeng sighed, the steam from the shower had begun to fog up the mirror and he got in; the warm water making contact with his abused body made him hiss in pain and slight discomfort as it rained down on him. The Chinese man propped his forearm up under the shower head, leaning it against the wall; he rested his head on it, pillowing his throbbing skull. The water beat down over him, flowing down his back and drenching his head.

He lost himself in his thoughts, something he rarely allowed himself to do; the screams, the crash...it all came flooding back to him. His thoughts overtook him.  He could replay it in his mind, seeing the people next to him die on impact. HanGeng gasped and shook his head violently, attempting to rid himself of those memories.  He stepped back and set about his daily routine, attempting to block out his thoughts as he did so.

Once he was clean he turned off the stream of water, stepping out as he did so.  He grabbed the white towel that lay draped over the towel rod and wrapped it around his waist. Once the towel was firmly affixed to his body, HanGeng wiped the mirror clean with the palm of his hand. He was dissatisfied with the man gazing back at him in the mirror. There were bags under his eyes, rimmed with black; he looked like a raccoon.  He sighed, knowing full well why those were brought on. Countless nights spent drinking away his memories; the crippling insomnia that kept him awake those nights; that decision to be “responsible” which made him this way.  HanGeng closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and resumed his activities. He brushed his teeth and left the bathroom to get dressed.

He picked up a pair of boxers that lay draped over the dresser next to the bathroom as he walked past.  He dropped the towel and stepped into them silently, heading straight for the closet when he was done. Opening the dingy thing was unexciting, since he was only to be greeted with the sight of row upon row of black sweatshirts.  HanGeng grabbed one and walked back over to the bed. He fished out a clean gray wife-beater and tugged it on before putting on deodorant and pulling the sweatshirt over his head. A pair of ripped and tattered jeans lay on the floor of the room; he probably left them there as he stumbled to bed last night. He pulled them on and headed out the door.

The apartment was silent, as it usually was, and he walked through wordlessly. The Chinese man grabbed only what he needed - his wallet, book-bag, and the black mask he used to cover his face. As he approached the door, he put the mask on, covering the bottom half of his face.  Normal people would need the mask only when they were ill.  He, however, needed it for a different purpose. The man slung his book-bag over a muscled shoulder and pulled on his tattered converse. He walked out the door, slamming the object as he left. Silently, he walked the streets.  He didn’t live far from where he went to school, but he always seemed to run into trouble on his way.

For once, let me get there in peace.  For once, let me go unnoticed.

This silent prayer was left unanswered. As he walked, a burly man ran into him, knocking HanGeng’s bag to the ground and dislodging his mask. The man turned to him, eyes apologetic, but once his eyes met HanGeng’s visage, that look turned cold and hard; the man grabbed the foreigner by the collar and slammed him against the wall behind them.

“What the hell, man?!” HanGeng spat.

“You Chinese er. You’re him, aren’t you?!” The man yelled.

“So what if I am? What are you gonna do, hit me? Take your best shot, not like it hasn’t been done before,” HanGeng replied.

The man did exactly that, hitting HanGeng square in the jaw, the familiar taste of blood hitting his tongue as HanGeng reeled from the punch.  His training kicked in, muscle memory taking over his rational mind. HanGeng kicked the man in the gut, pushing him backwards. The man doubled over from the hit, but before he could recover, HanGeng was back on him. A swift uppercut to the jaw, a roundhouse to the ribs and lastly, a kick to the head.  The man that had attacked him lay unconscious at the Chinese man’s feet.  

HanGeng wordlessly picked up his bag and repositioned his mask so it covered his face once more.  He walked away from the man, pushing past other pedestrians. He arrived at the school early like he always did and headed in, shoving a few other students out of the way. All he wanted was to get to the classroom in peace. A few students yelled in protest at the rough treatment, but soon resumed milling about once they noticed that the Chinese man did not in fact give a damn.

Almost there.  C’mon.  Deep breaths, just a few more feet...damn I should have taken something for this hangover...

He sped up unconsciously as he saw the room just a few feet ahead.  The memories were returning, the hit to the jaw from earlier merely serving to make his headache worse. He reached for the door knob, breathing a sigh of relief as the cool metal touched his fingertips.  He turned the knob gently and opened the door. A very few were in Mr. Jung’s classroom this early, and it was rare for any of them to pick a fight with him.

He was finally at peace.

HanGeng walked over to his usual seat; the one at the very back by the window.  The man threw his bag down on the floor and settled into the seat silently. Few students ever talked to each other in this room, so it was mostly silent. HanGeng crossed his arms on the desk and laid his head down, his eyes sliding closed as he did so. His breathing evened out as he tried to calm himself down from the incident this morning.  

Mentally, he began to sing a lullaby in Mandarin, each verse sending a small pang to his heart as it had a dual effect on him.  The song reminded him of his mother, but also served to calm him. A small tap on his shoulder disturbed him.  Unconsciously, he growled threateningly, opening his eyes and looking upon the idiot that disturbed him. A small man stood in front of him nervously, biting his lip and looking terrified as he did so.

“Get lost kid, I’m not in the ing mood,” HanGeng growled.
           
The man bit down on his lip harder, drawing blood; tears wet his dark brown eyes.

“Seriously, beat it before I decide to beat you,” HanGeng said threateningly, punctuating his sentence with a rather intimidating glare.

The man nodded wordlessly and left him alone, just the way he liked it.  HanGeng closed his eyes once more, and took a deep breath.  Sleep, or what semblance of the action he could manage, didn’t come; only aggravation littered his thoughts. With an annoyed sigh, he sat up, settling for glaring at the inhabitants of the room.  A few shivered under his glare, the cold gaze of the Chinese man becoming unsettling to many of the inhabitants. The door to the room creaked open once more, and HanGeng’s eyes drifted in the direction of the sound.  Another nervous denizen walked in, eyeing him with disgust and malice as he, too, took his place in the classroom. HanGeng rolled his eyes and propped his left elbow up on the desk, resting his clothed cheek in it.  He gazed absentmindedly out the window.

I just want to get this over with.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N (Key-umma): SO! That’s Hannie.... surprisingly this didn’t take me that long to write and thanks to Unnie’s ing awesome-tastic review/editing skills TIS FINISHED! MUAHAHA--oops.....hehe....sorry.......-.- got a little carried away there...I’m used to cackling like a deranged maniac from my other story....note to self, learn to control deranged/psycho cackling better.....alrighty then. Hope you guys liked the chapter, poor Hannie’s got bruises.....T.T MAH BABEH! 3 hehe, I wonder if y’all can figure out who the...hold on...what the did I write.... *scrolls up* oh! Hehe oops, the “small man biting his lip nervously” is! GUESS! GUESS NOW!!!!! …...sorry, got carried away again...aish I need more sleep...and need to stop playing Dead Space right before I write things.....ANYWAY my tangents aside, hope y’all enjoyed the chapter. Much love to all of you, as usual subscribe if you like drop a comment if you love....WHY THE HELL AM I SO CORNY?! ….soyeah......love y’all.

~Key                                                

A/N (aegi-unnie): I seriously need to improve my creative writing skills.  I’m so stuck in people’s heads that I don’t bother to try and be all descriptive like Key-umma, here....She’s helping me out, though, so it’s all good!
Didn’t she do amazingly awesome???<33  Hannie makes me want to cry Y-Y Why’s he so depressed? Wonder if you can guess right...
Anywayyy, we’re not going to tell you who’s writing the next chapter.  You’ll have to figure that out yourselves :P  Have fun!
Don’t forget, comment and sub!<3 Love you all~~