boxer - woosan

The Match Pt.2

They were breathless by the time they reached their destination, hands on their knees to compose themselves. There they were, backstage of the boxing rink. The muffled sound of the overly excited cheers spilled onto backstage, making San's heart pace. "I'm scared, Young-ah."

On the other hand, Wooyoung's lip curled in disgust. An unpleasant smell lingered in the air and the staff backstage looked barely alive. Everything felt off. "You'll do fine, San. Just remember everything I taught you." The inner corners of Wooyoung's eyebrows raised in concern. "San, are you sure you attended the right match? I don't feel right."

"What do you mean?"

"Everything stinks! Not only that, everyone here looks unwell, possibly even mistreated." A flash of sorrow fell upon his eye as he glanced at San.

"It's always like this. No biggie."

Wooyoung's gaze darkened at the other's words. "The fuck?" All he could do was sigh at the moment. There was no turning back. He already grew a tight bond with San and quitting because one rink had ill workers would be terribly ridiculous. "Never mind." A whistle was blown. "We have to get out there now, it's game time."

"Alright," he heavily exhaled. 

And with that, they swung the door open to enter the ring. The atmosphere was cold so goosebumps were quick to decorate San's skin as he was only wearing a tank top and a pair of sweatpants. San wanted to make a comment but his anxiety seemed to swallow him whole. Why was he so nervous? Is it because he actually cared for the person that was going to watch him?

A shiver glided up his back and to his shoulders as they made their way towards their corner. 

"San-ah," Wooyoung said as he applied pressure on the other's shoulders. "Sit."

And that's when San's vision suddenly fell blurry. His knees buckled, nearly losing his balance. His breath hitched and his jaw was tight. A lump started forming in his throat making it almost impossible to even let out a single breath. Lips started quivering and his legs felt fragile. Like taking a step will make his body shatter to bits.

Wooyoung was quick to notice and swiftly provided assistance by putting a straw to his lips. "You can do this, San. Just close your eyes and try to catch your breath." He put his hand on the unwell's back in a consoling manner. "And when your ready, drink some water to calm yourself." His gaze on San was solacing. He knew that things were different. Wooyoung knew San cared for him. "Hey, San-ah. It's okay. It's the same every time...just maybe different coaches every week."

A shaky breath passed through his lips as he nodded. "Yeah, okay." He pulled the straw into his mouth. "Kinda dramatic, huh?" San questioned. He let out a chuckle, a subtle but rich sound that echoed with embarrassment.

"Mmm," he took a moment to think whether he should be tell the truth. The lines on his forehead spoke of the intricate mental pathways he navigated. "Yeah."

San's smirk was a sly curve. His attractive smirk was a blend of confidence and charm, a magnetic pull that hinted at a concealed playfulness beneath his suave exterior.

Another whistle was blown. The match will start now. 

Another breath through his rough lips. Okay. I got this. It's like everyday, San. Just breathe. You're better than him. He slipped his way through the rope spacers and his intimidating look was a chilling masterpiece, a piercing gaze. As his eyes laid upon his opponent, his eyebrows furrowed. "Well you look quite familiar," San mumbled under his breath.

"Choi San, are you ready?" The referee boomed with enthusiasm.

He nodded his head, his eyes on the ref. 

"Park Seonghwa, are you ready?"

The other male nodded sternly.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung was in shock, jaw was dripping towards the concrete floor. Park Seonghwa? The one that was working in cafe? The one I found ho-

Before his thoughts could escalate, the whistle strung him back to reality. The men circled each other with retaining their fighting stance. 

Sure, San's resting face might catch you off guard as it may appear like he has something against you, but the gaze he obtained today was rather terrifying. Like he held an unexplained grudge against Seonghwa. Saying his stare was intimidating was a vivid understatement. His eyes were sharper than glass shards, lips were as straight as a ruler. Some members of the audience might've already melted with fear.

The opponent threw the first punch to the face, swiftly blocked off by San's wrapped boxing gloves. Then a kick full of force and speed, flew towards San's torso. He was unable to shift away from the speed of the kick, making some parts of the crowd roar with enthusiasm while some spat out boos with hatred.

Now, it was San's turn to make a move. An uppercut landed at the other's jaw, making spit fly out of his mouth. Now the empathetic piece of the crowd blew out some "ooo's" or some "oh's".

A prideful curve in San's lips let his focus travel somewhere else, giving Seonghwa the advantage to punch him in the mouth. The expression on his face was nothing more than staggered, the punch reminding him to shift his mind back to the game. And that's when the familiar salty taste stained his teeth scarlet. 

The prideful grin on his face was now gone, making him only see red. He let another punch towards the stomach, hoping it would leave an unforgettable mark there. He might've failed. A sloppy punch back at the jaw, making the other's head fly back.

Seonghwa, on the other hand, let his talent do its own thing. It's like his limbs have its own mind. A defenseless punch collided right into the nose, making San collapse right over.

"Shit." Wooyoung let a mumble loose in distress. "C'mon get up, big boy."

A little budge. Unfortunately for San, Seonghwa's eyes didn't shine with mercy. An opponent could never feel empathy. Finishing the round, Seonghwa had a rocketing punch straight into the face. Knockout. 

The round was over and after a little bit of nudging from the referee, San was finally able to get up. 

San came stumbling towards the chair that sat right in the corner of the ring. Wooyoung hung over the rope spacers, having a messy attempt of getting water in the other's mouth, staining his shirt.

"I can't do this, Woo."

"Are you kidding me? The match isn't even over yet. The fuck are you trying to say." Wooyoung sighed in disapproval. "Listen. Your opponent is stronger than you, but you're better. You have the agility, quickness, and technique. He doesn't-" a whistle was blown to signal that a new round was starting. "Now get back out there and use what you know, go go go!" He shooed away his student, creating groans from him.

Seonghwa was ready. Too ready. And it kind of scared San. But he had to recollect Wooyoung's words. Technique and quickness.

Seonghwa was the first to make a move, a clean punch right into the gut.  

While the punch seemed fast for everyone, it wasn't for San. An easy shuffle back caused his opponent to punch nothing but air. 

San took another step back. Then another, and another, until he had a decent distance between him and his opponent. It's now or never. But if I mess up, I'll embarrass myself and be a burden to Wooyoung. And then, with a soft exhale, a sigh escaped their lips—a gentle release. "It's worth a shot." He mumbled lightly.

Heavy steps yet fast steps pounded onto the floor. With a sudden burst of energy, he planted his feet firmly on the ground, each muscle coiled like a spring ready to unleash its force. In a graceful whirlwind of motion, they began to pivot, spinning on the ball of one foot, while the other leg lifted effortlessly into the air. A elegant, yet fatal tornado kick in the air, made everyone just pause in awe. The flawless kick knocked the other at his cheekbone, making him quickly lose his balance.

Nothing moved. The referee came rushing over to the unconscious body. "1, 2 3!"

Knockout.