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THE JOURNEY BACK TO THE HOTEL WAS A QUIET ONE... Kwon and y/n walked side by side, exhaustion written in every line of their bodies. The events of the night—the beach, the ambush, and everything in between—clung to them like the sand embedded in their clothes and hair. The early morning sun was beginning to rise, casting a warm orange hue across the sleepy city, but neither of them paid it any mind.
As they reached the entrance of the hotel, the girl glanced at Kwon. His shirt was rumpled and stained, his hair disheveled, and traces of dirt and dried sweat clung to his skin. She was sure she didn't look any better.
"We look like we crawled out of a dumpster," she muttered, her voice dry.
Kwon glanced at her, smirking despite his weariness. "Speak for yourself. I always look good," he quipped, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness.
Y/n rolled her eyes but didn't bother replying. They entered the hotel lobby, the cool air conditioning washing over them like a relief from the chaos of the night. Fortunately, it was still early enough that the lobby was empty, sparing them the embarrassment of being seen in their current state.
As they stepped into the elevator, she broke the silence. "Let's just... get cleaned up and meet downstairs for breakfast," she said, avoiding his gaze.
Kwon nodded, leaning back against the elevator wall. "Yeah. Breakfast sounds good. I'm starving and craving... well, food."
When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, they parted ways without another word.
Back in her room, the y/h/c-haired girl headed straight for the bathroom, peeling off her sand- and sweat-covered clothes with a grimace. The shower was scalding hot, but she welcomed the sting—it felt like it was washing away the grit, the grime, and the weight of the past 24 hours.
As she scrubbed her skin clean, her mind wandered to the events of the night: the goons in the alley, Kwon's protective fury, the way he had hugged right after that fight. Her fingers lightly traced the bruised and tender skin on her cheek where the crowbar had grazed her. She winced at the touch.
After what felt like forever, she finally stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a towel and wiping the steam off the mirror. The faint, purplish bruise on her cheekbone stood out starkly against her y/s/c skin, and dried blood was still faintly visible along the edges of the cut.
"Great," she muttered to herself, sighing.
After drying off and changing into a pair of loose jeans and a soft hoodie, she rummaged through her bag and found a disposable face mask. It wasn't perfect, but it would cover the worst of the injury without the need of any makeup, and hopefully, no one would ask too many questions.
