Red Strings

Red Strings 4/?

"Tap—" Wonsik grunted as he threw the body down to the floor, spitting blood from his mouth onto the ground where more of it laid, "The—" A clear punch to the face, "Fuck—" He continuously pummeled his fists into the man's face, letting out a grunt as the opponents arms finally tried to reach out to grab him, trying to flip him, unsuccessfully that is. With a clear opening, his right fist collided with the man's once broken nose, making it twist in a weird way as the other let out a cry of pain. "Out!"

He stopped, heaving as he stared down at the bloodied and bruised man under him, knowing his own state was probably the same, just not as bad. He growled as spit of defiance landed on his face, the mixture of blood added to it made him look vicious in the eyes of the crowd. With one last straight punch, the other's limbs fell to his sides, the finality of a K.O. causing the rowdy audience to yell out cheers of Ravi.

"Alright man, alright." The 'referee' finally interfered. "He's out cold man."

Wonsik obediently got off the man, the adrenaline in his veins pumping so violently that the pain he was sure to feel later was non-existent. Unlike others, he stayed silent through the announcement of another victory, not seeing the reason to be so happy.

It was a fight to kill.

Of course Wonsik would never kill though. He was the one person to keep telling his opponent to either tap out or get knocked out while others would fight to the death... literally. He had seen too many good people— fighters— die because of miscalculations and one day it might be him. Therefore, he tried to show that he had a heart, sparing the other side with the hopes that if the tables did turn, they'd show him the same chance.

If not, he'd gladly tap out because he wasn't about to actually die for some money.

"Here you go, Ravi." The bulky man gave him his large stack of cash, patting him on the back. "We're doing crowd control so leave while you can... not that anyone would jump you for that cash though. That'd be suicide." Wonsik returned the smirk the man gave him, inwardly cringing at how much his split lip was starting to hurt.

"Alright, thanks man." He nodded, turning to take his leave.

Walking through the familiar route of the alley where illegal fights were held, he made his way to the closest store. Hearing the familiar chime of the bell, he grabbed a basket.

He gave a polite nod to the storekeeper who only shook her gray haired head, a frown of disapproval on her face. Sweet old women she was, sometimes sparing him some extra food and such when she could. She wasn't very fond of him at first, judging him to be yet another hoodlum that caused trouble until he had helped her carry in shipments without taking anything in return.

The lady never really asked him questions or reported him to the police which he was thankful for considering the fact that he always showed up to her store almost once a month in the same manner.

Like always, he bought the essentials he could find at the store; water bottles, toiletries, foods and snacks.

After getting his things rung up, he paid her with the cash he had gotten, making sure to spare a good portion of it.

He left the store with a sigh, kicking the rocks on the floor as he made his way home. He scoffed at the thought; home.

Kicking on the worn down door as his hands were too occupied by the plastic bags, he waited impatiently for at least a minute before his elbow slammed against it harshly.

Soon enough the door opened with a staggering man looking at him with droopy, red rimmed eyes. Bastard was fucking high.

"A-Ah! Wonsik-ah. What a sur—" The man let out a loud belch as he moved to the side to let the younger in. "S-Surprise! Never thought you'd visit your old man again since you've been gone for what? T-Two weeks now?"