Red Strings

Red Strings 6/?

"Fuck! I'm out, I'm out! Get this lunatic off me!" Wonsik got up as the man cried out in pain, wiping the blood off his lips with the back of his hand hastily. He raised a brow at the man who held his nose in a tight and nurturing grip, blood streaming down his hand from what was most likely a broken nose.

"If you're a beginner at fights like this, you should stay below the hundreds." Wonsik scoffed as his injury from the first fight of the night throbbed, barely feeling anything from the second. He was sure that his ribs would be decorated with a nice bruise by morning though, feeling a slight numbing throb. He walked to the sidelines where Joon, the ref, was standing, opening his palm up for the money.

A stack was placed in his palm, to which he smiled as it was heavier than the last.

"Hey man, do you think there any fights that I don't know... might pay a little better?" Wonsik asked him in a hushed whisper.

He raised a brow as he stared down at the bruised male, "Well, yes. There's always some meatheads out there looking to beat someone up. But dude, Ravi. I think you should just stay right here. I mean, you already asked me to put you in for the fives. You were in the threes just a week ago." Wonsik stayed silent as he stared at the man expectantly, waiting for him to continue. Joon eyed him up and down before sighing, running his hand against his bald head. "I mean I guess I can try to pull some strings. You sure though? I know these fights are easy money for you, five hundred per round. The guys in the sixes or sevens are savages man, I think it's best for you to stay down here."

"I think it's best if you just do what a client asks instead of offering unneeded advice." Wonsik retorted in irritation. "I'll build up to it man. For now, just put me in for a six tomorrow. Just one. If I can't handle it, I'll stay in the five hundreds."

"Alright." Joon agreed with a sigh, patting Wonsik on his back with a chuckle when he winced at the pain. "Get out of here while we're doing crowd control, yeah? Not trying to get an idiot whose greedy for money killed by one punch from you." He laughed as he walked off.

"Alright, thanks Joon!" Wonsik walked with a wave, shoving the money in his pocket as he took the usual route to the store. He walked with a purpose as his body didn't hurt as much as it usually did, the easy second fight the cause of it. The man he had fought with before hand had a capable right hook and definitely did some sort of training on the daily since he had gotten Wonsik right in the ribs.

He groaned as he pressed his fingers against his left side. Definitely will be bruised, he nodded as he saw the familiar store.

He smiled at the old lady as he walked in, to which she returned with a sigh and a shake of her head. He chuckled a little at her behavior, grabbing a basket as he filled it up with more things he figured they'd need around the house. As he stood in front of the counter, watching the lady scan his items, he pulled out the cash he had earned, counting through it quickly.

He successfully made one thousand that night and literally nothing could make his night foul, not even that drunken bastard he was surely going to see when he dropped by. He paid the lady with seven twenties, grinning like a Cheshire Cat as he grabbed all the bags and waved bade her goodnight.

Once he reached the worn out door, he repeated the same process of a gentle knock, waiting patiently— not really— before slamming his elbow into the door, somewhat surprised it didn't have a dent in it by now.

His mother opened the door with a smile that slowly dropped as she noticed it was him. He watched with careful eyes as her hand gripped on the door a little tighter, covering the entrance with her body as she put on a nervous and forced grin.