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𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙉𝘿 𝙊𝙉𝙀 : 𝙁𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙂𝙄𝘼𝙉𝙏
"WITH A SWIFT RIGHT HOOK TO HIS JAW, will Jeon be able to get up, or will this be the first time that Jeon "The Giant" Jungkook loses a match?!" The announcers loud, booming voice rang in Jungkook's ears distantly, adding to the throbbing pain in his head as he tried to force himself back up into his feet.
He knew he was supposed to be in pain, in extreme and terrible pain that would warrent a very much needed trip to the nearest ER, but he felt nothing. It was all distant, the adrenaline and shock keeping it away for now. All he could focus on was the blinding lights and his bloodied competitor standing across from him as they circle the ring.
Jungkook scowled, spitting out the blood that had gathered in his mouth before pushing himself back up onto his bare feet. He refused to lose. It wasn't an option for him. Jungkook must win. That light of hope and fight still flickered in his hard heart and heavy soul.
And if he lost regardless, he wouldn't go down without putting up a fair fight.
Jungkook glared at his competitor through the thick strands of wet, jet black hair, slicked from his perspiration and dripping with his sweat. Blood trickled from his nose, smearing over his lips and down his chin before finally dripping and landing on the canvas of the ring.
The sound of the crowd cheering, yelling at him to win this fight spurred him on, keeping that light in his soul going until the very end.
Jungkook let the man come at him, keeping him at a distance just waiting for an opening at his blonde head. It was a risky move, but his last hope of getting a K.O. before the match came to an end.
He moved to the right, ready to take his swing, that final, fatal blow to the head, guaranteeing his victory.
But Jimin, his most challenging opponent, saw this coming. Jungkook was too injured, far slower than he had been at the beginning of their fight. Jimin was smaller, lighter on his feet and able to duck out of the way leaving him in a position just close enough for a match-ending uppercut.
So he took it.
Jungkook shot up in bed. Frantic and on alert as his eyes eagerly searched through the darkness for some perceived, imagined threat. His chest expanded and collapsed with labored breaths and a cold sweat formed on his brow line. His fingers clutched the cotton sheets of his bed, slowly loosening his grip as he came to realize that he was home, in his bed, completely fine.
He was just having another memory of his failure.
It's been 2 months already. His concussion had fully healed a while ago and his physician had cleared him to begin training. Yet, every night, the same memory haunted his dreams. It was a constant and consistent reminder of his worst match yet. It was comparable to torture.
