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Chapter Text

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.” Wolf says, and the White Mamba doesn’t respond at all. 

Wolf’s not sure why. The White Mamba’s friends are lying on the ground, bleeding and badly beaten up, and Wolf’s sure most people would respond to that, in some way, shape, or form. 

The White Mamba won’t even look him in the eye.

“The fuck?” Wolf says. “You scared now ? Don’t you think it’s a little late to come to your senses now ? You were all tough a couple of days ago; what happened?” 

The White Mamba is shivering in fear, and it pisses Wolf off.

“Hey.” Wolf slaps the White Mamba across the face. The White Mamba doesn’t react or respond.

“Oh, come on .” Wolf grabs White Mamba by the chin, tilting his face up so the White Mamba will look at him. “Look at me man, come on. Use those snake eyes of yours.” 

The White Mamba didn’t seem to see him. 

“God, this loser.” Wolf drops the White Mamba’s chin. “He’s already fucking lost it. Jeez man, if you act like this, it’s just no fun at all.” He punctuates the end of his sentence by elbowing the White Mamba in the face. Again, the White Mamba didn’t react. 

Wolf kicks the White Mamba in the stomach, sending him flying across the rooftop. No reaction. He just lays there, unmoving.

“Now that I think about it, you’re pissing me off.” Wolf slips his glasses off his nose. “Did you always get away with it like this? By just trembling in fear with that pretty face of yours? Is that what you’re trying to do?” No response. “Well, I don’t fall for that shit. In fact, I despise bastards who do that. Jared, hold my glasses.”

Jared takes the glasses with a smarmy smile. 

“By the looks of it, I don’t think anyone’s ever taught you a proper fucking lesson.” Wolf smiles. “I’ll fucking teach you then.”

Wolf kicks the White Mamba. “How,” Wolf kicks the White Mamba, “dare you,” Wolf kicks him again, “fucking,” and again, “try me.” and again. 

“Huh? Well?”

Wolf keeps kicking, over and over again, and the White Mamba doesn’t respond. 

“How dare you?” Wolf says again, and keeps kicking over and over again.

He picks the White Mamba up by the collar, and punches him. Over and over again, until blood flies from the White Mamba’s pale face. It lands on Wolf’s mouth, and out of some instinct, Wolf sticks his tongue out and licks his lips.

Wolf keeps punching, over and over again. One punch is particularly strong, and the White Mamba is sent flying backwards into a stack of chairs. No reaction.

“Hey.” Wolf crouches in front of the White Mamba. “What do you think? Have you learned your lesson yet?” The White Mamba doesn’t respond. “Why are you so out of it already? I’m just getting started.” 

Wolf stands, and kicks the White Mamba again. Over and over again. The White Mamba won’t respond. 

Wolf grabs the White Mamba by the hair, and slaps his face. “Hey. Hello? Hi? White Mamba? Wake up, Eunjang’s White Mamba!” No response. Wolf drops the White Mamba on the floor. 

He turns towards Hwangmo, and motions at the White Mamba with his thumb. “Fucker’s totally drenched in blood. You sure he’s the White Mamba? Pass me a ciggy.”

Hwangmo nods and passes him a lighted cigarette. Wolf puts it to his lips.

“Ugh, this is boring as fuck.” Wolf inhales the nicotine smoke, and blows it out. “C’mon, wake up. Don’t make me throw you off the rooftop.” Wolf is content right now, smoking a quality cigarette and just having beat someone up. It’s nice for him, the feeling of blood on his hands and the sensation of smoke in his lungs. 

Someone’s leaning against his back, their arms wrapped around Wolf, their chin on his shoulder. They’re murmuring something into Wolf’s ear, hooking their hands under Wolf’s sleeves. 

“What the hell?” Wolf says, and then the someone places their knee on Wolf’s back, and yanks his sleeves behind him. They slam Wolf’s face into the ground. Wolf loses his cigarette. 

Wolf manages to twist his face back, and what the hell, it’s the White Mamba. Fucker has some bite in him after all. “You son of a-huh?” 

The fucker is actually tying his arms behind his back. The White Mamba grabs Wolf by the hair, pulling his head up from the ground so that his chin is perpendicular with the ground.

“You fucking bastard.” Wolf says, angry. So fucking angry.

The White Mamba slams Wolf’s face into the ground. 

As his head is pulled up from the ground, his body weighed down by the White Mamba sitting on it, Wolf manages to cough out a threat, his throat full of blood and smoke, but the White Mamba doesn’t seem to hear it. He slams Wolf’s head into the ground again. 

Hwangmo tries to stop the White Mamba, but he throws something at Hwangmo and hits his nose dead on. Hwangmo backs off, and Jared is too much of a coward to do anything.

The White Mamba kicks Wolf. He stomps on Wolf’s head, pressing Wolf’s face and nose and mouth into the floor. Then something decidedly not organic is slammed into Wolf’s head, once, twice, and Wolf finally manages to get himself upright.

“Argh, fuck! You crazy bastard!” Wolf kicks the White Mamba in the stomach, and the White Mamba goes flying into a stack of chairs. But the fucker gets up, wobbling on his feet as he approaches, dragging a chair behind him. The screeching noise it makes hurts Wolf’s ears.

Wolf kicks at the White Mamba, but the fucker’s anticipated it, and he swings the chair at the one leg Wolf’s standing on. Wolf is unable to regain his balance, his arms still tied in knots around him, and so he goes crashing to the floor. The White Mamba kicks him once, and Wolf uses the push from the kick to give himself a little distance from the White Mamba, and a little time, enough to get back on his feet. 

Wolf spits out a mixture of saliva and blood, and rams into the White Mamba, slamming into him, pushing him to the ground. 

Wolf needs a way to get out of this hold. Eyes darting around the rooftop, searching for something that’ll help him out, he sees an exposed nail sticking out of a post in the ground. He purposefully catches his shirt on it, and with an almost physically painful ripping noise, Wolf’s shirt tears, and his arm is free.

He pulls his other arm out of the sleeve trapping it. “Now I see what kinda fucked-up bastard you are. Gotta say, it was fun, but it’s getting on my nerves.”

The White Mamba’s wobbling to his feet again, dragging another chair with him. He swings the chair back, telegraphing his intent to strike Wolf with it. 

Wolf grabs it, stops it in its arc towards him. “That’s enough.” Wolf pulls the chair out of the White Mamba’s grip, and tosses it towards the ground behind him. He uses the momentum from that to swing his other arm forward in an uppercut that connects with the White Mamba’s head with a mighty crack. While the White Mamba is reeling from the hit, Wolf kicks him and that marvelous kick connects with the White Mamba’s stomach, doubling him over and sending him staggering backwards.

Wolf grabs the White Mamba by the neck, and holds him there as he punches. He doesn’t try to cut off the White Mamba’s airflow; that’s not the kind of fighter he is. The sole purpose of grasping the White Mamba’s ivory throat is to keep him in one place as Wolf hits him. 

Wolf manages to slip in a few words between punches. “How dare you, play your dirty, little tricks on me!” Wolf rarely tires of this stage of the fight, because he likes inflicting pain on others and receiving it in turn. Usually, he gives more pain than he takes, and he figures that’ll be the case in this fight, because he’s intelligent enough to recognize a pattern. 

After a while, the White Mamba slips from his grasp, not intentionally, and falls to the floor, his head in his slender hands. Bruises mar his snow-white skin, and blood stains his Eunjang High uniform. Wolf doesn’t feel bad for him, mostly because Wolf doesn’t feel bad for anyone he fights.

“Get up.” Wolf says, and pulls the White Mamba up by the back of his shirt. “I know exactly what kind of bastard you are.” Wolf slams his knee into the White Mamba’s face, and the White Mamba goes flying back once more. There’s a thick cloud of dust, rising from the force of the White Mamba’s impact, and Wolf can’t see the White Mamba, but figures he’s out cold. Pity, because Wolf was having a lot of fun.

But then, suddenly, before Wolf can react, the skinny bastard lunges forward and slams a pot, or trash can, or something vaguely cylindrical into Wolf’s foot. And it fucking hurts . Somehow more than getting whacked in the leg by a chair with chrome legs.

In the quick, small, short second that Wolf is distracted by pain and shock, the White Mamba rears the pot-thing back, and hits Wolf full force in the head. Wolf falls again, and this time the White Mamba hits him as he falls. 

Wolf’s not sure he’ll be able to get back up after his head bangs against the ground, and once the White Mamba straddles him and starts punching him over and over again, Wolf knows for sure that he won’t. 

Shit, maybe if the White Mamba was a girl, he’d be into it. The pressure on Wolf is nice, and the White Mamba’s pretty enough. 

The White Mamba speaks, punching all the while. “Thought I, told you, that I don’t like, rooftops. Told you. Told you.” He keeps repeating that, reminding Wolf that he has and had told him, punching Wolf on every syllable, as Wolf’s head grows lighter and lighter. 

Wolf feels like he’s going to pass out, just as someone breaks down the rooftop’s steel door.

It’s fucking Ben Park from Eunjang, and apparently he knows the White Mamba and the two assholes who Wolf assumes are the White Mamba’s friends. He says something to the White Mamba that Wolf doesn’t hear; Wolf’s head is in too much pain to give Wolf access to all five senses. 

Hwangmo makes a feeble attempt to stop him, and Ben Park hits him square in the face. Hwangmo falls to the ground, and Wolf knows he’s playing dead. Hwangmo’s a strong fighter, being Ganghak’s number two, but he and Wolf both know he couldn’t beat Ben Park in a fight, no matter how many odds were stacked against Ben, so Wolf won’t hold it against him. Plus he’s the closest thing to a friend that Wolf’s got.

Ben scoops the White Mamba off of Wolf, and grimaces when he sees Wolf’s face. Wolf doesn’t care about Ben Park’s pity, mostly because he’s too out of it to really concentrate much. Ben Park walks over to the two Eunjang assholes, carrying the White Mamba, and makes sure they’re okay, unimpeded by any of Wolf’s goons. Where the fuck was Jared?

Ben Park sees that they’re doing better than the White Mamba was, and they say something to him, gesturing to the White Mamba. Ben’s face contorts into surprise, and he turns and runs out of the room, taking the White Mamba with him. 

The two Eunjang assholes pick themselves up, get their stuff, and exit the rooftop, followed by the three Eunjang cowards that held them down while Wolf punched them. They look back at Wolf and Hwangmo on the floor and wince.

The person that Wolf stationed to guard the door to the rooftop is out cold; he’s not as hardy as Hwangmo. 

After a while, Hwangmo sits up and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pockets. He brings a cigarette to his mouth and lights it, the smoke wafting up into the gloomy Seoul sky. 

“Hey, Hwangmo. Pass me a ciggy.” Wolf says, and stays laying on the ground, looking up into the smoke and the sky overhead.
Hwangmo takes another cigarette out of the pack and lights it, passing it to Wolf, who puts it to his mouth and takes a deep, guttering breath. They stay like that for a while, breathing in the smoke.

“What was that kid’s name?” Wolf asks.

“Who? The White Mamba?” Hwangmo replies.

“Yeah. What’s his real name?”

Chapter Text

Wolf is bored. 

When Wolf is bored, he usually does one of three things. He fights, or he smokes, or he celebrates. When he had first begun being bored, he very quickly ran through those three options, because he knew they would alleviate the boredom. He fought Jared Sun, beating that two-faced bastard to within an inch of his life. When that hadn’t worked, he went to the convenience store and bought a pack of cigarettes, finishing it within the day. When that hadn’t worked, he’d skimmed a little off the top of the recreation funds and gone drinking with Hwangmo, Hayden Ma, and a couple of girls Hwangmo knows, supposedly to celebrate beating the shit out of Jared Sun. 

Nothing is working, and so now Wolf is laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what could pull him out of this stupor. When had he started feeling this way?
Well, that was an easy question. He had slipped into this soul-crushing boredom two days after he had fought Gray Yeon. That was usual, because usually Wolf rode the high of a fight for only a couple of days after the fight itself. Then the question was why hadn’t the ‘fight’ with Jared Sun given him that high?

Maybe because all Jared did was cower? Maybe now that Wolf had fought an opponent that had done their very best to beat the shit out of Wolf (and succeeded), he wasn’t satisfied with the usual fare of cowards and fools. Yeah, that seemed right.

Then there was only one thing to do. Wolf would seek out Jimmy Bae and initiate a fight with him. Jimmy wouldn’t just stand there and take the punches, but Wolf wasn’t in any danger of losing. It’s a pretty good solution, Wolf thinks.

Wolf reaches for the cellphone on his nightstand, and dials Hwangmo’s number. It only rings twice before Hwangmo picks up.

“Yea?” Hwangmo’s voice says. “What is it?”

“Hey, Hwangmo. Where does Jimmy Bae usually hang out?”

Wolf can hear the surprise in Hwangmo’s voice. “Dunno, I’ll ask Jack Kang.”

“Get it to me by tomorrow.” Wolf says, and hangs up.

+++

It turns out Jimmy Bae usually hangs out in the basement of an old, dilapidated garage, with an entrance connecting to an old, dilapidated alley. When Wolf arrives, there’s no one guarding the door, so either Jimmy Bae’s not home or he’s arrogant enough to think no one would try to enter without his permission.

Wolf pulls up the garage door with one hand, and puts a cigarette to his mouth with the other.

Unfortunately, Jimmy Bae isn’t here, and Wolf figures he’s gonna have to wait. He finds a discarded bin, turns it upside down, and sits on it. He doesn’t know how long he’s gonna have to wait, but he hadn’t had the presence of mind to bring anything with him except his phone, and Wolf’s not the kind of person to mindlessly scroll on social media.

Wolf lights his cigarette, and smokes while he waits.

It takes a while for Jimmy Bae to arrive. Wolf figures he goes through six or seven cigarettes. When Jimmy does get here, he’s not alone.

Jimmy’s talking to Jack Kang as he walks in. “Yeah, anyways, I was thinking we go pick up a couple of–” Jimmy spots Wolf, and his expression immediately darkens. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Figured I’d stop by for a while. Can I borrow a ciggy?”

Jimmy’s eyes land on the lit cigarette in between Wolf’s lips.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jimmy repeats, looking annoyed.

“I was in the area, and thought maybe I’d stop by.” Wolf replies, smirking.

Jimmy’s expression darkens further.

“I asked you a question. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Wolf figures that right now is as good a time as any. He puts his cigarette out on the floor, stands up and stretches, takes off his glasses and puts them on a nearby shelf (handy!), and grabs Jimmy by the top of his head.

Jack Kang reacts before Jimmy does, and swings at Wolf. But Wolf’s faster, and kicks Jack right in the stomach. Jack doesn’t go flying, because he’s not as light as Gray Yeon, but he’s not as crazed either, so when he drops to the floor, he doesn’t get back up. Wolf stomps on his head once, just to make sure he doesn’t try to interfere with the fight.

Jimmy doesn’t take Wolf stomping on Jack well, and he lands a punch on Wolf. Right in the nose, and the pain burns a little, but Wolf’s used to this kind of thing, and so the pain soon dissipates. 

Jimmy frees himself from Wolf’s grip, and punches Wolf again, and again, and again once more. Wolf’s not a liar, so he wouldn’t say that the punches don’t hurt. They do, but not in a way that matters for longer than a few seconds.

Wolf lets it go on for a while longer, then punches Jimmy back once. Jimmy staggers, and Wolf catches him by the hair. 

“My turn.” Wolf says, and grins. He holds Jimmy there with one hand, and punches him with the other. He gets in only a couple of punches before Jimmy punches him, but Wolf doesn’t let that deter him from beating the living daylights out of Jimmy. Granted, Jimmy punches well, and Wolf figures that maybe in a few months or so Jimmy could be trouble, but he’s not trouble now , and Wolf is a very present-oriented person.

Wolf keeps punching.

Jimmy’s getting angrier and angrier, and finally, he whips out with a punch that might even stagger Ben Park. Wolf goes stumbling back, releasing his hold on Jimmy, and Jimmy, the filthy opportunist that he is, kicks Wolf in the stomach. Wolf drops to the floor, and Jimmy picks him right back up. He starts punching Wolf, and since Wolf’s not the type to block or dodge, he lands every one.

But Wolf also isn’t the type to just take things lying down, and so the instant Jimmy makes a mistake, a split second longer between punches, Wolf hits him right in the nose. Jimmy stumbles back, and Wolf hits him again, then grabs Jimmy by the collar and holds him there, and hits him again, and again, and again. 

Jimmy’s not doing too well. His face is a mess of bruises and blood, and he looks like he’s on the verge of passing out. That’s not good, because Wolf isn’t riding the high of the fight the way he usually is. Wolf drops him, in the hopes that he’ll get up and attempt to fight Wolf again. He doesn’t. Jimmy Bae is a prideful creature, but he’s grown since Manwol cornered Jack in that alley. He won’t fight if he knows he’ll definitely lose.

Wolf’s disappointed. He goes and gets his glasses from the shelf he put them on, and exits the garage. 

It didn’t work. He’s still bored. Wolf takes another cigarette from the pack he brought and lights it. 

+++

Everyone with at least half a brain knows it’s no good to lie to Donald Na. So when Donald asks Wolf why he thinks Donald’s asked him to the office today, Wolf is about as honest as he ever is. 

“Because I beat up Jimmy Bae and Jack Kang.” Wolf says sulkily, holding his hands behind his back. 

“That’s correct. Because you beat up Jimmy Bae, the number one of Yoosun, and because you beat up Jack Kang, the number two of Yoosun. Who are, as you very well know, both in the Union. Now, Wolf, why did you do this?” Donald asks, sitting at his desk, shuffling the paperwork in front of him.

Wolf’s unsure if honesty is really the best policy right now, but he’s truthful anyway. “Because I was bored.”

“And, because you were bored ,” Donald’s voice grows dangerously sharp, and he looks Wolf dead in the eye, “you went and beat up Jimmy Bae and Jack Kang, who are, again, the number one and two of Yoosun, respectively. I don’t care if you do this to those outside the Union. I don’t care if you do this to those in the Union’s lower ranks. But to take a school head and his number two out of commission for a good week because you were bored is not something that can be easily forgiven and forgotten.”

Wolf doesn’t respond.
Donald smiles, but it puts Wolf even more on edge, rather than reassuring him. “But luckily, you chose the right school head to pick on. Jimmy Bae has lost a few too many fights in recent times, and I was going to send Jake to reprimand him, but you got there first. This won’t be scrubbed out of my ledger or my memory, but I will allow you to leave without breaking any of your bones.”

Wolf doesn’t move.
“Well?” Donald says. “Leave.”

Wolf walks to the door, and right as he’s about to pass through, Donald says something.

“And, Wolf? If you pull this shit again I won’t be so lenient.”

Wolf nods and leaves the office, closing the door behind him.

+++

Jimmy didn’t do it for him. Wolf’s as bored as ever. He’s laying down on his bed again, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. 

Clearly, the solution isn’t fighting someone who’ll fight back. And it’s not smoking either, because he did a lot of that while waiting to fight Jimmy. The event that had started this was him fighting Gray Yeon. 

What else was unique about the fight? Wolf isn’t sure. It happened on a rooftop, but he beat people up all the time on that rooftop. He lost, sure, but that’s not an experience he’s going to try to replicate. It’s gotta be something about Gray Yeon. 

He could lay here looking up at his ceiling, thinking of opponents he’s fought that have the qualities the White Mamba has, or he could just cut out the middleman and fight the White Mamba.

Wolf decides to go with the latter option, and wonders why he didn’t do that sooner. 

How does he find the White Mamba? He remembers that the White Mamba went to some kind of cram school, but unfortunately, he hadn’t cared to remember which cram school it was. 

He reaches for his phone and calls Hwangmo. Hwangmo picks up after the third ring.

“Hey, Hwangmo.” Wolf says.

“Hello.” Hwangmo replies, sounding tired. “What is it?”

Wolf’s not liking the tone, but figures it’s not the time. “Where does the White Mamba go to cram school?”

“Hero Cram School, third floor, Class A on Thursdays. Please don’t fight him.” Hwangmo says, and hangs up.

Chapter Text

Wolf’s totally going to fight him. 

He’s crouching outside of the building of the cram school, waiting, and he’s smoking again, to pass the time. Hwangmo forgot to tell him when the White Mamba got out of classes, and Wolf gets the feeling that Hwangmo might snitch to Donald Na if he receives any more signs that Wolf is trying to fight the White Mamba, so Wolf doesn’t want to call Hwangmo and ask. 

He keeps waiting. Time ticks by, and since he forgot to make a cigarette run after fighting Jimmy, he runs out of cigarettes long before the White Mamba exits the building. God, that’s annoying. 

He waits a little more, and finally, he spots Gray Yeon exiting the building. He’s alone; Wolf supposes that either his friends don’t go here or that they get out of class earlier. It doesn’t matter much, so Wolf’s in motion.

He follows Gray Yeon down the street, and when Gray Yeon turns into an alleyway, Wolf follows. He’s met with a book flying at his face. It bounces off his face, and the White Mamba is standing a few yards from him, backpack by his feet and a book in his hand. 

Wolf hangs his glasses on an exposed nail sticking out of the side of a building lining the alley. The alley is dark, tin sheets laid across the tops of the surrounding buildings forming a kind of roof. It’s dimly lit by only a few exposed lightbulbs, and trash and other things in various stages of decomposition line the walls. The alleyway walls are close together. All in all, it’s the perfect environment for the White Mamba to fight in.

Wolf notices all this, files it away in his brain, and then proceeds to ignore it. He strides towards the White Mamba, his hands in his pockets. 

“Whaddaya know? I was gonna ask you if you’d fight me. S’pose the answer is yes.” 

The White Mamba only responds by throwing another textbook at his face. It hits Wolf square in the nose, but even though this one is definitely heavier, Wolf keeps moving toward the White Mamba.

He lunges out to try and grab the White Mamba by the collar, but the White Mamba is fast, and he dodges before Wolf can come within a foot of him, stepping to the left side of Wolf. The White Mamba swings his fist like a sledgehammer, and it connects with Wolf’s temple. Wolf’s head snaps to the side. 

But luckily, Wolf is the kind of person who continues against all odds, and as his head moves one way, his arm moves the other, and he manages to hit the White Mamba square in the face. The White Mamba seems to take more damage than he did that night on the rooftop, and he staggers back into a wall in the alleyway. Wolf hits him again. 

Wolf moves to punch him again, but the White Mamba slides down the wall, and Wolf’s fist cracks into it, just as the White Mamba raises his leg and kicks Wolf in the stomach. Pain spreads through Wolf’s fingers and chest, but he ignores it in favor of punching the White Mamba again. Crimson blood flies from Gray Yeon’s mouth. 

Wolf kicks him in the chest, and the White Mamba’s head knocks against the wall, but he isn’t knocked unconscious. 

Instead, he lashes out and grabs Wolf by the collar, pulling Wolf towards him. At the same time, he steps along the wall, in the direction of his backpack, and lets go of Wolf. Lost in the momentum, Wolf slams face-first into the wall. The White Mamba steps behind Wolf, and uses his elbow to hit Wolf right in between the shoulder blades. 

It hurts. The White Mamba lands it right on his spine, and Wolf’s in pain. But Wolf’s not the type to let that stop him, and the White Mamba’s not strong enough to keep him pinned to the wall and unable to do anything. Wolf kicks back like a horse, but the White Mamba sidesteps him. 

But in order to dodge, the White Mamba has to remove the elbow digging into Wolf’s spine, and Wolf uses this split second to turn to face the White Mamba. He slams his forearm into the White Mamba’s chest, and pushes him into the opposite wall, lifting the White Mamba up a few inches. With his other hand, he grabs the White Mamba’s collar. He takes his forearm off the White Mamba’s chest, and uses it to begin punching the everloving shit out of the White Mamba.

Gray Yeon tries his best to get out of Wolf’s hold, but Wolf’s got a firm grip on him, and he won’t stop punching. Gray Yeon tries to hit him back, and succeeds, but Wolf barely notices, too focused on Gray Yeon and his pretty fucked-up face. 

It’s covered in blood and bruises, and Wolf is riding the high of the fight. He is having so much fun. This is great, he’s having a great time. He doesn’t think the White Mamba is, but that’s irrelevant. Wolf’s having so much fun. 

Gray Yeon’s scrabbling against the wall, like he’s reaching for something, but Wolf is having so much fun. He keeps punching and punching, bruises blooming on Gray Yeon’s skin, red like roses, or maybe carnations.

Gray Yeon grabs hold of the thing he was scrabbling for, and Wolf is promptly hit upside the head with a shitty, slightly rotten wooden plank. His head snaps back, and Wolf feels the blow reverberate through his skull. But he doesn’t drop the White Mamba.

The White Mamba strikes Wolf with it again, and still, Wolf doesn’t let go. He’s dangling the White Mamba in the air, and the White Mamba is hitting him again and again with the plank. Wolf still won’t drop the White Mamba. 

The White Mamba keeps hitting Wolf, but at the same time, he presses his other hand against the wall, as if securing himself. Wolf notices, but he doesn’t care. The White Mamba starts hitting faster and lighter, as if the blows aren’t meant to harm, but rather distract. Wolf doesn’t care about that either. The White Mamba tucks his legs up to his chest, and then, using his grip on the wall, kicks out at Wolf, both feet connecting with Wolf’s chest. Wolf goes tumbling backwards, and the White Mamba is pulled along with him, because Wolf still hasn’t let go of his collar.

Wolf lands hard on the ground, his head knocking against the pavement, and when Gray Yeon falls on top of him, he makes sure to knee Wolf in the stomach. Wolf spits blood, and when it lands on the collar of Gray Yeon’s school uniform, Wolf feels some kind of satisfaction. The White Mamba’s sitting on his chest, using his legs to keep Wolf pinned down. He’s still got the plank in his hand, and he’s hitting Wolf. Hard, heavy blows. Wolf’s head is spinning. If he shuts his eyes, he knows he’ll see stars. 

He can’t shut his eyes; he’ll go to sleep.

So Wolf does what he believes is the logical option, and tanks the hits. He figures eventually the White Mamba will get tired of it, because everyone always does. Wolf’s got this incredible persistence, incredible durability, and it lets him keep going even when everyone around him tells him to stop fucking going. 

Unfortunately, it seems that the White Mamba has the same persistence, because he’s not letting up. Each blow with the plank feels harder and harder, and Wolf doesn’t think he’ll be able to keep fighting after this. That’d be totally hot if a girl did it.

Finally, the White Mamba stands up. 

He walks away from Wolf, leaving Wolf on the ground. Picking up his backpack, he carries it with him as he searches the alley for the books he threw at Wolf. 

Wolf doesn’t feel like getting up. He’s not sure why, either, because usually he’s raring to go and fight some bastard. He could probably get up; the White Mamba only fucked up his face, not his legs. But somehow, he doesn’t feel like it. 

He watches Gray Yeon as he exits the alley, and he feels content. But it only lasts for a moment, and then Wolf’s back to the high of the fight. Thank god for that. 

After a while, he picks himself up, grabs his glasses from the nail he had hung them on, and exits the alley. He walks out of the alley to the station, and takes the bus home.

+++

He’s back in Donald Na’s office, being chewed out for losing to the White Mamba again . 

How the fuck did Donald even find out? Wolf didn’t tell anyone. No one brags about the fights they lose. 

“Care to explain why exactly you sought him out and then lost ?”

“I wasn’t planning on losing.” Wolf replies, sulky with defeat.

“And yet you did.” Donald replies, and Wolf hates the fucker. Hates him. But he doesn’t say anything, because anyone with half a brain doesn’t mess with Donald Na, no matter how much of a fucking pain he is. “I’m disappointed. Very much so. How are you feeling, Wolf?”
“Pretty decent.” Wolf replies, hands behind his back.

“Don’t be flippant.”

“Fine. I’ll beat him next time.” 

Donald sets aside the paperwork he was shuffling. “No, you won’t, because there won’t be a next time. Pull this shit and lose again, and it won’t matter whether he’s Union or not, because I’ll kill you anyway. You understand me, yes?”

“Yes.” Wolf says, and exits the room.

Chapter Text

What did I do wrong?

Those are the words that echo through Wolf’s mind as he lies on top of his bed. How did he get beat by that fair-faced little bastard a second time? What did he do wrong?

His first instinct, the natural one, is to say he did nothing wrong, that the White Mamba is a mean little bastard with little to no regard for other people. But then, Wolf is a mean bastard with little to no regard for other people, so he and the White Mamba would cancel each other out. In a way. 

Wolf is stuck on his first instinct. In all fairness, he never really goes beyond it. He doesn’t dodge, he doesn’t block, he doesn’t even use a solid stance. He usually delegates thinking and planning and the like to Hwangmo, and just kind of shows up when something he doesn’t like is happening, to either beat someone up or to threaten somebody with the possibility of being beaten up. 

Jesus Christ, he really doesn’t think much. Maybe that’s the problem. Back in the alleyway, he had noticed everything the White Mamba did, from the sidestepping to the scrabbling for the plank. Maybe he needed to think when he fought, instead of just going in guns blazing. That was probably it.

The thing to do now was practice it. Go into fights and use moves other than hitting and tanking hits. He couldn’t fight Jimmy Bae, or any other Union member, because then Donald Na would have his head. And maybe Hwangmo’s and Hayden’s too. He probably couldn’t fight anyone from Cheongang, because they and the Union were in a weird kind of truce, and Donald Na would probably have his head for breaking it. 

Couldn’t practice against the White Mamba, because if he lost Donald Na would have his head. God, they have him on a very short leash. Can’t fight anybody anymore.

Wolf felt so limited by the Union.

He needs to call Hwangmo. Hwangmo has the answers. He reaches for his phone on the nightstand, and dials Hwangmo’s number. 

Hwangmo picks up almost immediately.

“You fought the White Mamba.” Hwangmo says, and Wolf can tell he’s pissed. 

“Yeah.”

“You lost. Again .” Hwangmo says, and Wolf isn’t really shaking in his boots, but he imagines a weaker man might be.

“Yea. Anyway, can you give me the name of some fucker who I can fight who isn’t Union or the White Mamba?”

“Go fuck yourself.” Hwangmo says.

“Want me to come down there and fight you?” Wolf says, and he can hear Hwangmo gulp over the phone.

“Fuck no. Go fight Alex Go or some shit. Wait, don’t do that, because then Ben Park will come after you.” 

“He’s gotta protect his little boyfriend.” Wolf quips, and Hwangmo laughs, tentative.

“Uhhh, fuck. Jonathan Moon?” Hwangmo suggests.

“Who?”

“The guy Phillip Kim beat up. The Convenience Store Massacre, remember that?”

“No.” Wolf racks his brains, but doesn’t come up with anything. Wolf knows he’s personally beaten up a few guys at or near convenience stores, but Phillip Kim doesn’t have the stones to do that. Phillip Kim doesn’t have the stones to do anything except bitch about the Union not letting him in and hide behind his daddy’s money. Maybe he should practice on Phillip Kim.

“Wanna fight him?” Hwangmo asks, and Wolf shakes his head no. Then he remembers that Hwangmo can’t actually see him.

“Nah.”

“Okay, well, we’re kinda running out of options.”

“I’ll fight him. Where does he hang out?”

“I’ll text it to you.”

+++

Hwangmo texts the location to him, and Wolf takes the bus there. 

He goes to the place Hwangmo said Jonathan Moon would be, and no one’s there.

Angry, he roams around the unclean streets and dirty alleyways, searching for Jonathan Moon. Hwangmo had had the foresight to text a picture of Jonathan Moon’s ugly mug along with his location, so Wolf is trying to spot him in the crowd.

It’s not working.

Wolf is getting more and more annoyed by the second. He stomps around, and is almost ready to just fight some kid, but then he spots Jonathan. Jonathan is even uglier in person, and Wolf wishes he could fight the White Mamba again.

Then, Jonathan sees him. His eyes widen, and he lowers his head and looks away from Wolf before his three seconds are up.

This is inconvenient, because it means Wolf doesn’t have an excuse to go over there and beat the shit out of him. He doesn’t want to look like the bad guy, but he did come all this way just to fight Jonathan. It’d be a shame to waste the bus fare.

So Wolf approaches Jonathan, his hands in his pockets as he strides towards Jonathan and his lackeys. They make no attempt to move away, but Wolf can see that they’re scared; it’s written all over their faces. 

“You’re Jonathan Moon, right?” Wolf asks, standing in front of the little gang.

“Yeah.” Jonathan replies, putting his cigarette out against the ground.

“Let’s fight.”

“S-sure.” Jonathan stutters, standing up. He hands his phone and a pack of cigarettes to one of his lackeys– they take it and back away slowly.

“Alright, Jonathan, try and hit me.” Wolf says, and Jonathan throws a half-hearted punch, so slow that Wolf dodges it easily. “C’mon man, actually go for it.”

Jonathan tries again, and this time it makes contact with Wolf’s shoulder. It hits hard, but Wolf’s had worse, and so he easily grabs Jonathan by the collar. He punches Jonathan, once, twice, and then Jonathan manages to get loose. He hits out, fast, and Wolf, so unused to dodging, is struck right in the face. 

It hurts, but mostly because Wolf forgot to take his glasses off prior to the fight. He hears the snap of the plastic bridge, and rips his glasses off his face before the glass lenses shatter. Wolf tosses them to the ground; he figures they’re not going to work anyway. 

Jonathan swings at him again, and Wolf does his best to block it, even if he’s not really sure how blocking works. He copies a motion he’s seen a couple of his opponents use, putting his forearms up in front of his face, and when Jonathan’s hit connects with them, it hurts a hell of a lot less than taking it to the face.

Wolf is wondering why he didn’t think of this sooner when Jonathan swings at him again, and this time Wolf does his very best to dodge it. He does pretty good; Wolf figures he’s naturally gifted, but Jonathan’s fist still manages to graze him. And the fucker has a ring on, so it draws blood.

It looks like a cheap ring, and Wolf can’t remember if there are any diseases that stick to metal or not. Wolf should probably start actually paying attention in science class, instead of using the Bunsen burner to light other kid’s notebooks on fire. Man, the White Mamba would probably be the type to pay attention in class. Nerdy fucker. 

Either way, the cut stings, but Wolf’s had worse, and it doesn’t stop him from responding lightning fast with a punch straight to Jonathan’s face. Jonathan doesn’t take a punch as well as Wolf does, and he staggers backward. He’s weak, Wolf decides, and wishes Donald Na would let him fight someone strong. 

Wolf hits him again, and again, and then a fourth time, just for good measure. Jonathan is crying a little bit, and Wolf feels a little disgusted, a little disappointed, and another thing that has the prefix dis-. Distaste, maybe.

Wolf grabs him by the collar, and does his usual barrage of punches. Jonathan is pretty quickly knocked unconscious; this wasn’t a good fight at all. His lackeys have run off, smart intelligent people that they are, so Wolf doesn’t have anyone else to fight right now. 

He could call Hwangmo again, to ask for someone else to fight, but he has a feeling that Hwangmo might just hang up on him, or not even answer the phone at all. 

This sucks. Wolf drops Jonathan, and goes over to where he dropped his glasses. They’re totally broken, and while Wolf’s sure that he has enough money to pay for a new pair, he doesn’t feel like shelling out the money himself. Jonathan probably has some cash on him, right?

Wolf crouches down next to Jonathan, and starts digging through Jonathan’s pockets. He finds Jonathan’s wallet in his jacket pocket. Score! He opens the wallet and Jonathan’s got almost nothing in it. Fucker is broke broke. Wolf feels a little bad for the guy, to be honest. He puts the wallet back, and walks away from the scene.

As he rides the bus home, he thinks about the fight. Blocking was nice and easy, and generally very helpful. Wolf likes blocking. Dodging was harder, probably because it was very much against his philosophy of tanking whatever someone threw at him. But he’s improved, he thinks. He has a decent idea of what blocking looks like, at least. That’s good.

He’ll totally beat the White Mamba now.

Chapter Text

Wolf’s squatting outside of the building of Hero Cram School, again. He’s waiting for the White Mamba, again, and he’s run out of cigarettes, again. He vaguely remembers when Gray Yeon gets out of his classes, but had arrived earlier, just in case.

The sky above is mean and only the occasional rays of sunlights get by the thick covering of gray clouds. It looks like it might rain, but then it might not. Wolf doesn’t concern himself with possibilities.

He keeps waiting, letting time tick by. It’s just as boring as it was the first time. Nobody tries to start anything, probably because all these nerds are on Shuttle Patch, and no normal delinquent would be caught dead at cram school. There’s a convenience store close by, and he’s got money on him, so he could go and buy a pack of whatever nicotine product strikes his fancy. But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t want to miss Gray Yeon and then have to wait another week.

Eventually, Gray Yeon exits the building. He’s alone again, and Wolf wonders if he told his friends about their fight last week. But it doesn’t matter either way, because Wolf’s in motion. 

He follows Gray Yeon down the street, and when Gray Yeon turns into an alleyway, Wolf follows. In the back of his mind, he notes that it’s the same alleyway as last time; the same sheets of tin block out the sky, the same flickering lightbulbs dimly illuminate the narrow space, and different trash lines the walls in the same spots as before. 

Wolf notices all this, files it away in his brain, and chooses to remember it, just in case.

Wolf hangs his glasses on the same exposed nail, and then walks closer to where the White Mamba is standing, motionless. To his surprise, the White Mamba speaks first.

“Let’s fight,” the White Mamba says, his backpack dropped by his feet and no book in his hand. 

Wolf is pleasantly pleased by this turn of events, and as his fist swings towards the White Mamba’s porcelain pale face, he yells out an enthusiastic ‘Alright!’. 

The White Mamba dodges the punch, as Wolf thought he would. Unfortunately, the White Mamba also dodges the punch Wolf sends towards his stomach immediately after the first one, like he’s predicted it. The fucker looks supernatural already; Wolf wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a fucking vampire.

In one swift, clean motion, the White Mamba picks up his backpack and swings it at Wolf’s face, and in one janky motion, Wolf dodges.

The White Mamba’s eyes widen, lashes fluttering and lips parting in surprise, like he didn’t think Wolf could do that. Wolf feels good, it feels good to get the jump on Gray sometimes, and Gray really is pretty. Like a girl, but also not. 

But the White Mamba recovers from his surprise quickly, and kicks Wolf square in the chest. This one Wolf doesn’t dodge, because he can’t. The White Mamba is too quick for him, and while Wolf is reeling from the kick, the White Mamba slams his backpack into Wolf’s head.

This hurts more than Wolf had expected it to. Of course, the pain probably isn’t even close to what most people would feel, but it still hurts more than Wolf is used to. Fuck.

Wolf strikes back fast, faster than usual, and scores a good hit on the White Mamba’s jaw. Now it’s the White Mamba who reels, and in that second or two where the White Mamba isn’t totally aware, Wolf hits him a second, then a third time.

The White Mamba staggers back, and then, because he’s a mean little bastard with little to no regard for other people, he kicks dirt up into Wolf’s eyes, temporarily blinding Wolf. Wolf stops punching the White Mamba in order to rub the dirt out of his eyes, and the White Mamba takes the opportunity to punch Wolf in the nose, and then kicks Wolf in his left kneecap as many times as he can, as hard as he can.

This hurts, so when Wolf finally gets the dirt out of his eyes, he kicks out at the White Mamba. The White Mamba dodges, and Wolf aims a punch at the side of the White Mamba’s head. It doesn’t connect, because the White Mamba dodges yet again.

“Slimy… fucker.” Wolf hisses out, and he could’ve sworn that the White Mamba smiles a little bit at that. Wolf wants to call him weird for smiling during a fight, but then remembers that he himself grins like the Cheshire Cat whenever he’s fighting someone.

Wolf tries to punch him again, and the White Mamba dodges, then uses his momentum from dodging to slam his leg into Wolf’s side. This is a mistake.

Wolf grabs the White Mamba’s leg, and pulls it towards him. Since the White Mamba is still very much attached to his leg, he is pulled towards Wolf along with it. Two pairs of objects collide; Wolf’s chest and the White Mamba’s chest, and Wolf’s fist and the White Mamba’s face. The pairs of objects are very quickly repelled from one another by the force of Wolf’s punch, but the memory of contact remains. 

The White Mamba swings his backpack at Wolf’s face (when did he get his backpack back?) as he staggers backward. The arc of the swing is slow and not smooth at all, so this Wolf can and does dodge it with a simple duck of the head. He reaches out and tries to grab the White Mamba by the collar, and this the White Mamba can’t dodge.

Wolf yanks the White Mamba closer, and punches him before he can react. He punches the White Mamba again and again, and the White Mamba tries to kick him in the stomach, but his kick is feeble and Wolf barely feels it.

The White Mamba, on the other hand, seems to feel it very much. Wolf notices, for what could be the first time, how frail the White Mamba is. That doesn’t stop Wolf from hitting him, of course, but it’s almost amazing how many fights he’s won with that build.

The White Mamba isn’t taking it well. His frail build does him no favors; with each hit he seems to lose a little bit of his hold on consciousness.

And then the tenuous hold on consciousness the White Mamba had falls away, and he’s out like a light. Wolf’s disappointed, and he drops the White Mamba like a dog dropping a ball. Gray Yeon sinks to the ground in a heap, and Wolf leaves the alleyway.

He’s got some money on him, so he walks to the closest convenience store and buys that nicotine product, the cheapest pack of cigarettes available. The cashier at the store notes his bloody and bruised state, and looks down, probably not wanting to get into that mess.

Whatever. As he walks out the store, he opens the pack, pulls a cigarette out, and lights it. He retraces the way to the alley Gray Yeon’s unconscious in, sucking in chemical smoke all the while.

When he gets there, he leans against the brick wall and waits for Gray Yeon to wake up. He’s not sure why, except the White Mamba’s got a lot of enemies and most of them aren’t quite as honorable an opponent as Wolf is, so leaving Gray Yeon unconscious in an easily accessible alley probably wouldn’t be great for him.

And Wolf likes fighting him, so it’s in his best interest to keep him out of the hospital.

Gray Yeon takes his time waking up, and in the meantime it starts to rain, which is just ridiculous. The sheets of tin laid across the edges of the surrounding buildings keeps them from getting wet, but they’ve gotta get home. Wolf hasn’t got an umbrella, because he’d look like a fucking loser carrying one around, and he doesn’t think Gray Yeon’s got one either, because if he had he’d have managed to hit Wolf with it.

But it wouldn’t hurt to look, so Wolf squats down next to Gray Yeon’s backpack and starts digging through it. It’s a lot of books, a pencil case, and a wallet. The books are mostly on math, but there’s a manga volume in there too. It’s Fist Of The North Star, volume eight.

Wolf’s flipping through it, perusing the pages and shit, when someone interrupts him.

“What are you doing in my bag?” Gray Yeon asks him, voice full of venom.

“Looking for an umbrella. It’s raining and I don’t have one.”

“I don’t have one either. But even if I did have one, I would need it.” Gray Yeon pushes himself up off the ground, and now he’s sitting, facing Wolf. “Why are you still here?” he asks, and Wolf really doesn’t know how to answer.

But he makes something up and answers anyway.

“Started raining almost as soon as you passed out, and I don’t have an umbrella.” Yeah, it’s a lie, but Gray Yeon wouldn’t catch it.

“Not true. You’ve got a pack of cigarettes that you didn’t have before, and you’re not wet at all.” Shit, he caught it. But Wolf would rather die than be honest in this particular situation, so he tries again.

“Donald Na told me to talk to you.”

Gray Yeon’s eyes narrow, and he doesn’t say anything for a short while, like he’s thinking about it, but then he gives a quick shake of his head and says “No, he didn’t.”

“How do you know?” Wolf asks, in a half-assed attempt to exit this line of questioning.

“He wouldn’t have sent you.” Gray Yeon says, in a tone of voice that said he was absolutely certain of it.

“Ouch.” Wolf says, and smirks. He doesn’t know why he’s doing that right now, but whatever.

“Why are you still here?” Gray Yeon asks again. .

“No reason. Why’d you start the fight?”

“Answer my question first.”

“Fine. I thought that maybe someone was gonna fuck you up while you were unconscious. Why’d you start the fight?”

“I felt like fighting.” Gray Yeon answers, and Wolf is surprised. He doesn’t let it show on his face, but he really didn’t think Gray Yeon would be the type.
“Really?” Wolf asks.

“Yes, really.” Gray Yeon’s voice carries no irritation in it, just boredom, like he’s done with this conversation. “Any other questions?”

“Nope.” Wolf says, and puts out his cigarette. “Well, bye.” Wolf walks away from Gray Yeon, and gets ready to make a break for the bus stop.

“Wait.” Gray Yeon says, and Wolf stops. “Can I borrow your jacket?”

“Not in this weather.” Wolf says. “Whaddaya need it for, anyway?”

“If you’re not going to loan it to me I’m not going to tell you.”

“If you don’t tell me I’m not going to loan it to you.”

“Childish.” Gray Yeon says, and Wolf will not take this lying down.

“Petty.” Wolf snaps back. He doesn’t believe this. The guy he just beat up is asking to borrow his jacket, and then calling him childish when he wants to know why. “What do you need it for?”

Gray Yeon sighs and answers, “I’ve got a book in here that my friend lent me, and I don’t want it getting wet.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes, so let me borrow your jacket. I’ll give it back to you at the bus station.”

“Do we go to the same bus station?” Wolf asks.

“I assume so.” Gray Yeon answers, and somehow, that’s good enough for Wolf.

“Alright then.” Wolf says, mildly amused, and takes off his jacket, empties its pockets of his wallet, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a receipt, and then tosses the jacket to Gray Yeon, the GOLD label on its collar a little smudged.

Gray Yeon catches it, and wraps volume eight of Fist of the North Star in it, then puts the wrapped comic in his backpack. He stands up all the way, and walks to stand next to Wolf. His eyes flicker over what’s in front of them like he’s surveying it, looking for the best possible path to the bus stop. He finds it, then motions to Wolf.

“Come on.”

Gray Yeon darts out from under the makeshift roof of the tin sheets, and Wolf follows him, like a dog called to heel. Gray Yeon sticks to the outer sides of the sidewalks, close to the buildings that offer weak resistance to the rain. Wolf follows him, not really caring if it’s the best path or not. It probably is, because Gray Yeon picked it.

They reach the bus stop in no time at all. Once they’re under the cover of the little station next to it, Gray Yeon takes the book out of his backpack, unwraps it, and hands the jacket back to Wolf. It’s a little damp, so Wolf doesn’t put it on, just holds it as they wait for the bus to arrive.

Gray Yeon’s bus arrives first, and he waves goodbye to Wolf before stepping into the bus. The bus pulls away from the sidewalk, and Wolf is standing under the little station, waiting for his bus, red Ganghak jacket damp in his hands.

Chapter Text

“You little shit.” Donald Na continues. He is not smiling, and Wolf is hoping that Donald isn’t connected enough to get away with murder. He probably is, especially if the murder is of some universally disliked delinquent, but Wolf’s hoping anyway. “You are extremely lucky that you managed to win this one. You understand that?”

“Yes.” Wolf says, voice not sulky at all. He won this time.

“You are so fucking stupid. You understand that? You’re unintelligent, you don’t think about things. Good god.” Donald goes silent, like he’s stunned into it by the harshness of his words. Nothing about what he says bothers or irritates Wolf; he doesn’t care about Donald Na’s opinion of him. Sure, he’s scared of Donald, everyone is. But he really does not give a damn about what Donald thinks.

“I mean, I can’t. You are so fucking stupid. Leave, you’re dismissed.” Wolf leaves the room, and Kingsley Kwan escorts him out of the building. 

Hwangmo is waiting outside. He hadn’t said anything to Wolf on the way to Donald Na’s office, stuck anticipating the worst, but now that Wolf has come out of it unscathed, he talks.

“Wolf, you should lay low for a month or so,” he says. “I think it’d be good for you. Join a club or something.”

“Why?” Wolf asks. He knows why.

“Because Donald Na really will kill you if you keep pulling this shit.”

“I guess.”

“He will. He could totally get away with murder.”

“I guess.”

Hwangmo seems to pick up on something Wolf’s not aware of, and changes his tune.

“Well, you did beat the White Mamba. Wanna go out drinking?”

“Hell yeah.” Wolf says. “Are we inviting Hayden?”

“Yeah, he knows some girls who’d be willing to go. It’d be embarrassing to go drinking without girls.”

“Alright. You call the place, I’ll pay for it.”

“Sweet.” Hwangmo says, and pulls out his cell phone. He dials Hayden’s number, and talks to him for a few minutes. Wolf hears the words ‘yeah, he’s paying’ and ‘bring some chicks, okay?’. “Hayden’s free, and he says he’ll call his female acquaintances.”

“Acquaintances? He knows words that have more than three syllables in them?”

“Seems so. I’ll make a reservation at the usual place. Private room. That okay?”

“Yep.” Wolf says, and pulls the Union credit card out of his pocket. Hwangmo takes it and makes the call.

+++

This should feel great. He’s got some chick’s boobs pressed up against his arm, and she’s the best-looking one out of her friends. He’s just beat the White Mamba in a fight, Donald’s finally off his ass about it, and the place Hwangmo got reservations at has no reservations about serving minors alcohol. It should feel great.

But although the chick who is almost but not quite sitting on his lap is very hot and he is very surprised Hayden knew a girl this pretty, Wolf does not feel great at all.

The girl’s not heavy by any means, but she’s not the kind of light Wolf’s gotten used to. Her hair is dark and shiny, and her eyes are the same. She’s got some kind of clubbing outfit on, and Wolf isn’t that kind of creep, but he wonders if she has a school uniform.

Her hand is moving across his chest, caressing it.

“Hey, are you doing anything later?” She says. Wolf feels deeply uncomfortable, even though usually he would make a point of not having anything to do later. He does not reply.

“Cat got your tongue?” This girl is very forward. Wolf experiences a quick flash of empathy for his previous ‘dates’.

“No, it doesn’t,” Wolf says, “I’m going home.” He feels fucking terrible. 

“Aw, mannn.” Hayden says, tilting forward a little. The girl sitting next to him grabs the back of his shirt to keep him from falling off his seat. “Come on, mannn. Having a fun time, mannn.” Hayden’s a fucking lightweight.

Wolf stands up and makes for the door. “Bye, Hwangmo. Hayden.”

Hayden tries again, “Come on, mannn. Having a good time, mannn.” Not only is Hayden stupid sober, he’s also stupid drunk. Wolf opens the door and leaves.

+++

It’s Thursday again, and Wolf’s waiting outside of Hero Cram School, again.

He doesn’t care that he’s already won against the White Mamba. He’s not here to beat the White Mamba, just to fight him, and if he wins that’s good too.

It won’t rain today. The sky is perfectly clear and also Wolf checked on his phone. There is no reason for him to wait for Gray Yeon to wake up, and no reason for Gray Yeon to wait for him to wake up. That’s okay, he just wants to fight.

He’s got a pack of cigarettes with him, but he doesn’t feel like smoking. He feels like fighting, feels the antsy feeling in his blood whenever he’s just itching for a good fucking brawl . Nobody tries to start anything, which is just fine, because Wolf doesn’t want to fight some loser trying to shore up territory next to a cram school.

He keeps waiting, letting time tick by. Then he sees Gray Yeon exiting the building. Gray Yeon glances over, and his eyes widen a little bit when they see Wolf, like he wasn’t expecting Wolf to come back. But he turns away from Wolf and continues down the usual sidewalk.

Wolf tenses up for a split second, nervous that Gray Yeon won’t walk into the usual alley. He’s not sure why he’s nervous; he could fight Gray Yeon anywhere. But Gray Yeon does turn into the usual alley, and Wolf follows him like always.

“Let’s fight.” Wolf says, and the White Mamba doesn’t say anything, but Wolf knows he agrees.

Wolf knows the White Mamba agrees because in one quick movement, a steel water bottle is swung at Wolf’s head. Wolf manages to dodge, but only barely.

Wolf lashes out with a clean grab at the White Mamba’s collar, but the White Mamba seems to predict it and dodges. Wolf tries again, and is rewarded with a hard hit by the water bottle. The water bottle feels like it isn’t totally full; the White Mamba probably couldn’t swing it around like that if it was completely full.

The White Mamba strikes Wolf in the gut with the water bottle, just as Wolf manages to hit the fucker square in the nose. The White Mamba staggers back, nose bleeding, and Wolf finally gets a good grip on his shirt collar. Wolf gets in two good hits before the White Mamba slams the water bottle into his chin. That doesn’t stop Wolf, so the White Mamba hits him again, and then again.

Now it’s Wolf’s turn to stagger back, and the White Mamba wastes no time, taking the opportunity to slam the water bottle into Wolf’s knee. Fuck, it hurts. But Wolf is nothing if not a soldier through pain. He grabs the White Mamba by the hair and knees him in the face. The White Mamba does not appreciate this and knocks him square on the jaw with the water bottle.

Fuck, it hurts. Wolf straightens up in pain.

The White Mamba kicks him in the side, but compared to getting slammed in the jaw with a steel water bottle, it’s nothing worse than a love tap. Wolf punches the White Mamba in the face, and the White Mamba retaliates with a harsh knock to the ribs. With the water bottle.

Wolf’s not fazed, though. He’s definitely had worse. He hits the White Mamba with a hard punch to the stomach, and while the White Mamba’s doubled over, even though it’s just a few seconds, he hits him again in the head. Then again, and again. The White Mamba’s bleeding hard, blood dripping down his ivory face.

Wolf knows he’s got blood on him too, but it probably doesn’t look as good on him as it does on Gray Yeon. 

He pauses in his onslaught of punches, and that’s all the White Mamba needs. He swings the water bottle like it’s a fucking baseball bat, and Wolf’s head is a baseball. The White Mamba hits a home run.

This hurts, the pain so bad it makes Wolf wonder if the White Mamba started working out or something. The White Mamba hits him again, which allows Wolf to ascertain from the pain that, yes, he definitely fucking had. The White Mamba doesn’t stop; each hit slows down Wolf’s blocking speed for just a second, and within that second the White Mamba hits him with the water bottle again.

Wolf drops to the ground, the pain too much. It’s odd, because the pain is never too much.

The White Mamba doesn’t stop, just pins him down and keeps hitting.

Wolf’s eyes shut, and everything fades to black.

Chapter Text

Gray Yeon is waiting for him when he wakes up.

Gray Yeon is sitting on the ground, filling out a worksheet. He’s using his backpack as a desk, and filling out the worksheet in pen, like he won’t write anything that would need erasing. His hair doesn’t fall in his face, artfully pushed to the side, but Wolf wishes it did, so he could move it out of Gray Yeon’s face himself.

“What’re you doing here?” Wolf asks, and Gray Yeon looks up from his worksheet.

“Waiting for you.” Wolf was not expecting that. 

“Why?” Wolf says, genuinely bewildered. He hopes Gray Yeon can’t tell.

“I want to go to the movies, but I’m out of money. I beat you in a fight, so you should give me some.”

“What?” Wolf isn’t processing anything Gray Yeon is saying.

“I don’t have any money, and I want to go to the movies. Give me your money so I can go.”

“Why didn’t you just take my wallet?” Wolf asks. Seriously, why not? It’s no big deal. Wolf robs the people he fights all the time.

Gray Yeon’s cheeks pink. “Well, I don’t know where your wallet is.”

“So dig through my pockets to find it?”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean why not? I’m not rummaging through your pockets.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I don’t want to.” Gray Yeon’s blush gets a little deeper. It’s cute, Wolf thinks, then immediately dismisses the thought.

“But why don’t you want to?”

“I’m not a thief.”

“You’re stealing from me right now.” Wolf says. Really, what is up with this guy? Stealing from the people you beat up is fine. Normal, even.

“I wasn’t going to steal from someone unconscious.”

“But it’s okay now that I’m awake?”

“No, but I want the money and I don’t mind taking it from you.”

“Then why didn’t you take it earlier when I was asleep?”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to touch you.”

“Why not? We touch each other all the time. What do you think hitting is?” 

“No, I mean-” Gray Yeon blushes again. “Just give me the money, okay?” Wolf cannot for the life of him understand why Gray Yeon is being so weird about this. It’s just stealing.

“Alright, fine. How much is it for a ticket?”

“Really? You’d give me the money just like that?” Gray Yeon says in a very judgy tone of voice.

“Yes.” Wolf says, his expression totally blank. “I would.”

Gray Yeon blushes.

“After all, you did beat me in a fight, and even if you won’t do the proper thing and rob me yourself, you can still have the money.” Wolf says, matter-of-fact, and Gray Yeon’s blush dissipates immediately. “How much does a ticket cost?”

“Ten thousand, two hundred and eighty-five won.”

Wolf gets out his wallet and starts counting out the money. “Which movie are you going to?”

Wolf’s not sure why he’s curious, only that he wants to know.

+++

It’s an action movie. One that’s cheap and poorly made. Wolf can tell, because the special effects are schlocky, the emotional moments boring, and the only actress Wolf recognizes is not an idol. Very much not an idol.

Wolf sits three rows behind the seat to Gray Yeon’s left. They’re the only ones in the theater. Everyone else was smart enough to go see a good movie.

But Gray Yeon seems to be enjoying it, from what Wolf can tell. His shoulders shake with laughter during the moments that are supposed to be funny, and he goes totally still during the emotional moments. He didn’t buy popcorn or a drink; he’s totally focused on the movie.

His hair shines in the glow of the projector screen. Wolf wants to reach out and touch it, pull on it, see it dyed with blood. When his shoulders shake, Wolf wants to hold them still. When he goes totally still, Wolf wants to shake him.

He wishes they were watching something else, a good movie, so that people would sit in front of Wolf and behind Gray, blocking his view of Gray. He wishes the movie was good and that he could focus on it, instead of Gray Yeon’s brittle figure.

The movie ends, and Gray Yeon leaves the theater without sparing him a glance.

Wolf sits in the dark for a while, then leaves the theater.