By: Miracle Shining
PAIRINGS: HanHae, HanTeuk, TeukHae, HanTeukHae, SiHan (past tense), KyuMin, ShinChul, etc.
RATINGS: PG-13 to NC-17 (will be notated if NC-17)
GROUPS: Super Junior, DBSK, Kitty GYM
WARNINGS: Violence, Sexual Situations, Dark Themes, Character Death
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Don't own them, never will, but thanks for reading!
SUMMARY: AU Storyline~In the South Korean underworld, a popular form of entertainment is fighting matches. Men are judged by the fighters they own. A troubled fighter with a past catches the attention of two long time friends and may lead them both to the brink of obsession.
PROLOGUE: Prelude to a Wall
He had been twelve when the men arrived in his small village. They came bearing small gifts and candy for the children, beautiful silks and new computers for the adults. He had watched his father talk long and in a friendly manner with the men. They had smiled warmly at him, placing their hands on his shoulders. They spoke a language he knew a touch of. His father had always insisted he in least know a little of it, just in case such an opportunity as this would arrive.
The men then took him along with a couple other boys and one girl from the village. He waved happily, knowing this was exactly what he had been trained for. His father had looked on sadly, but nodded, glad to see his son may have an opportunity that many would not.
After all, getting out of China was difficult due to the recent immigrant embargo.
He still could remember the trip, the beautiful boat he had sat in while playing simple guessing games. What he knew of the language, he was in least able to ask for necessities for the boys and girl that were with him. When they arrived at the shores of South Korea, they were hurried off the boat and right away into a nearby cab.
The dormitory was not exactly homelike, but it was comfortable enough. He had been more than glad to find a bed and rest. It had not been an easy trip and he missed his father. But if this was what his father had wanted, it would be the path he would pursue.
"Remember to always stay at peace, son. Keep yourself open like the waves of the ocean."
As a child, he had kept those words close to his heart. They had begun training the next day. He accepted everything the men taught him. He learned from his mistakes by the first day. Take one wrong step, expect to bleed. Take two wrong steps, expect to be disabled. Take three wrong steps, and you will not step again. He had devoured his lessons eagerly. Where many children were already being taken out with broken bones and one out in a body bag, he had simply side stepped the hits. Natural skill and innate talent poured out of him. The instructors applauded his good work. He never faltered in his drive, always pushing himself harder and harder.
By the end of the third year of training, they called him "The Dancer." With the grace rivaling that of a fine tuned ballet artist he could deftly move out of the way of punches, kicks, and weapons. It was unusual to have one still quite young be almost ready to fight, but his instructors were not going to waste the opportunity to show off their prodigy.
It was the last day of July that a young man a couple years the boy's junior arrived. From his appearance he looked older than the other. He had been sent over by a rival training center when his skills proved a bit too efficient against some of the other students. His dark waving hair, thick dark eyebrows and almost black eyes set him off from everyone else. But he had a warm smile and a bright laugh. The two shook hands and then exchanged punches, dodging each other's with the same level of skill and speed.
The instructors nodded, pleased. It was decided the dark haired boy, known to be "The Charmer" and the immigrant prodigy would work together as a team. The two became inseperable as they went into full competition.
"Remember to always stay at peace, son. Keep youself open like the waves of the ocean."
The words remained true to the young man's heart as he and his dark eyed friend made their ascent up the ladder. Fighter after fighter fell to them. They were revered among the elders and respected by the young. The Charmer and The Dancer, like watching two bodies move in such perfect synchronization, one would have thought they were the same person.
When they did not fight, they laughed. They held each other and it was in each other they discovered passion and pleasure. They shared everything together. The fights, the rewards, the joy of just being with each other. They were perfection.
The night of the young immigrant's twentieth birthday had been full of well wishes and alcohol. Five years The Dancer and the Charmer had worked among the pits and the grime, among the steel and the dirt, among all kinds of circles and cages placed around them. But it had been nothing to both of them because they had each other.
They had walked down the street together, hand in hand, laughing warmly at the moon. A little tipsy, but not drunk. Happy to be close, obviously in love. The dark haired man turned then to look at "His Dancer" as he had come to call him.
"Promise me we'll always be together."
The older youth named Hangeng nodded and had leaned in. He had felt the brush of lips against his, but only for the briefest of moments. The sickening sound had shattered the moment. He had pulled back, his chest aching, the pain seeming to blossom through his sternum and into the very center of his heart.
Hangeng had looked down to see a hole had formed in his shirt. The blood was beginning to seep out, staining the expensive silk that his partner always insisted he wear. He had blinked briefly before his eyes moved upwards to see another hole. There had been blood forming around that spot. It was a clean cut right through to the other side. Hangeng had been able to see the lamplight in his hazy mind.
He didn't know when his lover had started sliding down. Perhaps it had been the moment he realized that the hole he could see through was due to flesh and bone being perfectly pierced through. He hadn't remembered calling the ambulance. He hadn't remembered screaming over and over again until he couldn't breathe because of his lung throbbing in his chest. He hadn't remembered spitting up blood from his own wound. All he remembered was his partner gazing up at him, his eyes clouded and yet he was smiling.
"Didn't... See that... One coming..." he had coughed.
The ambulance had arrived and both of them had been taken to the closest hospital. They both had been rushed into the same room, a curtain pulled between them. Hangeng had been hooked up to IV's, a pack being placed over his damaged chest. He had been vaguely able to make out talk of emergency surgery and a removal of a bullet. But that had become nothing more than background noise as he heard words drift from the next curtain over.
"Damn, this kid's a mess. Hey, grab me another patch... We're losing him!!!"
Those words had caused Hangeng to begin to struggle against the medical staff. Two male nurses had to hold him down and even then, with his well tuned skills, he was able to break free. Another male nurse had appeared and had grabbed him even as Hangeng had managed to dislocate his leg at it's hip, kicking over his head and knocking the man unconcious. But the effort had been more than his blood deprived body could handle and he collapsed at the foot of the next bed over.
The words that came next would begin to build a new foundation.
"Get that kid out of here!... We're... Dammit..."
"Should we call it?"
"Choi Siwon, time of death 10:15 p.m., February 9th."
Hangeng knew he had screamed Siwon's name before everything had went black.
He had awakened in and out of conciousness for three days. It was until the fourth day when he sat up screaming from another blood soaked nightmare that he saw the man sitting calmly next to his bed. He had been well dressed with an air of seriousness about him. He had cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up his nose mildly.
The Chinese man had nodded, looking at the smaller young man. He had looked younger than him, but looks could be deceiving.
"My name is Kim Kibum. I represent Xiah Junsu, an investor who is interested in purchasing you for private fights."
Hangeng had looked at the other man for a moment before popping his head back and forth. He had really not paid much attention to what this Kim Kibum had been saying, but became interested when words like "pay back" and "revenge" came into play.
"When you're ready to return to training, Junsu would like you to come and stay at his home."
Hangeng had looked at his wires attached to him and simply started pulling them out. Blood had dripped on the white linens as the medical staff was alerted. Two large men rushed in but within moments, Hangeng had them both knocked out cold, one who would end up being in a neck brace later. The act had seemed to impress Kim Kibum, who had stood mildly and gestured to the door.
"Well then, shall we go, Hangeng?"
Hangeng's father's words had come ringing in the back of his mind then.
"Remember to always stay at peace, son. Keep yourself open like waves of the ocean."
He had paused at that thought and looked down at his chest. The gown had billowed open, showing the bandage that covered up the bullet hole. Hangeng's eyes had darkened then.
"No, not any more. Today I close myself off. Today the first brick of the wall will be set."
"Hangeng?" had come Kibum's words through his private thoughts.
"Don't call me that any more. That part of me is gone." had come Hangeng's slight, almost too quiet reply. "Give me a new name."
Kim Kibum had nodded and escorted the Chinese man, still wearing his gown, out of the hospital door.
That had been three years ago.