Archive of Our Own ^beta

Park Gunwook is no stranger to misconduct. 

Not even now, with his thighs taut around the torso of a guy he doesn’t know the name of—blood dribbling out of the cut on his bottom lip onto the stranger's face—does he feel the weight of the game get to him. 

No. It only makes this better. 

He’s 19, the strongest rookie boxer in the whole country, top of his class. He’s had his own nose broken and broken others. Gotten black eyes to match the ones he’s handed out to his opponents along the way. Stitches that run up the curve of his brow bone to his temple. Some are still fresh and healing. 

Hanbin tells him he might get killed in this ring one day. Gunwook doesn’t think it’s such a bad way to go. 

What he doesn’t know is that Gunwook’s already done it. Torn himself apart from the inside out—that’s why it’s so easy for him to do this. Half a life in the streets will make you numb to the feelings of other people. This is what it’s like: if they cut him open, they’ll find circuitry and wires, not a pair of lungs and a heart.

He’s a machine. Born to kill and built to win.

This guy’s been down for at least four seconds by now. No force being used against the weight of Gunwook’s body on top of his. His arms don’t squirm, his legs don’t thrash—not even to knee up into Gunwook’s back like some guys do. His mouthguard is somewhere on the other side of the ring, maybe even on the ground underneath it based on the way Gunwook knocked it out his mouth.

This guy, whoever he is, he’s lost. 

Now that he’s won, Gunwook should stop. He throws another jab anyway, and then another…and one more…just for the hell of it. He feels a sick smile creep across his face—burns almost from the way his cut lips stretch. The referee blows his whistle and forcibly yanks Gunwook off the guy to throw him back into his corner. The crowd erupts into cheers and shouts when his fate has been determined. 

Gunwook leans back against the rope, arms hooked around it and throws his head back. The cheers, the adrenaline. He fucking lives for it. 

Ah yeah. That’s the stuff.  

The referee grabs him by the arm to pull him into the center of the ring. Blows the whistle and lifts his arm up. The audience goes crazy—chanting his name in only the way he’d ever imagine they would in his dreams. Gunwook lets his head hang down, keeping his gloved hand in the air.

It’s not long until he probably passes out from exhaustion but that’s okay. 

He’s won. That’s all that matters.

__________________

“Play that dirty shit one more time and they’ll disqualify you.”

“Boxing’s all ‘bout dirty shit,” Gunwook grits out. Lips are still sore. He’s just happy he still has all of his teeth in his mouth. The other guy might not get to say the same.

And here comes Hanbin’s usual lecture about being too violent or how Gunwook should do mixed martial arts instead with this sorry attitude. Fuck all that. Being a boxer is signing your life away to the ring. What happens—happens. 

Hanbin scowls at him before dropping his bandaged hand. Gunwook holds it in front of his face and winces when he tries to bend his fingers. Too soon. His knuckles are all busted up even though gloves are supposed to protect you. Reminds him of the way they used to look back when he used to fist fight only.

“Stop, focus on resting before the next match,” Hanbin says. Gunwook leans back against his chair and watches him pack up his med kit. He’d bleed open and probably die if it wasn’t for Hanbin being around.

“You know what the main point of these matches are right?” Gunwook asks. Hanbin hates when he talks to him like this—like he knows better than Hanbin does. He doesn’t. Gunwook just likes to rile him up a bit.

“And what is that?”

“Money.”

“Obviously.”

“Wait for my connection,” Gunwook says, holding up his hand.

“They won’t disqualify me because I’m what’s making people open their wallets for the association.” 

Boxing tickets aren’t cheap. None of that waltz in freely shit like they do in the underground. Gunwook would know, he’s been there. 

People like Gunwook because he gives them a show to watch. He’s not just a boxer, he’s a performer. His opponent is simply a supporting character. 

Hanbin stares at him for a moment with a straight face before slapping the side of his head in a quick motion. 

Gunwook jolts. “Hey!”

“Punk, think you’re tough shit even when you’re sitting in front of me looking like this.”

And Gunwook knows what he probably looks like right now—a swollen eye with cuts scattered all over his face. Looks like he just got run over by a bus. He smiles anyway, like an idiot.  

“Dragged your ass out that place myself with no help even after you passed out,” Hanbin grumbles. 

“Like you always do. Because you love me.”

“Wish I didn’t,” he says, standing up and grabbing his bag.

“See you at the gym tomorrow?” 

“The only thing you need to be doing tomorrow is laying in that bed. Don’t show up to the gym or I’ll beat your ass for good.”

“That supposed to scare me away? I’ve been waiting a lifetime for a fight with you coach.”

Hanbin laughs gruffly before walking to the door—shoots out his hand in a wave to say goodbye.

Gunwook sighs out, eventually dragging himself to the bathroom to take a shower. Which honestly, isn’t the best idea based on how wobbly he feels on his legs.

The healing process after a fight is always the worst, especially when he pushes himself too far like he did during this one. 

A bath on the other hand, is just way too much work and if he’s bleeding then he’ll just be sitting in bloody water. He prefers watching it trickle down the drain. Clean up’s easy that way.

He stands under the shower head and lets it drench his hair for a moment, steps out soon after and wipes a hand down his face. He’s got that crazy feeling coursing through his body again. The same one he gets after every match.

In the beginning, Hanbin told him not to let it get to his head, but Gunwook’s already far gone. He’s all ego head to toe, full of it, drowning in it. There’s nothing better than winning. 

It’s not until he’s laying down in bed that he really feels the after effects of the match get to him. His entire body is throbbing. Sometimes the sensation feels good. Enough pain meds will get him back fine enough. He’ll do that in the morning.

After a few minutes pass and he’s still not asleep, he knows what he has to do. He wrestles his phone out from under his covers and dials Hanbin’s phone number. The line rings for what feels like forever. 

C’mon. Just pick up.   

Then it stops. Gunwook holds his breath and wonders if he’ll hear the automated voice next, but it never comes. It’s just silent.

“…Hey Bin?” He sounds uneasy. He should never be uneasy, only secure. This is a weakness.

“Yeah?”

Gunwook pauses and imagines what he’s doing–if this phone call was the one that woke him out of his sleep and will be the one to stop him from returning to it. What Gunwook has to say isn’t all that important anyway. 

“You got home safe, right? You and Hao are okay?”

“Yeah Gunwook, we’re okay. Get some rest.”

__________________

Gunwook met Hanbin on any other Friday night.

Under the flickering light of a half dead bulb—in the hallway that led to the ring—basement of an abandoned building. Freddy’s is what they called it and The Underground to anyone who really knew what was going on. It’s not a place for just anyone. It’s for people who got nothing—and more importantly, nothing to lose. 

Gunwook was slouched against the wall, battered and broken, struggling to even breathe. Had the shit knocked out of him but knocked it even harder out of his opponent. Like a real champ.

“Hey kid,” a voice called out.

Gunwook didn’t turn to see who. Nobody’s talking to you until they say they’re talking to you. That’s what Gunwook’s always knew and that’s his basis for staying alive. A hand landed on his shoulder and a man moved to stand in front of him. 

“One hell of a fight.” 

Back then, Hanbin was more buff than he is now. A cap hid most of his face but Gunwook could still see his eyes. They weren’t hooded or ridden with sleep. Not bloodshot from drugs or swollen from black eye. 

They were bright. 

It was one hell of a fight. One that he’s pretty sure shattered some of his ribs. But he did win, the wad of twenty dollar bills in his pocket can prove it. Gunwook wanted to say something back, anything at all, but his head was pounding and he thought his legs were gonna give out at any moment. 

“Hey kid, woah, stay with me,” the man said, pulling him up to keep him from falling. Gunwook doesn’t remember much of what happened after that—he knocked out in a pair of arms then opened his eyes to a ceiling he didn’t recognize. 

First thing Gunwook tried to do was open his mouth to speak, but only felt pain spike up his chest. Fuck. That fight was bad. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself up with enough force to rest on his elbows. The room he was in was unfamiliar—an office type of set up. A desk and a computer was on the other side, a bookcase on the wall beside it. Much nicer than any room he’s ever been in before.

The door swung open before he could yell out or, hell, escape. Climbing out the window would have been a bitch anyway.

“You’re up.”

Gunwook shifted his head. It was the guy from the hallway back at Freddy’s. Now with his hat off and in better lighting. He had dark brown hair—shiny kind, and round eyes that looked friendlier than they did at the first glance. The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly when Gunwook still didn’t reply. He laughed, moving to reach into a clear container of what looked like first aid stuff. 

Gunwook flinched back when he felt the man grab his arm. Eyebrows strung up and alert. The man held up his hands in defense. 

“Hey, I’m just tryna wrap up your fists okay? Can I do that? Already took care of your face.”

He really did look trusting. Nothing like the kind of guys that usually roam the area. Those kinds of guys just wanted to rob everything they could off of you. 

“How do I know you didn’t poison me?” Gunwook still pushed, it wasn’t like him to be so naive. He didn’t even know how long he was out for.

The man laughed incredulously at that. “That really the first thing you say to a stranger that saved your life?” 

Saved his life? The damage from these fights was no joke but it was never enough to kill him—no matter how much it felt like he'd die. But maybe that was adolescent thinking. Many guys had died in that place. Gunwook was always just betting on the chance that he wouldn’t.

Gunwook let his head fall to look at the bandages wrapped around his torso instead. He really had patched him up. 

“Sorry sir,” he mumbled out.

“How old are you?”

“15, sir.”

He shook his head and grabbed one of Gunwook’s hands again. That time, Gunwook didn't resist. “You can cut the sir shit out. Makes me feel old.”

“Sorry. Manners and all.”

“Talking about manners when you were out fighting in a place like that. Bull-fucking-shit.”

“Well, you were also there.” Probably not to fight, Gunwook assumed. A lot of people came to just watch—get their sick kicks out of seeing people get beat up. He’d never want to end up like that. 

“Sung Hanbin,” he said, letting go of Gunwook’s bandaged hand and holding his own out for a handshake. Most introductions didn’t happen like that—or at all really. You didn’t even shake hands with your opponent before a fight. 

It was new. Gunwook kind of appreciated it, so he didn’t hesitate to meet it, even if his hand felt nearly broken.

“Park Gunwook.”

“I know your name. I asked around before I found you, and watched you the whole night.”

“Well, Mr. Sung,” Gunwook said. Hanbin gave him a look like Mr. was too much too. Gunwook was honestly surprised by how laid back he was. Then again, he didn’t really look that old. Maybe in his 20s.

“I don’t wanna be rude but, why?”

“Why?” He mimicked.

Gunwook looked off and held out his other hand for Hanbin. “Why’d you bring me here? I mean usually after a fight I'll black out for a few minutes then pull myself together enough to walk home.” 

That was always the fucking worst part. Limping through the streets at an ungodly hour. Sometimes he’d run, even if it hurt, just because being out wasn’t safe. Sprint around the block with the last of the energy he had stored away. 

Hanbin made a face. “You go home like this? Aren’t your parents scared about what happened?” Gunwook thought it was funny that he assumed he even had a family. Kids with families aren't in places like that.

“Don’t have any parents. I live at the foster home on Hill street.” Gunwook’s an orphan—never knew his mom and dad. It’s better that way, honestly. Nothing to hang onto.

Hanbin held an unfamiliar look in his eyes when he said that. Pity, is what Gunwook thought it was. 

He shook his head. “Still…?”

Well, he’s got the same zip-up black hoodie that he’d been hiding underneath for months. Even though he’s sure Miss Kim, who sits at the front desk, wouldn’t look up from her phone even if he did walk around with bruises for everyone to see. Nobody cares. And everyone only takes care of themselves.

“I wait until I get to school and go see the nurse. She promises not to tell anybody.” School system was shit. Even if she told someone, no one would do anything. Gunwook would’ve been labeled as any other rebellious kid from the inner city. 

“Kid, your injuries need a doctor. Like the ones in a hospital, not a high school nurse.”

Gunwook squinted. “Hospitals cost money. Don’t you know that?” For everything Gunwook needed done, he’s sure it’d cost thousands. 

“Course I know that,” Hanbin said, reaching over to grab a pair of scissors.

“But, you go to school a lot like this?” His voice had a weird tinge of worry in it. Nobody’s ever worried about Gunwook before. 

“I don’t go much. Skipped too many days and got one of those fancy letters, you know the ones?” 

“A truancy letter,” Hanbin answered. Gunwook nodded.

“So why are you fighting? Can’t get a regular job?”

Sure, he could’ve been like every other kid and go wash some cars or walk dogs around the block. Maybe once he was 16 he could’ve gotten a regular retail job. Ask someone to help him open up a bank account. All of that just felt like hard work. Without parents, doing that would’ve been impossible.

“Regular jobs are no fun,” Gunwook responded immediately, shrugging his shoulders. Fighting’s what he knows best. Hanbin grinned at him like he was trying to figure him out. 

“Saving up so I can get out of the system and live on my own you know? A really nice place with a balcony or something.” Those were big dreams. He’d figure out if they were attainable later. 

“No plans to finish school? A diploma should be a backup plan.”

He considered dropping out a while ago, but then that meant he wouldn’t be able to access the school nurse. So after this fight he was going to pull himself together and go for a full week. 

That was, until he met Hanbin.

“You asked why earlier,” Hanbin said when he finally finished wrapping up his other hand.

“Yeah?”

He pushes his hands into his pockets. “Tell me. What were you thinking when you were fighting that guy?” 

The guy he fought was honestly twice his size. Gunwook’s always been tall for his age but his opponent was no joke. The match up’s usually happen based on a random draw. Whoever’s name was pulled out of the bag—had to fight. He wasn’t scared—the desire to win always outweighed his fears.

Gunwook didn’t hesitate to answer because he thought the same thing before every fight. 

“That I’d hit him with everything I had.”

“That’s it?”

“Is there supposed to be something else?”

Hanbin had a hopeful look in his eyes. “Nah, if that’s what works, then that’s what works.”

__________________

He doesn’t go to the gym the next morning like Hanbin said. Even though he thought about defying him just to see what he'd do. Gunwook’s not that stupid though, just a little headstrong if anything.

Right now he’s just watching his coffee maker brew out the usual dark roast. It was the first thing he bought with his money from the first ever professional fight he won. Hanbin called him a kid for his decision to spend his first few bucks on it. But it means a lot to him—to own something of his own you know? 

He dresses up his coffee the usual way: a few dashes of creamer with no sugar and walks over to the couch. His flat screen is another prized possession—real fancy, and everytime he turns it on it feels like the very first time. Okay, he’s being dramatic, but it’s 4K, you can’t beat 4K.

Fight from last night is already up on Youtube—and yeah, he’s one of those cocky motherfuckers that spends all his time watching his own fights. Gunwook likes to argue that it’s a way to train. Watch your mistakes and learn from them or whatever. 

Seeing himself on the screen is always kind of funny. He really looks like the kind of guy that should just be hated—sure some people probably do. Anyway, his opponent’s name was Jungwoo? Jongwoo?  J-something. The subtitles have already passed and the commentators are speaking.

“Park’s entering the ring. Ex-pro coach and manager Sung Hanbin at his corner as usual. Wow, you know out of every guy that comes through here he always looks the happiest. Like he’s having fun.”

“Yeah. You have to watch out for guys like him.”   

Gunwook laughs at that. He does look stupidly happy in the tape. Jumping up on his feet while Hanbin’s talking to him about something. Gunwook honestly can’t remember what he said—likes to keep a clear mind before the game. Hanbin can talk, talk, talk, and talk.

“Everyone’s here to see him anyway but you know the question that’s going around the community right now. Who’s going to knock Park off his pedestal?”   

Gunwook hasn’t lost a single fight since he’s been a pro. Everyone knows it's impressive—shit being undefeated is not easy. But, they’re also waiting to see him finally fall down. 

“It could be Yoon, he’s won a couple of matches over the past few months, nothing compared to Park’s steamroll though. As a journeyman this would be Park’s tenth fight of his professional career. Only nineteen years old—absolutely insane. He’s definitely moving up if he wins this.” 

Moving up would mean more money, more media, more opportunities, and more difficult opponents. Gunwook aches for it. 

His fight against Yoon isn’t too special. He wins by a knockout even after getting points deducted for hitting after the bell. Sue him, he got carried away. Yoon gained consciousness after a few minutes, thankfully, according to Hanbin. 

He suddenly gets the urge to rewatch something specific, stops the recent fight and closes out of it. 

“In the red corner coming in at 128 pounds and making his professional debut it’s Park Gunwook!”  

Gunwook leans forward and smiles at himself appearing on the screen. This was only a little less than a year ago but he still looks so young. Back when he was more scrawnier than anything he competed in featherweight. Division mostly for either skinnier or shorter guys. 

Hanbin had his hands on Gunwook’s shoulders, saying something to him with a serious look on his face. Gunwook almost feels like laughing seeing him like that. He does remember one thing that Hanbin said to him at that moment:

Have the establishing punch.

“Not much is known about Park besides the fact that he’s an amateur with no logged history of matches. But he’s interesting mostly because of his coach, Sung Hanbin.”  

“Sung was an amazing boxer, olympic gold medalist and title championship holder. It’s such a shame that he stopped right in the middle of his prime. Nobody knows why still.”  

“So everyone’s wondering, is Park here to carry on his legacy? Guess we’ll find out. Here we go into round one.”  

Now, Gunwook’s debut fight was special for a few reasons; he was only 18, the youngest pro in the country at that time. Secondly, because he won by a knockout. There’s been many to do it before—after all, that is the goal of boxing. 

But none were quite like Gunwook. 

His opponent made a fair fight, around the same height and weight as him at the time. Also undefeated in the few fights he had fought. Gunwook wasn’t scared though. His basis for boxing remained the same as it was for fist fighting: he’d hit him with everything he had. 

Gunwook followed Hanbin’s instructions and had the establishing punch, a quick jab to the chest. Hanbin said Gunwook was quick on his feet for someone with that height, that was his advantage. 

Most people tend to go for body shots, build them up and make the final blow send their opponent to their knees. But the easiest target for a knockout is the jaw. It’s just a matter of landing the punch.

Gunwook knew that, put up a series of feints to throw the guy off then landed an uppercut right under his jaw. His opponent fell to the floor in an instant—knocked completely unconscious. Only 31 seconds in. Hanbin says it still gives him shivers to this day. 

There wasn’t another round. The audience around the ring was stunned silent for a few moments. It wasn’t until Gunwook stood in the center, letting the referee raise his hand up towards the sky, that the crowd erupted into cheers. 

Hanbin pulled him through the ropes when he got there. Carrying Gunwook’s entire body from his waist before letting him down. 

He cradled Gunwook’s head in his hands and pushed their foreheads together. He looked like he couldn’t believe what Gunwook had just done.

“I’m so proud of you.”

__________________

Gunwook hops back on his feet and throws a few punches in the air at his reflection. Uppercut. Slip. Jab. Yeah, that’s the routine. 

He sees Hanbin appear at the door through the mirror, stopping and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Bad news. Nobody wants to be your training partner today.” 

Gunwook stops his movement to catch his breath a little. Nothing he’s not used to. Back when he was an amateur, it was easy to find someone to tussle around with, just for the hell of it. Now, not so much.

He shrugs and gives the sack a good smack. “Nobody is as good as the bag anyway.”

“Bag can’t move,” Hanbin says.

“It moves when I move it. Even better.”

“Scared everyone off finally huh?”

Gunwook laughs and turns around before smacking his gloved fists together. “So? Let’s spar.”

“Spar? The fuck are you, an old soul?” 

“That makes us compatible.” 

Hanbin grabs punch mitts instead of gloves, to Gunwook’s demise—meaning the sparring is definitely not happening. He won’t let it show though, Hanbin’s the only one who can train him anyway. 

He motions him forwards. “C’mon run through the typical combination and work your way into improv.”

“‘Kay.”

Hanbin holds his mitts up to shield his face. Gunwook naturally moves first, his body has been programmed to do things by instinct. No matter what, the first punch will always be his. Jab, Cross, Left Hook. Simple. It’s coded into him. The hook is clean and precise but Hanbin’s advanced enough to block it.

“Guy you’re fighting Friday night. Name’s Ricky.”

Gunwook throws a fast combo of jabs before letting his hands fall for a moment. “Never heard of him.”

“Well now you have, you gotta be careful. He’s young but more experienced than you. Got a deadly left hook.”

“Mines deadlier.”

“Yeah, that kind of thinking will get your ass kicked.”

“My ass is always kicked. All I gotta do is win.”

For the first time, Gunwook takes the initiative to look up Ricky. He’s only 19 like him, a few centimeters shorter than Gunwook and a tad bit lighter in weight. He’s got two losses on his record but a whopping 28 wins—that’s a whole lot. They call him “The Prince” which Gunwook honestly tries not to laugh at. All boxer nicknames are kind of corny, but he definitely wants one. 

The name is well deserved though. Gunwook ends up spending more time scrolling through pictures of him than he probably should. He's handsome. He’ll admit it. He’s well groomed but looks rough around the edges in only a way someone who also is can see. A tattoo lined up the side of his neck and piercings on every inch of his ear. He looks like one of the guys he’d see in the underground. 

Gunwook usually doesn’t study his opponents, the other journeymen he battles against are usually not that experienced or—not to be cocky—but not good. 

The Prince Shen Ricky, however, is very good. He’s fast, that’s his strongest weapon. He doesn’t give his opponents time to think. He takes a shot and gets out of reach before they can get him back. The game he’s watching right now is one of cat and mouse—push and pull. 

Gunwook will have to be the cat that finally catches him. 

He puts his phone down and goes back to training. 

__________________

Hanbin took Gunwook in a week after that night he met him in the underground. Said he’d “take care of it” when Gunwook would ask about the foster home.

He’d never even considered the possibility of being adopted by anyone. Most couples wanted younger kids—more specifically girls and definitely not boys that looked like they’d be trouble. 

“You finish your sophomore year then I’ll enroll you in online school for the rest of it.”

Online school?  “Can I ask why?”

Hanbin laughed. “Kid like you sure asks why a whole lot. You should be happy you don’t even gotta go anywhere.”

“I don’t need school though,” Gunwook said back, because he was only 15. 15 year old’s are stupid sometimes.

“School is not an option as long as you live here.” 

He would soon learn that Hanbin didn’t play around when it came to getting an education. Gunwook always wanted to crack him open and find out why, but Hanbin was closed off back then. 

“Now, you said you wanted to be a fighter right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll train you starting this summer. Once you get back in good shape you know?”

Hanbin knew Gunwook just wanted to fight for money and that was his only reason. He told him doing it for chump money with street fighters wouldn’t do him any good. That he’d die in a fight before he ever got to fulfill that dream of his. 

Gunwook’s face lit up. He’d never had a trainer before. The underground was welcome to all, experienced or not. Some guys went in there just to get their ass kicked—others to beat people up for fun. The only rule was that you never snitched. 

“Okay!” Shit, he’d even do extra credit if that meant Hanbin would train him. 

Hanbin looked at him for a second before smiling—ruffled a hand through his hair. “Sometimes you’re cute.”

Gunwook met Hao the second day of living with Hanbin. Back then, they were just in a small three-bedroom apartment. Still nice, not beat down or anything. Gunwook never even had his own room or bathroom before. A place to live was enough to make him thankful for even the tiniest things.

Hao introduced himself as Hanbin’s “best friend” even though he could tell they were much more than that. He had big eyes and red hair that was usually slicked back. A real professional looking guy compared to Hanbin’s slight ruggedness. He was nice, talked with the kind of accent that made Gunwook assume he might have been from somewhere else.

“Do you guys think I’m dumb or something?” Gunwook said maybe two weeks later.

They were sitting comfortably together on the couch, arms around each other, real cute actually. When Gunwook walked in though, they jolted away from each other like they were doing something awful. They were always like that around Gunwook. 

Hao laughed, cheeks tinged red. “I like this kid.”

“You’re dating right? Anyone with eyes can see. You don’t have to act like you’re not around me.”

He didn’t really know why they were so keen on hiding their relationship at the time. Maybe that was just what they were used to. After all, Hanbin had lived a life in the spotlight for almost a decade. 

“It’s not weird?” Hanbin asked with a hesitation Gunwook had never heard before in his tone. They had a brief stare off. Gunwook gave him a look that said why would I care if you’re gay? If that’s what he was wondering anyway. Maybe Hanbin thought he was an ignorant prick just because he’s from the streets. Most people are so he doesn’t blame him.

Gunwook shook his head before walking into the kitchen. “No.”

A few months after that, right before summer, Hao finally moved into the apartment. 

“Thanks Gonu, carrying that up here would’ve made my back give out,” Hao said from the top of the stairs. The nickname started up after a few weeks of them knowing each other. He always treated Gunwook like he was actually a baby and not some scary kid Hanbin decided to take in. It was new to him.

He had his hands propped on his hips and a big smile on his face watching Gunwook pull his suitcase up the staircase. Gunwook honestly wanted to ask him what the hell he had in here for it to be so goddamn heavy, but it was a workout in a way he guessed. Hanbin was somewhere parking his car so Gunwook didn’t hesitate to help Hao when he saw him struggling. 

“It’s no problem,” Gunwook breathed out when he got to the top. “It’s the least I can do for you, after everything you do for me.”

Before Hao had officially moved in, he was pretty much there all the time. He’s a smart guy, knows a lot about math and science even though he's a violin instructor for a living. Everytime Gunwook was perched at the kitchen table to do his homework (and oh did Hanbin make sure he was doing it) Hao would lean over him to help if he noticed him struggling. 

“See, math is easy as long as you memorize the formula first.” 

Gunwook was stumbling through Algebra II at the time. Math wasn’t his strongest suit—more of an English kid. He knew how to talk about things and explain them well. Math on the other hand, it was too technical. He watched Hao write down the formula that would solve all of the problems on the sheet in the top corner. 

“Memorizing is hard though,” Gunwook whined.

Hao chuckled and dropped his pen. “Did you even try?” He didn’t. So Gunwook drew his lips into a straight line and looked elsewhere. 

“Hey, Hanbin took you to the gym for the first time right? Did he show you anything?” 

“Yeah, just a boxing combo.” 

The gym Hanbin goes to sometimes was really cool. Everyone there knew who he was, it almost made Gunwook feel unimportant next to him. Apparently, Hanbin was a real star in the world of boxing. 

“And you usually use numbers to remember them right?” Gunwook nodded even though he wasn’t that sure.

Hao picked up his pen again. “1, 2, 3. Jab, Cross, Left Hook.” 

That’s not the combo Gunwook learned. He was still having a hard time remembering the names for all those moves anyway. Back in the underground a punch was just a punch. 

“You know more about boxing than I do,” he pointed out.

Hao shrugged. “I’ve known Hanbin for a while, that's all.”

Hao wrote the boxing combo underneath the math formula before tapping his pen against the paper. “You could say both of these are formulas right?”

Gunwook nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Memorizing the formula is only an option, but it would make things much easier if you did. Just like memorizing the boxing combo and what the numbers stand for, would make fighting easier.”

“That actually does make sense.”

Hao leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, looking real pleased with himself. He was a good teacher. The only reason Gunwook passed 10th grade was because of him.

“Can I tell you something Hao?” 

Hao took the suitcase from his grip and rolled it to his side before looking up at him with a curious expression. “Hm? Of course, anything.” 

He liked Hao because he was easy to talk to. Not that Hanbin wasn’t, it’d just been different with him. Like Gunwook owed a debt to him or something. He always wondered if Hanbin felt obligated to keep taking care of him because Gunwook got comfortable so quickly. He wondered if Hanbin’s plan was to just let him go back to where he came from after he figured out how broken Gunwook truly was.

“Back when I was in foster care I never thought about getting adopted. Gave up and all.” 

While listening to him talk, Hao had something special in his eyes. He always looked at Gunwook like he was fragile and someone who needed a lot of care.

“But I feel like if I had an ideal pair of parents, they’d be like you and Hanbin.” Hao stood still for a moment after he said that, as if he was trying to figure out what to say. He wasn’t really that good at being emotional like that. Sometimes it just slipped out. Gunwook’s never been the one to open himself up—show his true feelings. Feelings show weakness.

“I just want to say thanks.”

Hao let go of the handle of his suitcase and stepped forward to wrap his arms around Gunwook. And Gunwook’s had arms wrapped around him before—mostly to hold up his weight when he was on the verge of passing out. Sometimes to keep him in a lock on the ground in an effort to win a fight. Just not like the way Hao held him.

“You are an angel,” Hao said into his shoulder. He always said corny stuff like that. It felt good though. To know that Gunwook was worth saying corny stuff to.

“Ignore all of Hanbin’s bitching, he feels the same.”

In the 15 years of his life before meeting Hanbin, Gunwook had never actually felt hopeful. Sure, he had big dreams. He was working towards it with an unrealistic tactic, but he'd never felt like he had actually had a chance to be something—make something out of his life. Hanbin and Hao gave him that. 

“We’ll take care of you forever Gunwook.”

__________________

Hanbin turned out to be one hellish trainer. 

“C’mon let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!”  

When summer officially started, Gunwook was expecting a few things: have Hanbin teach him combos like he’d given him a sneak peak of that one time, maybe train with another guy just to get used to testing out the combos on somebody else. Shit, maybe even Hanbin making him sit in a chair and learn all the boxing terms. He’d do it.

He did not expect Hanbin to make him run. 

And it wasn’t cute little laps around the gym or anything. It was outside in the heat, with a sun that felt like it was boiling him alive. Hanbin had that annoying fuckin’ whistle in his mouth, blowing it every few seconds as they jogged together in the field connected to the gym. 

Gunwook, who was definitely not built to be a track star, was on the verge of passing out. Hanbin blew his whistle more when Gunwook stopped and fell to his knees—making an attempt to catch his breath. He honestly felt like he was gonna throw up.

“Back up.”

“What?”

“Get back up.” Gunwook groaned out but stood to his feet anyway.

“Hey, why do we have to run? What’s this gotta do with boxing?”

Hanbin jabbed his finger into the middle of Gunwook’s bare chest. “Stamina. Right now you don’t have shit. Let’s keep going.”

According to him, running like this frequently conditioned some system in your body. One that would keep a steady supply of energy within you so you wouldn’t get tired during a fight.

Hanbin said if Gunwook wanted to be a real boxer, he’d have to run. 

Gunwook wanted to cry out. Tell him he’ll just go to regular school if that means he won’t have to ever do this shit again, but there was something so wildly different about Hanbin when he was training Gunwook back then. That excited glint in his eyes never dimmed—he was enjoying it?

Because Hanbin was enjoying it, Gunwook continued running.

“Being a boxer is all about what comes from the inside, not how big or strong you are.”

“Wouldn’t being big and strong help?”

“Some guys are strong, big muscles and everything, but they don’t know how to use it to their advantage. All you need to know to box well, is your way around a fight. Muscles or no muscles.”

“I know my way around a fight,” Gunwook said confidently. 

Hanbin laughed and jogged up in front of him. Gunwook chased him, even though he was tired.

__________________

Gunwook stares at a white door and anticipates the audience behind it. The hood of his robe is draped over his eyes slightly—a nice and glittery red one that Hanbin got him after his professional debut. 

“You ready?” Hanbin says, gripping his shoulders. 

Ricky will be called in after him, to respect seniority and everything. This might be the first match where half of the crowd isn’t here only to see Gunwook fight. He won’t admit that it damages his ego a little.

“Coming out of the left side, he shows no mercy and settles for nothing less than a complete knockout. It's…The Kidler! Park Gunwook!”  

Gunwook cracks a smile and feels Hanbin smack his back. “There’s that nickname you always wanted.”

“Yeah.”

Shen is better looking up close. Sharp feline eyes and hollow cheeks. Like the kind of guy the girls in the foster home would freak out over and be obsessed with. If he didn’t watch his videos, he’d probably assume he was not that strong. Maybe the type to bounce around and stay on the ropes, dodge all his hits until the judges have to decide who won.

The referee waves them over to stand in the middle. 

“I want you to understand one thing and one thing only. I want a clean and fair fight. When I say break you break and go to your corner. Understand?” he says looking between them. It's the same old rundown, sometimes Gunwook listens, sometimes he doesn’t. 

Ricky’s presence is off-putting. He keeps staring at Gunwook with a small smirk playing on his lips. Gunwook hates it.

“Boxers touch gloves.” They do so, then part to their respective corners of the ring. 

The bout is scheduled for six rounds—Gunwook’s used to only four. It’ll be alright though, he’s got the stamina for it. 

Hanbin wipes off some of the sweat lingering on his neck and mentions something about Shen’s left hook again. Gunwook knows. It’s all he’s been training himself on how to counter. 

The bell rings and Gunwook instantly jogs to the center. Getting inside as quickly as possible is always important. Ricky eventually meets him there, blocking Gunwook’s first jab to his face with his gloves.

“Oh, you’re fast,” Ricky says. Gunwook squints at him. Talking during matches isn’t something most people do—at least not anybody he’s encountered so far. There’s no time for it.  

Ricky seems to take note of the comment catching him off guard and swings at him. Luckily Gunwook ducks down to dodge it before jumping back. So that’s what he does.  

“Don’t run away, let’s dance Park.”

Gunwook lands a body shot that makes Ricky let out a noise. “Usually, I go for the face,” Gunwook says following the circle Ricky creates around him. Not letting him out of his sight. 

“But yours is pretty. So I’ll try to leave it alone.” 

Ricky shows his mouthguard slightly. “Well aren't you kind? Yours is cute but I don’t think I'll keep the same promise.” 

The first two rounds end with no knockouts. It’s an even playing field. Gunwook landed a few shots on him and Ricky has on him too. The thing with Shen is that he is fast, he feints his opponents out then makes them chase him and hits them when their guard is down. 

“Adapt,” Hanbin says, pouring water on his face to wake him up a little. It’s not the usual pep talk like most coaches give when they’re on a ten-count. Hanbin sees exactly what Gunwook sees. He has to pressure him.

When the third round starts, Gunwook gets in quick and fast, getting in two body shots in a row before Ricky can even blink. 

“Trying to smother me?” Ricky coughs out, backing up towards the corner. 

“You said you wanted to dance, so let’s do it.” It’s not really his style to fight on the ropes, but Ricky’s a strong competitor. Gunwook has to be a chameleon. 

What he knows is that in a face off like this, Ricky is no match for his strength. Gunwook decides to let it loose, ditching all combos he knows and just throwing improv—routine that’s unpredictable. He throws punch after punch until he’s crowded Ricky against the corner. He’ll break him apart, make it so he has no stamina to use.

He’s sure Ricky has taken all kinds of hits but, again, none are quite like Gunwook’s. It’s his pride.

He lands one more body shot before the referee blows his whistle for them to break. 

Gunwook grits his teeth and falls back to his corner. Shen is still standing. A technical knockout isn’t as fun. Everyone knows that. 

Ricky seems to ditch his own style and settles on mimicking Gunwook’s no mercy tactic. Cutting in quick and hitting Gunwook straight in the face. He’s had worse before, the pain only lingers for a second. Gunwook licks at the inside of his teeth and smiles. 

This is what he likes. Fight hard face to face. No chase. If Shen wants to finally play, he’ll graciously accept his offer.

They exchange hits back and forth—Ricky going for his face most of the time while Gunwook goes for the body. Mostly because he knows the second his arms aren’t there to shield his torso, Ricky’s going to take the opportunity. How he knocks people out, is by a left hook to the side, right near the liver. 

And for a while they really are dancing, throwing and taking punches without anyone falling. Ricky’s sly though, even though Gunwook is well aware, he sneaks into his blind spot. If it weren’t for Gunwook’s instinct to shift his body just by a little, that punch would’ve knocked him to his knees. The hook hits against his ribs instead—still hurts like a bitch, but not enough to make him fall. 

Gunwook huffs out and jumps back. Ricky smiles like he’s silly. 

He may have more wins than Gunwook does and more experience, but he’s been defeated before. 

Gunwook hasn’t.

In a split second he doesn’t think—feints straight which Ricky stupidly falls for and knocks him right in the jaw when he sees an opening. Shen falls from the sheer impact of the punch with a thud to the mat. The crowd erupts into cheers as the referee pushes Gunwook back to his corner. 

Even with his side aching and his heart thrumming through his ears, he still uses the energy to scream out in victory. Hanbin runs to his side but he barely registers what he says.

He throws his fist in the air and leaves it there. 

__________________

“Introducing The Kidler Park Gunwook! ” Hao rolls out excitedly and honestly, more loudly than he should. 

They’re sitting in the old diner that Hanbin and Hao love so much. After Gunwook won his first professional fight they took him here to celebrate. Bought him a burger and chocolate shake—he still remembers how good it tasted. 

Tonight he just got a chocolate shake, no burger. Grease won’t make him feel good right now.

“This picture is fucking epic,” Hao says shoving his phone into Gunwook’s face. It’s an article about the fight, above it is the perfectly black and white captured shot of the punch that knocked Shen right out. He smiles and pushes Hao’s hand away. Hao says he loves reading what the media says about him—that it’s like his kid won an award.

Gunwook tilts his head. “Hey Bin, what was your nickname? I know you had one.”

Hanbin opens his mouth to speak but Hao beats him to it, perking up. Hanbin sighs like he knows what’s coming. 

“Blow it up Bin!” Hao clasps his hands together. Hanbin rests his elbows on the table and puts his head in his hands. Gunwook can hear him laugh out in the way he always does when he gets embarrassed, cheeks dusting pink. 

“…Hao.”  

Hanbin’s really secretive about his career as a professional boxer. Of course, Gunwook could find out all about him with just a simple Google search, but it feels intrusive to look. So he doesn’t. He respects him after all. 

Gunwook can’t help but grin at the sight. “I kind of like it.”

Hanbin lifts his head up. “Yours is much better. It’ll stick.”

The Kidler huh. He almost wants to defy being a kid, but being as young as he is boosts his ego a little. He won’t lie. Gunwook pushes his glass back and wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“In other news, I’m getting you a physical therapist,” Hanbin says.  

Gunwook stirs in his booth. “…Aren’t you my therapist?” 

Here’s the thing with Hanbin: he’s not a certified doctor or anything but he knows a lot about fixing people. The stitches on Gunwook’s hand can be the proof. He’s the one that helped Gunwook recover completely from the underground fight that nearly killed him.

Now that he’s a professional and actually has insurance though, he can go to the hospital. Has been a few times to get shit like CT scans and such—prescribed pain killers too.

“Was. Until now,” he says, stealing a fry from Hao’s plate beside him. Hao in turn, jams his elbow into his side before stealing food off of his plate too. 

“We think it’d be good,” Hao cuts in. His eyes soften slightly. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed the way you’ve been limping around recently. You won. But the number Shen did on you was crazy.” 

Gunwook doesn’t even try to argue against that. He feels like shit. Has ever since the moment Ricky punched him and definitely in a way he never has before. 

“You’ve got harder fights coming up in the future too.” 

Winning this one means he moves up—fighting journeymen six times a year will no longer be his reality. He’s getting himself into stronger opponents, longer fights, more at stake.

Gunwook knows he’s right, but Hanbin is all he knows. It feels like he’s abandoning him. 

“But Bin,” he tries.

Hanbin holds up his hand. “No buts,”

“Sometimes I don’t always know what to do to help you, you need someone who does. Someone who’s always going to be there too.” 

Right now, Hanbin and Hao live in an apartment a few blocks away that Gunwook bought for them as a wedding gift. Hanbin was ready to die on the hill that their current apartment was just fine and that they didn’t need a new one. Gunwook ignored him and bought it anyway; Hao always talked about wanting to live in a new place behind Hanbin’s back. 

So yeah, Hanbin’s not always there beside him anymore. Gunwook has his own apartment now, another thing he bought after making enough money. It’s just like the one he always dreamed of buying. 

“Gonu, it’s a good idea, we found a guy too!” Hao says. 

“Yeah, after interviewing only twenty thousand people,” Hanbin rolls his eyes. They must have been planning to do this for a while. Why are they just now telling him? 

Hao scoffs. “God forbid I care about who’s putting their hands on Gunwook. A lot of people lie these days too.”

Hanbin waves his hands. “Anyway, his name’s Matthew. He’s going to move in-”

“I’m sorry?" Gunwook cuts in. Move in?   

“Let me finish jackass.”

Gunwook bites the inside of his cheek. 

“Move in with you ,” he emphasizes, pointing a finger at him. “He’ll stay in your guest room.”

“You guys are just renting out rooms to strangers in my apartment now?” Gunwook bites back.

“A stranger who is going to help you get better. You’re acting like his pay is coming out of your bank account. Stop bitching.”

He looks to Hao for help, usually because he’ll help him out against Hanbin in an argument.

“Hao,” he whines. 

Hao avoids his eyes, shrugging. “Lots of athletes have live-in doctors. This just means you're on your way to the top.” He always knows just how to groom Gunwook’s ego. Hanbin calls him a suck-up.

“Yeah, fine. When’s this big move-in happening?”

“Friday.”

Well great. That gives him like no time to do anything considering it’s two days away. Gunwook is over fighting back though. Instead he looks out the window and waits for them to finish their food.

__________________

Matthew’s homecoming (that’s what Hao’s calling it for some reason) rolls around quicker than he wants it to. Gunwook’s just been laying down in bed for the past few days—hoping he feels better magically. He’s just thankful he can walk. 

Hanbin told him to look “presentable." He doesn’t really know what that’s supposed to mean. Has he looked like shit recently? He tries not to think about it too much and just showers, puts on a nicer pair of athletic shorts that were gifted to him by a brand and a loose white T-shirt. Matthew’s here to touch him isn’t he? Why should he put a button-down on for that?

The intercom rings coincidentally on time as he’s walking into the living room. Gunwook presses the button to connect to the other line. 

“Park, there's a man named Seok Matthew here.” Guy at the front desk always sounds like he never wants to be here.

“Buzz him in, thanks.”

That’s how Gunwook finds himself rocking on his heels in front of the elevator. He doesn’t even know what this guy looks like. He probably should’ve asked Hanbin that.

Not like it should be hard though, there’s not many people that come through here rolling suitcases around.

The elevator eventually slides open and Gunwook is met with a small guy. And surely enough, there’s two suitcases on both of his sides. Gunwook, seems to clearly not need an introduction with the way the guy immediately hurries to bow before him. Weird.

“You’re Matthew?” Gunwook says. It comes out more surprised than he meant to. He can tell from the light blue scrubs that he has on that this is definitely his physical therapist. Does he even really need to wear that uniform?

“Yes! It’s nice to meet you. I’m a big fan.”

Gunwook takes in his presence for a moment. Blonde hair, big eyes behind clear wired glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose. He can’t be anything over 5’7 based on the way Gunwook has to look down at him. 

“Big fan? I’m not anyone special.” He can hear Hao in the back of his head saying he sounds like a saint for not taking the compliment. He tries, he tries.

Matthew blinks at him like he’s joking. “You are, you’re everywhere right now.”

Is he really? Gunwook rewatches his videos but he tries to stay away from social media and forums and what not. Figures it’s not good for his temper for when he accidentally stumbles across something not so positive about him.

Gunwook chews on his bottom lip. “You’re kind of not what I expected.” And to be honest, he doesn’t really know what he was expecting. Maybe an old guy. 

“Is that a bad thing?” Matthew asks, tilting his head.

“No, not at all.”

“Well good,” Matthew says brightly. His smile is big and stretches across his face. He has a nice set of teeth. He shouldn’t be a boxer, they’d get ruined if he wasn’t good in a fight.

“Can you show me where to put my stuff?” Matthew asks after a few seconds when Gunwook makes no move to invite him inside. Gunwook snaps out of his thoughts and mumbles a reply.

Matthew is quite bubbly and eager. He’s nothing like how everyone else in this city is like. Not the kind of guy that’d tell Gunwook to fuck himself if he looked at him the wrong way. He’s someone who’d probably run to help Gunwook if he accidentally tripped and fell in the subway—that kinda guy. He feels like an unknown species trespassing in Gunwook’s territory. Prey that fell into Gunwook’s tiger den. It’s different but, at least it doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. 

“So is this not weird to you?” Gunwook says leaning on the door frame that night, watching Matthew unpack his suitcase. 

He glances over his shoulder. “Is what weird?”

“You know,” Gunwook gestures his hands around, “living with a guy you barely know.”

Matthew shakes his head. “No. I did go through college and having roommates after all.” 

Well, Gunwook’s never been to college and probably isn’t going any time soon. He’s had 15 years of sharing a room with other kids though. But the foster home was the foster home. This is Gunwook’s own house. Just him—and now, Matthew.

“I’m guessing this might be weird for you?” Matthew says a minute later.

“Kind of.” 

“Just let me know what I can do to make it more comfortable. They’re paying me three thousand every two weeks just to be here.”

“Woah,” Gunwook says before he can stop himself. Matthew raises his eyebrows.

“Sorry, that’s just a lot.” That’s the kind of money Gunwook would dream of back in the day. Medical field is a good one. 

“Yeah, it is. I’ll cook you food or clean or do whatever you want me too. I’ve never had an opportunity like this before.”

Gunwook wonders what kind of background Matthew has—where he comes from. On the surface he seems pretty clean cut. He tries to imagine him as someone who’s had a hard life growing up for a second, just so it can be easier to relate to him. He does that with everyone he meets.

“I don’t want you to be my housewife or anything.” 

“Why? I’d make a great one,” Matthew responds. Gunwook thinks that was supposed to be funny, but he doesn't laugh. 

After a few seconds when he still doesn’t respond, Matthew looks down, going back to unpacking his suitcase. “That was a joke, sorry.”

“Right, goodnight Matthew. Just call out for me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, for letting me stay here by the way.”

“Wasn’t my choice, you’re welcome though.” Gunwook mumbles before turning around to leave the room. He knows, it’s childish, but now he has to be extra mindful of…literally everything…in his own house. It’s all shit, but he’ll deal.

For the next week it feels like they’re tiptoeing around each other. Matthew isn’t the hardest person to live with thankfully. Most of the time he’s just sitting out in the living room with his laptop and folders surrounding him. Gunwook wants to ask what’s so important that he has to have all of that out, but in the end it’s not his business. 

One morning when he wakes up to go for a quick jog, Matthew is already up in the kitchen. 

“Shit,” Gunwook says under his breath.

Now, his usual routine is to get up, make as little noise as possible, hope Matthew is still in his room, and sneak out to go on his run. It’s not like he’s avoiding him—okay maybe he is. It’s more of Gunwook having nothing to say. Matthew’s a nice guy, he talks naturally and seems nothing less than welcoming. 

Gunwook just happens to be fine with the way he lives his life now and the people in it. Why does it have to change?

“Thank god, I’ve finally been able to catch you,” Matthew says before Gunwook has the time to run right back to his room. He almost feels embarrassed knowing Matthew probably knows that he’s avoiding him. 

“I know you probably don’t want me here, but I do have to do my job.”

Ah shit, there goes that sad face he likes to make. Now Gunwook feels like shit. 

“That’s not it.”

“You shouldn't be running right now, especially if you’re injured,” he says, not acknowledging Gunwook’s attempt to deny him not wanting him here. Gunwook knows he’s right. He’s still going to argue anyway. 

“I’m not running, Just jogging a little. You know?”

“Still,” Matthew says sternly. Suddenly, Gunwook kind of feels like a little kid breaking the rules. He does want to get better and he doesn’t want to hurt. He should just listen. If Hanbin was here, he’d smack him upside the head by now. 

“Fine. At least let me go on a walk,” Gunwook says, pulling his beanie over his head. He pushes past Matthew to get to the door. Matthew makes a nose of surprise and stumbles over slightly. Gunwook holds back the laugh bubbling up in his throat.

“I’m coming with you.” Gunwook bites his tongue. 

“You don't have to.” Funnily enough, running and walking is the only time his mind is at peace the most, even though he hated it so much years ago. Hanbin is always right.

“I do,” Matthew says, slugging on his shoes by the door.

Gunwook could just leave right now—run away before Matthew could even catch up. Maybe even go take his bike out for a spin. But, something is keeping him rooted in place as he watches the small man grab his jacket. 

“If you break out into a sprint, then I’ll have to tell Hanbin.”

Gunwook cocks his head. “Snitching on me? You’re more like a babysitter than a therapist.”

“Maybe because you act like a baby,” Matthew grumbles out. And that should piss Gunwook off a little but he can’t help but smile suddenly. Has he really annoyed Matthew that much? 

The happy expression that he came here with has been replaced with a more stony look. Gunwook should feel bad, but he kind of looks like an angry little animal, it’s cute. 

“I’m a fast walker, try to keep up.”

__________________

The next morning, Gunwook doesn’t go for a jog. Instead he stays in bed until he feels moved to get up around ten. 

It’s entirely out of the norm for him to walk into the kitchen and see food there waiting for him. Matthew’s typing something on his laptop near the bar before he looks up at Gunwook. 

“Good morning!”

Gunwook stops before the two plates of food on the counter. Eggs, bacon, and pancakes. 

“Did you make this?” 

Matthew opens his mouth then closes it, then opens it again like he’s having a dilemma over what to say. He slouches, seeming to have given up the battle with himself.

“It’s takeout. I can’t really cook that well,” he says sheepishly.

Gunwook can’t either. It’s the one thing he misses about living with Hao and Hanbin. Waking up to breakfast every morning. Most days he skips breakfast—waits until it’s appropriate enough to have lunch and finds something to eat.

“It’s fine. I appreciate it,” Gunwook says, to lessen the worry on Matthew’s face. He assumes that maybe this is Matthew’s form of a peace offering. He pulls out the chair to sit in it and grabs the fork. 

Matthew smiles like he accomplished something great and goes back to doing something on his computer. “Getting that to be delivered here was so hard. I don’t know how to use your intercom system-thing.” 

Gunwook bites off the edge of a piece of bacon and stares at his hoodie. It reads University of British Columbia in big blue letters.

“Yeah it’s hard to use at first.” He points his fork at him. “Is that where you go to school?”

Matthew looks down at his clothes. “Oh here? Yeah, for undergrad.” Gunwook doesn’t know much about what college is like aside from what he’s seen in trashy movies. It’s another development stage he missed out on along with the second half of high school.

He slides his computer across the counter and hops up in the stool next to Gunwook. 

“You should eat your food too before it gets cold. Your computer will still be there afterwards,” Gunwook says. Matthew pauses before letting his hands fall down to his lap. 

“You’re right.”

Gunwook quickly learns that Matthew’s creating a therapy log for him, that’s why he’s on his computer so much and apparently it’s really important. 

“I have to show this to Hanbin weekly to update him on your progress.” 

“Weekly?”

“So that’s why we should do your first check up.”

“Check up?” Gunwook asks but moves to get up and follow Matthew to the living room anyway.

“Just the basic things so I can know what your problem areas are.”

Matthew pats the padded table when he gets to it and Gunwook hoists himself up to lay on it back first. He’s only used it a few times before whenever he got a cramp and had Hanbin stretch it out of him. He guesses that’s Matthew’s job now.

“First thing I noticed about you is that you’re tense.”

“Tense?” Gunwook parrots, even though he’s probably right. Guwook can’t really think of the last time he’s been relaxed. 

Matthew stands behind Gunwook’s head and wraps his hands around his neck, grip loose. 

“Your hands are cold.”

Matthew laughs. “Are they? Guess I was meant to be a doctor.”

He smells like soap. I mean—he’s sure they all smell like the soap they use but Matthew smells really clean and fresh. Gunwook stares up at the underside of his jaw because that’s all he really can look at unless he closes his eyes. It’s sculpted and carved out perfectly. 

Matthew’s hands drag down to his collarbones before he kneads his thumbs into the back of Gunwook’s neck slightly. Fuck that feels good, maybe is he tense. Gunwook bites the inside of his cheek to stop a noise coming out of him.

“This is where it hurts right?” he says letting go, and instead shifting over to stand by Gunwook’s side. He lays his palm flat against the spot underneath his left breast, right over his ribs. Gunwook lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

It hadn’t gotten that much better over the past few days, at least, not as much as he’d liked it to. He’s just thankful the pain didn’t completely cripple him.

Matthew observes his reaction. “Pain level? Scale of one to five?”

“Three.”

“Don’t lie.”

Gunwook almost laughs. “Fine. Four.”

“I see,” Matthew says. He walks around to stand on Gunwook’s other side. 

“Any other injuries?”

“More than I can count,” he says. Matthew gives him a curious look.

“Yeah? Like what?” 

Gunwook hesitates for a moment because telling someone about getting beat up by street rats isn’t really the best look. Would Matthew’s view of him change if he knew his background? He did say he was a fan after all. But he’s a fan of the Park Gunwook that the cameras and media have molded him into. Not the one that’s been buried away. He's got almost a decade of damage on him.

He decides to lie instead, just a small one anyway. “Just minor boxing stuff you know. Punches to the gut and shit.”

Matthew hums. “Seems like you just need to get used to stretching your body more. I’ll help you.” 

He goes to wrap a hand around Gunwook’s arm but before he gets to, Gunwook grabs his wrist. 

“Can you really do anything with these tiny hands?” He rotates Matthew’s hand in his grip, ogling at how small and dainty it is. 

Matthew furrows his eyebrows before yanking it out of his hold. “Yes, I can. They’re not tiny.”

“They are.”

“You just say what’s on your mind like this all the time? Tell me now, so I can start getting used to it.”

Gunwook runs a hand through his hair. “What’s better than being honest?”

“I’d rather you not make fun of me.” And Gunwook can tell by the way his ears are getting red that Matthew is serious. 

“I’m not making fun of you, who said tiny hands are bad?” Gunwook frowns. Fuck, he’s never really been the best at making friends. Hanbin and Hao are really the only ones he has.

“You implied they were.”

“It was my way of calling them cute.”

“Yeah okay.”

Matthew walks over to his computer to type without another word to Gunwook.

__________________

“How’s it going with Matthew?” Hanbin says when Gunwook hops down the stairs, welcoming him into a side hug when he gets there. They usually go on jogs together like this. There hasn’t been time recently since Gunwook’s been listening to Matthew’s “advice” about not doing it. 

It’s been about two months now since Matthew’s moved in with him. Things are going better than they were at least. They could probably still use some work. Gunwook just thinks he doesn’t really understand Matthew and vice versa.

“You’re asking me like you don’t know already? I know he reports back to you.”

“Well yeah, but you can still tell me how you feel.”

Well, Matthew has actually done his job pretty well. The pain that he feels in his side is minimal now compared to when they first started. Gunwook can’t help but question some of his practices though. He makes Gunwook stand on a sponge to see if he can keep his balance—shit like that. There had been plenty of times where he wanted to stop and ask if any of this really helped. 

“Good. Better, I can jog with you now and not feel like dying.”

“Remember the first time I made you run? You looked like you really wanted to fuckin’ die,” Hanbin laughs out before they start jogging. 

“I did, I was gonna quit on you that day.”

“Really? What made you change your mind?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“You looked too happy to be training me.”

Hanbin laughs again. “Yeah, I was. You’re my protege after all.”

They run at a steady pace for a good thirty minutes through the neighborhood. Gunwook clutches his side when they finally come to a stop. 

“You okay?” Hanbin says worriedly, placing his hand over Gunwook’s.

“Yeah, it just still hurts if I do too much.”

Hanbin pats his shoulder and leads him into a cafe nearby. “We’ll shorten the jogs to 15 until you can do more. Nothing wrong with that.”

“I never had a nurse or a doctor or anything when I was a boxer, you know.”

Gunwook swirls his straw around in his latte. “Really?”

“Yeah, I was actually much like you in the beginning.” Gunwook thinks that can’t be true. He was at the lowest of lows. 

Hanbin leans forward and shrugs up the sleeve of his jacket to expose his arm. “Right there,” he says dragging a finger over a mark on his arm. 

“I gave myself stitches here once.”

“Yourself?” Gunwook gapes his mouth open and reaches to trace over the now healed wound. 

“Hurt like a bitch. I barely knew what I was doing, but I knew I had to get it to stop bleeding so much.”

“Couldn’t go to the hospital?”

“Hospitals cost money. You should know that.” Gunwook immediately recognizes his famous 15 year old self’s words, laughing. 

That really showed what kind of person Hanbin was. Gunwook was strong, but not strong enough to take care of himself like that.

Hanbin pushes his sleeve back down. “I want you to give Matthew a chance.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hanbin rolls his eyes. “Oh please, don't act dense. I know you’re giving him a hard time like a brat.” Okay, that’s not entirely true. Sure Gunwook made fun of how small his hands were once…or twice. He learned his lesson. 

“Did he say that?”

“And if he did?”

Gunwook sighs out. There’s no use in doing this with Hanbin, he’ll always win. 

“I never told you why I stopped boxing,” Hanbin says after a while.

Nobody knows. Not even the news outlets or the stalker paparazzi. The great Sung Hanbin disappeared from the boxing world after nearly a decade in it—like he hadn’t been there at all. 

“I broke my wrist in the last match I ever fought in.”

Gunwook raises his eyebrows. “You did?”

“Yeah, I went all in trying to beat that guy you know? Lost control, punched even if it hurt.” Gunwook slouches in his seat. He knows that’s exactly how he boxes. Maybe this is Hanbin’s way of warning him or teaching him a life lesson.

A wrist injury is pretty easy to hide though. No wonder nobody knew about that. 

“Doesn’t it recover quick though? Why didn’t you go back? You’re still young.”

Hanbin laughs. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever called me young.” 

“Thing about an injury like that, you’ll never feel like you’ve really healed. Every time I went back to practice…I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to break my wrist again.” Hanbin looks in pain just talking about it. 

“I didn’t have any healthy practices when I was at my peak. I never listened to anybody who tried to help me. I was stubborn as fuck.”

“You’re about to say just like me aren’t you.”

Hanbin holds his hands up. “If the shoe fits.”

It’s quiet for a while. Only the sound of the cafe radio and the chatters of people around them fill their space.

“Let Matthew help you okay?” Hanbin says, like it’s a command. Gunwook can tell he’s serious about it.

“So if anything happens you won't be scared to go back.”

__________________

Gunwook took a rather odd approach to getting close to Matthew. 

At first he was asking Hao for advice in which he responded with “just get to know him ” but Gunwook didn’t really know how to do that. He obviously had next to nothing in common with Matthew.

Matthew’s two years older than him, has a college degree, and is from another country. What’s he supposed to talk to him about?

He could just ask him what he likes. But when it comes to Matthew, Gunwook feels like all of his communication skills got thrown out of the window. The only times they interact are to say good morning and goodnight or to do Gunwook’s check up. He’s already pissed him off a good number of times too.

With Matthew, there’s an unfamiliar hesitation. Gunwook hates it. Simply because he’s never been the one to hesitate. 

And maybe, just maybe, it has something to do with the effects of Matthew putting his hands on him all the time. That’s a conversation for another time though.

There was this one time where Matthew knocked on his door to ask Gunwook how to put the stopper up in the guest room bathroom. He almost seemed a little embarrassed to ask.

Gunwook didn’t hold it against him, he’s had a lifetime of getting used to fancy things. 

“You’re taking a bath?”

“…Yes?”

“A shower would be easier,” Gunwook says. Matthew gives him a look like he obviously knows that already before reaching forward to start filling the tub. 

“A bath is good for you, helps relax your muscles.” He always says things like that, sounds straight out of a book.

Gunwook shivers thinking about all the ice baths Hanbin made him take back when he was a kid. He said the same type of thing Matthew did, but Gunwook was always left freezing and not very relaxed.

“So I should have this one instead of you then, right?” He says gesturing towards the tub. It’s a joke. He’s found that he can’t help but poke fun at Matthew.

In a way, he’s kind of like Hanbin. But, Hanbin doesn’t really have the kinda cute reactions Matthew has.

Matthew laughs out, pulling the curtain back. “So then I can take a bath in your tub then? I’m sure it’s nicer and fancier.”

“All of the tubs in this place are mine.”

Matthew bites his bottom lip like he’s holding back from saying something. Gunwook almost wishes he would. 

He slouches. “You really want it? You can have it.”

But, Matthew never goes all the way with him. In the end he’s just here to work. Simply an employee and aid to Gunwook. It’s why being close to him is so hard.  

He waves him off. “I’m kidding. Enjoy.”

Gunwook’s got a shit way of thinking.

He doesn’t really want to ask what Matthew enjoys doing because what if it’s something Gunwook hates? It’s childish, he knows. Hao’s voice is always in his head calling him a big baby. 

“Are you serious?” Matthew gawks at him. They’re sitting on the ground around the coffee table in the living room. Stacked pile of cards in between them. 

Uno is Gunwook’s favorite game, always has been. It’s fun, simple, and easy to tweak the rules to. But, according to Matthew he’s playing dirty. 

Gunwook looks up from his fan of cards and raises his eyebrows. “What’d I do this time?” He groans.

“You just put down two plus four’s at the same time.”

“So? Draw eight then.”

“You’re really cheating in the easiest card game in the world?” Matthew deadpans. 

Gunwook grins, because Matthew’s getting annoyed again. He puffs out his cheeks a lot in frustration when he does—tips of ears turn red too. 

“What’s wrong with playing by my rules? My version’s fun.” And honestly, Gunwook’s making up things as he goes and it’s entertaining him because Matthew goes along with everything he says.

Matthew draws eight. “Fun for you because you’re winning.”

“I always win,” Gunwook says, putting down a blue card. 

It’s going well for at least two months after that. Matthew has gotten used to the way Gunwook is and doesn’t get so offended by everything. Gunwook has adapted to Matthew’s presence in general. Things are fine. 

Until, one day.

Gunwook’s walking through the hallway to just go get a water bottle or gatorade or…something from the kitchen because he’s fucking thirsty okay? At the end of the hallway is the guest room that Matthew stays in. Usually it’s closed.

Gunwook doesn’t have a problem with that—respects his privacy at all. It wasn’t like Matthew spent much time there anyway. Since he had to use his computer so much, he always settled on being out in the living area or dining room. 

But this time it was cracked open. 

Now, Gunwook knows how to mind his business. It’s just how he grew up so he wouldn’t get decked in the face by a stranger. So, he should've just walked past Matthew’s room like he would’ve done any other day. But, he hears Matthew say his name. He freezes right before he gets to the door and on instinct, jumps back and glues himself to the wall. 

It’s an invasion of privacy. He really shouldn’t be eavesdropping on a conversation Matthew is having. Yet, he’s the one who had his door open in the first place. This is Gunwook’s house, of course there was a chance he’d be walking through it. 

“Gunwook? Oh yeah, he’s cool.”

Matthew thinks he’s cool. That’s good, he guesses.

“Definitely not as nice as I thought he’d be though,” Matthew says with a quiet voice. Gunwook frowns at that, even though he knows he’s not exactly the friendliest.

Then he’s thinking about if that’s what everyone assumes of him. He doesn’t do a lot of press interviews or interact with boxing fans aside from fist bumps as he walks through the crowd. Hanbin says they need to get him a social media manager or something.

“Is he sexy? Of course you’re asking me that.” Matthew laughs, Gunwook can hear him moving around on his bed. He wishes he could see the expression on his face. 

Gunwook realizes that he’s waiting to hear Matthew’s answer to the question. Does Matthew think he’s sexy? He should smack himself stupid. When has Gunwook ever cared about what people thought of him? 

“Yeah, he’s hot.”

The silly grin crawls onto his face before he can stop it. He almost feels like laughing at how he was holding his breath waiting for his answer. 

It’s not until hours later, when he’s in bed staring at his ceiling that he realizes Matthew is attracted to him. The thought makes his stomach turn. Then, his face starts getting hot—then his whole body is hot. Fuck him. 

Gunwook groans and turns over on his stomach, wishing to forget about it all.  

For the next few weeks after overhearing the conversation, Gunwook finds himself unintentionally limiting his contact with Matthew. He really shouldn’t, because he’s making it obvious that he knows something that Matthew doesn’t. 

And it really shouldn’t be weird, especially for someone with an ego the size of Gunwook’s. Many people are his fans, many people call him hot, but this is different. Don’t ask him why, but he’s oddly embarrassed.

“You should be good for your next fight. You’ve relaxed much more compared to when we first started,” Matthew says, digging his thumbs into Gunwook’s back.

The check-up’s have turned into something he simultaneously dreads and anticipates. Mostly because it’s the one time Matthew’s super close to him. 

“Great,” Gunwook chokes out. Matthew’s for sure noticed his change in behavior, but doesn’t dare to confront him about it. Gunwook almost wishes he would.

Maybe if Matthew said something first, it’d be easier for Gunwook to say something back. 

“Let’s stretch your side and see how you react to pressure.” 

Gunwook lays down back-first. Matthew slides his hand under his thigh to lift his leg and pushes it diagonally to his chest.

Gunwook shuts his eyes so fucking tight. They’ve done this before, but that was back before he knew things he shouldn’t. Back before Matthew pressing his body up against Gunwook’s like this made him feel things that he’s not sure he’s ready to sort out. 

He doesn’t open his eyes to look at Matthew’s face, or his chest which is probably right next to Gunwook’s head. And his own brain isn’t safe because he’s thinking about how Matthew’s hands feel against his bare skin. 

One thing’s for sure. Gunwook thinks way more about Matthew than he probably should. 

He wishes to die. To be knocked out right then and right there. Matthew’s just doing his job. Get it through your head.  

“Okay other side.”

Gunwook sighs out and follows his directions.

__________________

Blood, sweat, and tears is what makes a fighter according to Hanbin. Gunwook thinks he’s just pulling that cliche shit out of his ass. 

He pounds relentlessly at the bag, been going at it for at least a good 30 minutes.

He’s recovered completely from the fight against Shen in five months. Now he can finally push himself as hard as he used to. It’s one of those days where Hanbin’s hounding him like he’s crazy. 

“Arms up. Faster,” he says, circling him with his arms crossed. 

Yeah, yeah. Gunwook thinks but doesn’t say. Today’s not one for talking back. 

He’s doing that for a while before he hears a voice shouting his name across the gym. 

“Park,” the voice booms. Gunwook stops his punching spree with a high bag and looks over his shoulder. A tall guy, who can't be only a few centimeters taller than him is suddenly storming towards him.

Apparently, Gunwook’s upcoming fight is against him—Kim Gyuvin—this is the way he finds out. By the guy trespassing in his own gym and sticking his face in Gunwook’s.

Where Gunwook’s from, that means you're looking for a fight. Gunwook’s never even seen him before in his life. 

Hanbin tells him that trash talking and psyching out your opponents is a common thing in boxing. Gunwook thinks it’s bullshit.

“I saw what you did to Ricky.”

Gunwook glances around him to look at Hanbin. Hanbin just shrugs in return, but obviously ready to step in if things go south. 

He knows what he did to Ricky. He was there. Shen is probably fine. Gunwook shakes his head in confusion and squints at him. “Okay?”

“You gave him a concussion.” Gunwook feels his face harden. This guy can’t be serious. He sure does look the part though—brows furrowed hard and frowning. Gunwook can’t possibly think of a reason for him to be so upset about this. It’s not like a concussion takes months to heal from.

“That kind of thing tends to happen in boxing. Are you dumb?”

The comment seems to not sit well with Gyuvin. “Your boxing is shit,” he grits, shoving a finger into Gunwook’s chest. By reflex, Gunwook pushes him back. 

“Back the fuck up man. You wanna fight? We can do that-”

Hanbin steps in the middle of them, placing a hand on Gunwook’s chest and holding him back.

“You can do that in the ring,” he sighs, cutting Gunwook off. 

He turns to Gyuvin. “This is a private gym, please leave now.” Hanbin’s always been the one to be calm like that. It’s the angel’s way of saying get the fuck out of here. 

“Friday Park. Prepare for your loss.” 

Gunwook watches him leave, mumbling something under his breath about how that was corny and stupid. Hanbin tells him to cut it out. 

So yeah, Kim Gyuvin has this sort of revenge plot against Gunwook for knocking out Shen a few months ago. According to Hanbin, enemies in the boxing world are unavoidable. People play with their emotions and take things too far sometimes. 

Gunwook almost wants to find it sweet. Apparently Kim and Shen are best friends and have been for a while. That’s too bad. Gunwook will prepare for one thing and one thing only now. 

And that’s to give Gyuvin a matching concussion, you know, since he wants to insult him and everything.

Weirdly enough it gets him riled up. For the next few days he’s training harder than he ever has before. He can tell Hanbin’s not used to it.

“Don’t stoop down to his level, you play clean and unattached. Got it?”

Gunwook doesn’t bite back. “Got it.”

Kim’s strong point is his punching power. He’s not as skilled technically as Ricky is, but he’s got fists made of “iron” apparently. Gunwook decides to not spend a whole lot of time looking at his videos to study. He’s ready to take whatever Gyuvin wants to throw his way. If a clash of egos is what he wants, that’s what he’ll give him. 

They’ll see who comes out on top. 

__________________

“So this fight with Gyuvin is pretty serious huh?” Matthew says from behind him. Gunwook stops punching at his bag and breathes out. Undoing the strap on his gloves and sliding them off. He never really trains in the apartment, has the set up but prefers the gym. Matthew notices.

“He came into the gym and tried to start a fight with me out of nowhere. Who even does that?” A lot of people apparently, but Gunwook still can’t get over it. 

“You’ll teach him a lesson. I know you will,” Matthew beams. It doesn’t even sound intimidating coming from him—he sounds like a saint.

The comment however does make Gunwook’s stomach do a flip. Fuck. He should go back to ignoring Matthew. He can’t though, this will be Matthew’s first ever fight as a part of their little team. It’ll be good to have someone that’s not Hanbin to patch him up immediately. 

Gunwook laughs slightly, more out of distress than humor before he gets an idea.

He turns to him. “Hey Matt, help me train. It’ll be fun.” Matthew’s eyes widen. 

“Train…how?” He looks scared shitless at the suggestion, like Gunwook just challenged him to a duel.

It was a bad idea, but Gunwook didn’t run through all of the possibilities of what could go wrong, forgive him. 

It started like this. 

“You’ll just keep these on, and I’ll just throw punches at them,” Gunwook explains, sliding the punch mitts on Matthew’s hands.

He looked up at Gunwook wearily. Looked so out of place with them on, along with his attire: a huge hoodie and shorts. Gunwook bites back a smile.

Matthew holds his hands up in front of his face to observe them. “Uh, don’t you think this is a bad idea?”

“Why not?”

“I’m not trained on how to train you.”

That’s true. But Gunwook doesn’t care, it’s not like he’d go full out on him. 

When Matthew is still against it, Gunwook full on pouts, he doesn't know why, it just happens by instinct. Hao tells him he’s cute when he does it so maybe it’ll work on Matthew.

“Don’t you wanna help me train?”

Matthew observes his face before blinking a few times. “Of course, I mean-yeah. Yeah, I do.” Matthew straightens his posture and holds his hands up in front of him. Gunwook straps his gloves back on and bends his knees.  

“Good. Now stand there and look pretty.”

For a while, it’s fun. Gunwook throws a few pretend punches to get Matthew used to blocking.

He does get a kick out of how Matthew seems completely taken aback at the impact of his gloves against the mitts. He eventually gets used to it, laughing a couple of times at the jokes Gunwook makes to ease his worries. 

And Gunwook can’t help but think it’s kind of endearing how Matthew is really trying to get into the role of a trainer just for him. 

“Maybe we can box forreal one day. I’ll get you a pair of gloves and everything.”

Matthew makes a face. “Yeah, no. You’d probably give me a concussion.” Everyone and concussions these days.

“Oh c’mon have some confidence, you’ve already got the body for it. All you need to do is practice.”

And he really does. Gunwook caught him shirtless one time when he walked out of the bathroom. 

Matthew’s definitely the kind of guy who goes to gym and lifts like 200 pounds. Gunwook can't even do that—well he probably could, just doesn’t prefer to. Maybe physical therapists are all freaks about staying in shape. 

The comment about his body seems to mean something to Matthew based on the way he looks shy all of sudden. Gunwook’s not sure why, he should be proud of that.

Then he realizes he just admitted that he's been looking at Matthew’s body. Whatever, it’s hard to not notice. 

Anyway, Gunwook gets kind of carried away throwing jabs at the mitts, completely forgets who's blocking his shots and accidentally punches Matthew right in the mouth. 

“Oh shit- oh shit! Oh shit—are you okay?” He says frantically. Fuck. He sees blood—okay. Not okay.

Matthew brings his hand up to his mouth to touch his bottom lip, and stares at his now red finger. 

Accidents happen all the time of course, but this one actually makes Gunwook feel really bad. Matthew had even given him a warning about something like this happening—Gunwook didn’t listen. 

So, he’s not really thinking much when he’s grabbing Matthew’s wrist and dragging him to the bathroom.

Fuck, he busted the fuck out of Matthew’s lip. He’s reminded again when he’s staring at his face in the bright lighting of his bathroom.

Just going off of what he would do if it was him, he tears off a paper towel and runs some hot water on it before turning back to Matthew. 

“You know I could just fix this myself, I do have a degree in it,” he says. And Gunwook does feel a little relieved that he doesn’t sound completely irritated with him. Hanbin would kick his ass if he found out he did this to Matthew. 

If anything, he’s more calm than Gunwook is.

“No,” Gunwook says immediately, Matthew looks surprised. “I did it, I'll fix it.”

He presses the damp towel to the cut on Matthew’s lip even though he's sure it’s not really doing shit. Gunwook brings his hand up to tilt Matthew’s head back slightly, removing the towel for a second and putting it back. 

“Ugh, it keeps bleeding,” Gunwook says after a few seconds.

Matthew chuckles, pushing against Gunwook’s stomach to move back from him. “It’s fine, I'll deal with it.” He turns away, digging in the drawer for something before turning to the mirror. 

But Gunwook’s never been the one to give up on something, so he grabs the neosporin Matthew pulls out right from his hand. 

“Gunwook,” Matthew argues.

“Matthew,” he mimics back. 

Gunwook raises his hand when Matthew tries to grab it from him so it’s out of reach. “Just…let me do something for you, shit.” 

That seems to make Matthew throw in the towel, mostly because he knows by now that Gunwook is as stubborn as a bull. 

He tells him to just use a cotton swab to dab some of the ointment over the cut and he should be okay. Gunwook thinks that’s easy enough. He can do that without fucking up. 

“Can you sit on the counter?” He asks.

“Counter?”

“Yeah you’re kind of short, I either have to bend down or break your neck. I’m sure that it's not comfortable for you to look up like this.”

“Do you ever stop with that?” Matthew asks, but does hoist himself up on the counter easily.

Gunwook raises his eyebrows. “With what?”

“All you do is comment on my height or body,” Matthew grumbles. Gunwook steps into the V of his legs and nudges his chin up. 

“Just take it as a compliment. I could be calling you ugly.” Gunwook swipes the cotton swab against the opening of the tube before dabbing it onto the cut.

Because he gets too focused, he doesn’t even realize how his hand has found its way to Matthew’s thigh, using it as some sort of object to keep him steady.

Matthew makes a noise after a few seconds that catches his attention; then he realizes that he’s putting pressure down against his thigh because of how he’s leaning into him. Matthew squirms. Gunwook looks down and removes his hand as quickly as he can. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Matthew says.

It’s only when he looks back up that he realizes how close they really are. Matthew’s skin is smooth and spotless up close. Without his glasses he looks so young—his eyes are huge and his eyelashes brush against his cheeks when he blinks. Gunwook stares at his parted pink lips, and mentally runs from the thought that sneaks into his mind of how soft they must be.

Matthew just stares back at him, cutely. Then he remembers that Matthew finds him hot. Fuck. This is torture.

Gunwook dabs his bottom lip one more time before pulling away completely. 

“All done. I'll find something frozen for you to put on your face,” he says, turning around on his heels to leave before Matthew can say anything else. 

__________________

Friday night rolls around eventually. Gunwook’s jumping around more than he probably should—screw it, he won’t deny it. He’s pumped up for this bout and he’s ready to issue a knockout no matter the cost.

Hanbin reminds him for the 50th time to not get a foul because ‘shit’s not gonna fly’ as easy as it used to. Gunwook brushes him off. He’ll play clean—or, at least he’ll try. 

After months of physical therapy, Gunwook can say he does feel better about his physical state. Nothings holding him back. Thanks to Matthew. 

Speaking of Matthew, Gunwook realizes that he’s staying by the door when they’re on their way out of the dressing room. 

“Wook let’s go,” Hanbin calls out. 

He waves his hand back at him. “I’ll meet you at the entrance, go on.” Hanbin looks between him and Matthew before nodding and pulling Hao down the hallway. 

Matthew opens his mouth to speak but Gunwook beats him to it. 

“Why aren’t you coming to the ring?” 

Most medics sit nearby in case anything crazy happens. Even though Matthew's not exactly his medic, they have emergency ones out there on standby. But, as his therapist, he should be there. Right? 

Matthew stares up at him with an unreadable look in his eyes. “I’ll still be here. I’ll just watch through the TV.”

“Important people to the boxer sit in their section.”

“Important?”

Shit. That kind of slipped out. Gunwook bites into the flesh of his bottom lip, hard. 

“Yes, important. You are important to me,” he forces out. 

Matthew stays still, unmoving, and more importantly looking like he’s not going to any time soon. Gunwook hates it, he wants Matthew to see him fight up close. 

“Matt,” Gunwook says softer. He’s reaching Matthew’s wrist before he can stop himself, curling his fingers around it and pulling on him. 

“I,” Matthew starts. He’s hesitating. Gunwook stares straight back at him, trying to take him apart and dive into his brain to see what he’s thinking. 

“Don’t want to watch you get hurt.” 

Right now, Gunwook’s not sure what that really means to him. Matthew cares about his well being that much? He should know by now that Gunwook signed up to get hurt. Getting hurt is a part of his career. He wants to tell him that, and tell him to get over it.

“I’m not going to lose,” he offers instead.

“I know you won’t. But you still have to take some punches.”

Matthew glances down at Gunwook’s hand around his wrist and Gunwook immediately lets go of it, trying not to show the disappointment on his face.

“Fine.”

He says goodbye to Matthew before chucking his hood over his head. 

__________________

The fight with Gyuvin was short and sweet. Gunwook went in there with determination only he had and knocked him out easily. Guy’s like Kim are just all talk and no action, even if he does hit hard, he’s gotta actually land the punches.

Gunwook hopes he enjoys his matching concussion with Shen’s. They can live happily ever after. 

“I think the association might choose you as a mandatory fighter soon,” Hanbin says. They’re in a bar for celebration even though Gunwook told him he can’t even drink legally here. Hanbin didn’t care, he just wanted to get drunk with Hao and probably go do something crazy. Not his business. 

“What’s that?” Gunwook says.

Hao pokes his head out from behind Hanbin. “Mandatory challenger is when you fight for a title!” Getting into a title fight would be huge. Especially for him at his age.

“Walking dictionary right here,” Hanbin snickers before taking a sip of his whiskey. Gunwook’s face scrunches up. Gross. Hanbin’s always liked hard stuff. 

“Oh wow that’s so cool!” Matthew says excitedly from behind him. He got something fruity, Gunwook can’t remember what. It’s a blue drink that has a little umbrella in it. 

Gunwook turns on his stool to face him, resting his arm against the bar, fingers grazing Matthew’s when he does.

“Sit in the ring at my next fight,” Gunwook says, boldly, hoping it seems like there’s no room for argument. Matthew smiles goofily back at him in a way he’s never seen him do before. He must be a lightweight. 

“Just close your eyes if you see me get hit.”

He takes another sip of his drink. “But I’ll hear it.”

“But you won’t see it.”

“Still just as bad.”

Gunwook pinches his arm playfully, making Matthew wobble his drink in his hold. He laughs. 

“Be there.”

“Fine,” he says sitting down his drink. “Just because I’m so important to you.” Matthew does some sort of sorry impression of him from earlier today. Gunwook does not sound like that. He should practice. 

“You are important to me. I wouldn’t even be able to fight at my best without you,” Gunwook confesses, stroking the back of his fingers across the expanse of Matthew’s arm, watching the way goosebumps form.

And he really probably shouldn’t be touching him like this but he does it anyway, because he wants to. 

Matthew shivers slightly, drinking the rest of whatever he has before he asks the bartender for another. 

“Am I important to you?” Gunwook pushes, resting his hand against Matthew’s arm now.

It’s kind of bad, he knows, to take advantage of Matthew’s tipsy state to get him to cough up the truth. But Gunwook wants it. He just hopes he doesn’t sound that desperate. He searches Matthew’s face waiting for the answer. Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.

Matthew looks at him, eyes softening. “Of course you are.”

Gunwook smiles, accomplished. “Good.”

__________________

Hanbin, Hao, and Matthew all end up getting wasted. Hao’s the one that can handle his alcohol the most so thankfully, he can hold Hanbin up so Gunwook doesn’t have to. He grabs them a taxi and sends them off. 

Hanbin hangs out of the window blubbering something about how he’s proud of Gunwook and everything. Gunwook laughs and waves them goodbye. 

Matthew is definitely on the verge of passing out. He’s got his arms wrapped around Gunwook’s waist and his face stuffed in his chest. He keeps saying random things about Gunwook being “too tall” and saying that his hands are “too big” and that the size of his own hands are “just fine.” Guess he’s still holding onto that. Gunwook should apologize one day.

Gunwook sighs out, wrapping his arms around Matthew's shoulders and holding him tighter. Just because he’s scared he’ll wander off if he doesn’t. That’s definitely the only reason why. He’ll admit that he feels nice against him like this. Gunwook looks down at his blonde head of hair and the way his cheek is pressed against the spot below his collarbone.

As expected, Matthew falls asleep in the taxi ride home. With his head against Gunwook’s shoulder and his hand on his thigh.

Gunwook feels his heart rabbit in his chest, wishing that Matthew didn’t have the effects on him that he does.

He grabs Matthew’s hand as softly as he can and puts it back into his own lap. 

__________________

As of right now, Kim Jiwoong holds the championship title for Lightweight division boxing. He has for five years straight—undefeated. It’s not an easy task to be undefeated let alone, undefeated and a title holder. 

How it works is that the association will evaluate boxers with potential and good records, then give them an opportunity to compete for the title belt.

Kim Jiwoong preserves the right to decline a fight against any boxer, the choice will always be his. 

For some reason, he’s agreed to let Gunwook be his mandatory challenger.

Kim Jiwoong has the look of a champion. He’s handsome for a boxer, not many abnormalities on his face either from prior injuries. He’s at the top of the Pound for pound list with a hellish 78 wins on his record. There’s only one defeat on his record from an older guy who doesn’t even box anymore.

“Listen kid,” Hanbin says, hardening his grip on Gunwook’s shoulders. 

“He has 15 years of experience over you. This guy is no joke.”

This fight in particular, is really important to Hanbin.

Kim Jiwoong is the last person Hanbin ever fought during his professional career. He’s the one Hanbin broke his wrist on. 

He’s the one that made Hanbin never go back. 

What Gunwook should feel right now is fear. If Hanbin couldn’t even beat him, then how could he? Hanbin made Park Gunwook. But, he’s excited. Filled to the brim with ambition to avenge his coach. Maybe he can relate to how Gyuvin felt about Ricky finally.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah.”

“No you’re not,” Hanbin says, letting him go to grab his water bottle.

Gunwook sits on the ground and leans back on his hands and bends his knees up. They’ve been going over plays for the entire day. He can already tell he’s getting himself into the worst training period to date.

Hanbin grabs the ipad and sits it in his lap. “The good thing is that since I’ve fought him before, my advice will benefit you.”

“Won’t make it easier?”

“Nothing’s fuckin’ easy,” Hanbin laughs.

They spend the next few weeks watching Jiwoong’s past fights. He fights hard and settles for nothing less than a knock out that you don’t get back up from. Kind of like Gunwook in a way. A guy that fought him said he experienced episodes of shock ever since he knocked him out. The more and more they watch, the more it seems like Gunwook’s scheduled a death date. 

“You can beat him,” Hanbin says two weeks before the match, like it’s the only thing he knows for sure. 

“You think so?”

“He’s aging, he’s not as built for it as he was during his prime.”

Jiwoong’s in his late 30s. For boxing your prime is when you’re young—early to mid twenties. 

“You know how to adapt. That’s what makes you special.”

They’ve agreed on a tactic where Gunwook would fight just like Jiwoong does, just with his own edge. Gunwook already has height and a longer reach over him. All he has to do to close the gap is to win. 

Matthew seems on edge about the whole thing. Probably because he walked in on them watching Jiwoong’s old tapes and pointed at the screen with a mortified expression. 

“That’s who you’re fighting?”

Jiwoong just knocked a guy out. The audience cheers flow through the television speaker and fill the room. Hanbin turns the volume down.

Gunwook leans back against the couch. “What? Don’t believe in me?”

“Of course I do,” Matthew responds back immediately. Gunwook is thankful it’s dark enough that his cheeks heating up isn’t that visible.

“Then don’t worry about it.”

Matthew has a hard time not worrying about it though. Gunwook wants to tell him to cut it out because the more he does—the more Gunwook has to face his feelings about Matthew worrying about it. 

The night before the big match, Matthew catches him in the hallway. 

“About to go to bed?” Gunwook asks. Matthew nods, stretching out his arms while yawning. 

“Goodnight then,” he says, getting ready to walk off but before he can get out of reach, Matthew pulls him back by the arm. 

“Gunwook.” The way he says his name sounds on edge. He doesn’t meet Gunwook’s eyes. He stares at the ground instead and balls his fists into the material at the bottom of Gunwook’s t-shirt, as if he’s afraid he’s going to disappear. 

“Be careful tomorrow,” he says quietly, even though nobody else would be able to hear him even if he shouted. It feels like a secret, something he didn’t even want to share.

Gunwook grabs his wrists and holds onto them tight—lifting Matthew’s hands to make him look at him. His eyes still shine despite the darkness and worry that absorbs them. Gunwook can make out the curve of every feature on his face through the shadows.

He wants to reach out and trace along the side of his jaw, let his thumb press into the flesh of cheek. He wants to tell him that everything will be okay. But it’s not something he can guarantee. All he can give Matthew is the promise that he’ll be careful.

“I will. Make sure you’re in my section.”

__________________

“This bout is scheduled for 12 rounds and a title is at stake.”

Gunwook bounces on his feet to get his blood pumping. Hanbin is saying a lot of things but like always, Gunwook is drowning him out.

All he can focus on is the crazy smile Jiwoong keeps sending him from across the ring. Guy won’t stop staring at him and Bin. Guess he shouldn’t have expected anything less. 

They’ve been preparing for this fight for months and it’s finally time. 

“Gunwook,” Hanbin says, snapping him out of his thoughts. Gunwook stops jumping in place and turns to him. 

“Hit him with everything you got? Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Hanbin smacks his gloves and turns him around to the center of the ring. On the way, Gunwook catches Matthew’s eye. He’s sitting next to Hao. Matthew waves excitedly at him, jumping out of his seat so much that Hao coerces him back down. Gunwook raises his glove at him. 

The referee does the usual run down. Jiwoong throws him off though when he talks right after he’s finished.

“You’re just like Sung.”

Gunwook doesn’t say anything back. They touch gloves and go back to their corners. 

The fight has been labeled Fight of the Year even though it hasn’t happened yet.

Gunwook’s seen his face on more posters than he can even count. Some even being drawings that strangely do look like him.

This is the largest arena he’s ever fought in before—sure it holds thousands of people. The turn out was absolutely insane according to Matthew and the way he couldn’t stop gasping over it all. 

The first bell rings. Gunwook and Jiwoong meet in the middle. 

He’s much like Ricky in the sense that he likes to talk. Gyuvin didn’t talk at all, started punching as soon as they got started. 

“Just like Sung,” Jiwoong says like he’s amazed. He sounds like a broken record. 

Gunwook throws a combo at him, landing a light shot on his face. The crowd yells. 

“Punch as hard as him too.”

“You gonna keep talking?” Gunwook responds, ducking down fast when Jiwoong swings at him. He backs up a little. 

“Talkin’s fun.” Jiwoong quickly throws two body shots at him, and man do they hurt. But it’s nothing Gunwook’s not taken before. In fact, he expected it to be a little harder. Hanbin’s right, Jiwoong is worn down. 

The first four rounds end before he knows it. Gunwook can admit that he’s not pressuring him as much as he needs to. He grits his teeth and hardens his face. 

“You wanna know what I think?” He doesn’t. Jiwoong keeps talking, he wonders if he’ll ever shut up like Ricky did eventually. 

Gunwook doesn’t respond, he throws a jab instead, Jiwoong blocks it. 

“I think you're just a street rat,” he spits. 

“Surprised I can tell huh? Dirty fighting like that is no good in the boxing world.”

Jiwoong’s trying to rile him up. Gunwook knows because it’s the exact thing Hanbin told him he’d do, but he thought it’d be maybe jabs at his appearance or something about his dead mom, not this. 

Gunwook who’s been running from his past for four years now, unfortunately does take the bait. He punches Jiwoong straight in the gut when he’s open, making him crouch over slightly, but not fall. 

“Fuck do you know about me?”

“So I’m right? Figures.” Jiwoong gets a jab at his face, Gunwook knows that’s going to make his eye swell later. 

The referee tells them to break. 

Gunwook says nothing and doesn’t hear what Hanbin says on the ten count. He just lets him pour water over his face and goes back to the middle. 

“You fight just like Sung too.”

“He is my coach.”

“I can tell, you’re making the same mistakes he did.”

Jiwoong goes into a relentless swarm of punches suddenly, Gunwook’s cornered against the ropes dodging them as best as he can. His first instinct is to pull him into a lock so that the referee comes and separates them. 

He’s successful at that at least. Jiwoong mumbles something about how he’s smart. 

Gunwook huffs out when he gets back to his corner. He feels like smacking himself in the head, he needs to adapt, he needs to do fucking anything to get the best of Jiwoong. Right now every feint he puts up are dead ends, every single one of them. Jiwoong has read him just like Gunwook has read him. 

Fuck it. He’ll go apeshit. 

Seventh round starts with a boom, Gunwook knocks Jiwoong straight in the jaw which makes him fall to the ground.

Gunwook thinks for a second that maybe he’s done it. But of course, it can’t be that easy. The referee is counting down to ten; Jiwoong gets back up on three. 

“What’s next you gonna pull a knife on me?”

Gunwook honestly wishes he had one. Even though he’s never even fought with knives before. Jiwoong’s read on him is all wrong. 

“Maybe,” Gunwook bites back. Jiwoong laughs in return. 

Apparently that punch really pissed him off with the way he starts pounding on Gunwook again. And these ones sting. Gunwook decides to punch back instead of blocking, giving up fighting tactically and just going for it. Jiwoong’s face annoys the shit out of him now.

Gunwook likes to think that no matter how hard he trained, studied, or strategized—that his fate would be the same. It makes him feel better to think that there was nothing he could’ve done to stop the lowest moment of his professional career thus far. 

Jiwoong moves faster than he can keep up with for the first time of the night, shooting for Gunwook’s face but knocking against his shoulder instead. 

Gunwook suddenly feels the worst pain he ever has before in his entire life surge through him.

He’s lost control over his body. There’s no way to come back from this—he realizes it quickly—that this will be his first loss.

Jiwoong deals the last fatal blow to his stomach as he falls to his knees. The referee blows his whistle and then he’s lying back first on the mat. 

Jiwoong dislocated his fucking shoulder. 

“Gunwook, stay with us.” He hears Hanbin say after a while. But it all sounds muffled and his vision is blurred by the bright headlights above them. 

Suddenly he feels 14 all over again. Laying back first on a concrete floor instead of a mat. His heart is thumping wildly through his chest like someone is beating against a drum set with intention to destroy it completely. Funnily enough all he thinks in that moment is about all the times he fought in the underground and how they were easier than this. A cut to the side, a broken nose, a sprained wrist. Those were all better than this. 

Only because back then, he had nothing to lose. 

Gunwook closes his eyes under the blinding lights, eventually falling unconscious. 

__________________

It’s funny how it only takes a few seconds to break something, but so long to fix it. 

A glass cup shattering against the ground could be fixed, it would just take hours, maybe even days to do so. A flat tire, it can be filled with air again, patched back up, but it’ll never be the same as a brand new tire. Getting into an argument with someone. Words can be fatal enough to break a relationship. Taking the time to fix what you said in the heat of the moment could take an entire lifetime.

In what’s now known as The Biggest Boxing Upset This Decade, Gunwook lost by a knockout. His first ever. 

Kim Jiwoong dislocated his shoulder and he had to be taken to the hospital for them to put it back into place. 

He woke up to a room that was too white and smelt too clean. The usual silence of his apartment was replaced with the beeping noise of a few machines. He never thought that his first time in a hospital bed would be when he’s nearing 20 years old. 

Hanbin didn’t come to see him in the hospital. Gunwook could already piece together why. Hao tells him that ‘he needs time’ and that ‘he’s taking it hard.’ Gunwook gets it, but it still makes him feel like shit. He let him down. He lost to the same guy Hanbin did 7 years ago. Also leaving with an injury. 

Matthew is the one who comes to take him back to the apartment. He kept looking like he wanted to say something the entire time, and usually Gunwook would’ve gotten it out of him. That was how comfortable they’ve gotten with each other. But with his arm in that sling, he didn’t really want to talk to anybody. All he wanted to do was go to sleep.

Matthew insisted on carrying all of his stuff for him so Gunwook let him. The first thing he did when he got into his apartment was walk to his room, and lay in his bed for the first time in seven days. 

But, he didn’t fall asleep like wanted to. He was just staring at his ceiling and thinking about what Hanbin could be doing and what he would say to him. 

“Gunwook.” 

He turned his head slightly over towards the door. Matthew was peeking out from behind it. He thinks that actually might have been the first time Matthew’s ever been in his room.

Not like he wasn’t ever welcomed, it just never happened. Never had a reason to do it before. 

Gunwook didn’t really know what he expected him to say or do—just laid there watching him move through the dark.

Matthew sat down on the edge of his bed next to his body, observing his state. And Gunwook’s state probably looked real pathetic and sorry at the time. He almost felt like laughing out of distress. 

Matthew fiddled with his hands in his lap. “I feel like I jinxed it,” he said. “I told you not to get hurt and you did get hurt.” 

Gunwook closed his eyes. “The last thing I wanna do is sit here and listen to you blame yourself. What happened, happened.” That’s the motto of his boxing.

Matthew didn’t listen to him though, continuing to talk. “We sat in the emergency room for hours,” Matthew’s voice wavered.

“I—I couldn’t stop looking over at Hanbin, he looked like…”

“Like he really wanted to fuckin’ die huh?” Gunwook finished for him.

Matthew breathed out. Like he almost wanted to laugh at that but knew he shouldn’t. “Stop.”

“If you came in here to throw me a pity party you can keep it and leave.” He already felt sorry enough for himself, he didn’t need anymore.

“I didn’t.”

“Then stay.” Gunwook tugged on his sleeve with his free hand as best as he could. Matthew seemed to understand what he wanted and climbed underneath the covers with him. Gunwook could hear the gears in his head turning as settled on how to lay next to him. 

If Gunwook was bold enough and not running from his feelings, he would’ve pulled Matthew into his side. Let his head rest in the crook of his neck. But he said and did nothing. 

It was fine, just as long as he was there. 

“Did you close your eyes?” Gunwook asked after a few minutes.

Matthew turned on his side to stare at him. “No, I saw it all.”

For some reason, that made Gunwook feel horrible. 

“I’m sorry, Matt.”

“Why?”

“Just am.”

__________________

The good news was that he didn’t have to wear the sling for the entire recovery, only for four days, and oh, did he happily take it off on the fourth. He just has to take it easy and pretty much, do nothing.

Six months. That’s how long the recommended recovery period is for his state. If he boxes again before that, his shoulder might give out on him.

Matthew’s been much more attentive than he ever was before—checking on him every single second to make sure he’s okay. It should be kind of annoying but Gunwook would be a liar if he said he didn’t like the extra attention, especially from him. 

Matthew pretty much does everything for him. Making (ordering) food, making his bed, shit he’d probably dress him if he asked him to. Not that, he’s thought about that or anything. 

“Remember when you first moved in and didn’t know how to work anything,” Gunwook says watching Matthew run the bath water. He said it’d help him not be so stiff and ease the swelling. 

Matthew laughs. “Yeah, there’s still some stuff I barely know how to work.”

“So where were you living before this?” 

“Just residential housing on campus. My major has to.” Matthew walks over to him until he’s standing right in front of him. 

“Up.”

Gunwook stares down at him, puzzled. “Up?”

“Your shirt,” Matthew says gesturing for him to lift his arms slightly so he can get it off of him. Recently he’s just been wearing tank tops that can stretch far enough so he can just slide it down his waist instead of pulling it over his head. Today he’s in a regular t-shirt though. He didn’t think about that.

“Uh, I can do it myself, you don’t have to.”

“You’ll have to bend your arm though, you can’t do that.”

He’s right, but Gunwook is getting that weird feeling in his stomach again. And if Matthew touches him, he might freak out.

“I can do it with one arm,” He says making an attempt to but Matthew grabs him and pushes it back down.

By then, Gunwook knows he can’t get out of this.

He doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed, he fights in front of thousands of people with his shirt off. 

It’s just because it’s Matthew. 

“If you have bend down to do something then I should do it for you instead. I’m your physical therapist,” Matthew responds. He pulls up the material of his shirt and bunches it up at his armpits while he tries to get the first arm out. Gunwook is trying to ignore the way Matthew’s palms are pressed against his nipples—praying to god he doesn’t notice how they immediately harden up under his touch. Gunwook just has to stand there and oblige. 

After a torturous few seconds of that, Matthew goes to reach at his waistband.Gunwook jolts back from him. “Matt—Matthew! I can do that myself, I promise.” God. Gunwook already knows his face is completely red by now. Matthew raises his eyebrows.

Gunwook chokes over his own words. “It’s okay, I can do the rest. I don't even have to bend down. See? They’re loose.”

Matthew rolls his eyes. “What if you fall and bust your ass?”

Gunwook gives him a look, because why would that even happen? “Then I’ll yell for you to come help. That’s why you’re here. Thank you!” He turns Matthew around by his shoulders and pushes him towards the door. 

“You know I help old people all the time, you’re making it weird.” Yeah, well Gunwook isn’t old and suffering from dementia. And he’s definitely not immune to getting turned on by the littlest things. 

“I’m sure they appreciated you.”

Matthew laughs, but does leave finally. Gunwook lets out a sigh of relief, staring down at his shorts before pulling at the drawstring to let them fall down his legs. 

He closes his eyes and tries to think of anything else to avoid getting hard. If he wanted to, he really could just jack it real quick, but he knows Matthew is probably sitting in his bedroom listening for any sounds of him slipping or falling or busting his ass—whatever. So he doesn’t. He’ll survive with a cold shower.

__________________

It takes Hanbin two weeks to come and see Gunwook. 

He wakes up to a hand caressing the side of his cheek, cold against his warm skin. At first when he opens his eyes it almost feels like a dream state. 

Gunwook reaches up to touch the hand on his face, blinking the sleep away. 

“Bin.”

“Hey kid.”

That’s how they end up on Gunwook’s balcony, staring out at a city that’s yet to be awakened yet under the dark sky. It’s cold out since it’s morning time, Gunwook regrets not grabbing a jacket before coming out here. 

Hanbin doesn’t speak for a while. He holds his coffee mug in his hand and stares off into the distance. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after a while. “For not coming sooner.”

“It’s alright.” Because it is. Gunwook knew he would eventually. 

“Seeing you like that really fucked with me. Got reminded of how it was for me.” He laughs out suddenly, but it sounds like he’s masking the heaviness in his tone. 

Nobody knows the things Sung Hanbin has been carrying with him for years. He broke his wrist in the span of ten seconds, got it to work again, but it still isn’t the same. 

It could take a lifetime for him to finally fix it. 

“Gunwook,” he says, turning to him. 

“I don’t want you to be like me, okay?”

Gunwook realizes that this entire time, ever since he was 14, he’s been comparing himself to Hanbin. He’s modeled himself right after him, following in the same footsteps.

“Promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” Gunwook says.

“You’ll go back after you heal. You won’t let an injury like this hang over you for the rest of your life,” Hanbin says, grabbing his uninjured shoulder. His voice sounds tight, constricted, like he might cry at any second. 

“You’ll try again-”

Gunwook cuts him off. “Until I win.”

Hanbin smiles softly. Gunwook watches the small tear run down his cheekbone. He wants to reach forward and brush it away.

Hanbin’s not a sap, Hao is. But tears make a fighter. Hanbin will always be a fighter, just like Gunwook.

__________________

Time passes like it always does. The flowers are starting to bloom again as they brush off the last few memories of winter. Gunwook’s shoulder is better, but he still can’t do much. Matthew just makes sure that he’s still moving. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t even know,” Hao says as they walk towards the entrance of the store. His freshly dyed blonde hair blows in the wind.

What he’s referring to is Gunwook’s lack of knowledge about Matthew’s birthday. 

“We just never asked each other about that. I don’t know.”

They’re planning a surprise party because Matthew loves surprises. Gunwook smiles to himself at the thought of how easily shocked he probably will be when he walks into this whole thing in a few days. 

Hao’s the one planning it really. Hanbin opted out of it because he said he doesn’t ‘know shit about decorating’ and that he’d deal with the food.

Gunwook is here to aid in figuring out stuff that Matthew likes but Hao’s already rendered him useless. He’ll just carry stuff back to the apartment. 

“Oh,” Gunwook says, stopping before a record player. “He really likes music, and vintage stuff. I’ll get him this.” Gunwook decides easily that this is the perfect gift for Matthew. 

“That’s the first thing I’ve heard you sound sure of,” Hao says.

Gunwook laughs and grabs a box underneath the display and hauls it into the basket. 

“He’s always telling me about the songs he likes. It’s a good gift right?” 

When Hao doesn’t reply Gunwook looks up to meet his gaze. He has the look again, like he’s gonna ask Gunwook something he doesn’t know the answer to.

“…Do you-”

“Stop,” Gunwook cuts him off. He already knows what’s coming. 

“I mean I meant to ask you like seven months ago when I noticed something off about you but,” Hao grins, before poking his fingers into Gunwook’s sides. 

“Your ears are red. You do.”

“Hao,” Gunwook groans. Hao ignores him, pulling out his phone instead and motioning them to keep walking.

“I’m telling Hanbin.”

Gunwook full on jerks, stopping in his tracks. “What? No!”

Hao side eyes him, like it’s not that serious. “Why? He won’t tell Matthew or anything.”

Gunwook grinds his teeth together. He doesn’t even know how it’d look if Hanbin knew he had a crush on his therapist. It’s unprofessional. Right? 

“See,” Hao says, stopping to push his phone into Gunwook’s hand. On the screen it’s a conversation between him and Hanbin. 

Gunwook loves Matthew!!!!  

That’s cute. It’s about time. 

Gunwook shoves the phone back at him and mentally face palms. He did not say anything about love. Now Hao is planning their wedding. Hao sticks his phone back in his pocket and hooks his arm around Gunwook’s. “Jokes aside, it’s cute. I think you deserve someone nice like Matthew.” 

Gunwook hopes he does.

“I don’t even know if he feels the same way.”

Matthew called him hot once like a year ago, but it wasn’t even to Gunwook’s face.

Hao smiles at him like he knows something he doesn’t. But he doesn’t say anything, of course. Because why would anything ever be easy. Nothing’s fucking easy.

“Let’s go to the decoration aisle.”

__________________

Like he thought, Matthew’s surprise really does shock him. 

Hanbin managed to get him out of the apartment by tricking him on how he needed physical therapy advice on his wrist.

While they were gone, all Hao did was nag Gunwook’s ear off about putting up decorations the right way when he was ‘doing it wrong.’And it really does feel silly, when the two of them are crouched behind a couch in the dark. Hao keeps giggling and telling him to shut up whenever he hears the elevator outside ring, even when it’s not them.

It was all worth it. Matthew looked the happiest he had ever seen him before when they all sang happy birthday to him.

“You got me a gift?” Matthew says with wide eyes, Gunwook pushes it into his hands when he still doesn’t take it. 

“C’mon. Open it.”

Thanks to Hao it was wrapped rather nicely. If Gunwook had tried, it would’ve looked like dog shit. Gunwook smiles watching Matthew tear open the paper, not even trying to take it off carefully.

“A record player?” He gasps. “Aren’t these expensive?” They are, but it’s not like that matters. 

Gunwook waves his hands. “Don’t worry about that. Tell me you like it.”

Matthew sits the box down on the table nearby before turning back to him. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He expects for that to maybe be the end of it. Hanbin and Hao left an hour ago and the celebration is pretty much over now. Gunwook will clean up and make sure Matthew doesn’t attempt to help because it’s his birthday privilege. They’ll go their separate ways for the rest of the night and fall asleep. Just like any other day. That’s what will happen. 

But Matthew doesn’t move from his position in front of him and because he doesn’t, neither does Gunwook.

The voice inside him is banging on the doors, shouting at him to say something, anything. Let Matthew know that he likes him more than he can even explain in words. 

“I heard something, one day.”

Matthew cocks his head. “What’d you hear?”

“You were talking to someone on the phone.”

“Eavesdropping on me now?”

Gunwook scoffs before pointing a finger at him. “ You had your door open.”

Matthew squints. “Yeah anyway, what’d you hear me say?” And he kind of looks nervous at what Gunwook is about to bring up. It makes him wonder how many times Matthew has talked about him on the phone to someone else. 

“You said I’m not as nice as you thought I’d be.” It’s probably better to not bring up the "he’s hot" part. 

“What was that? Nearly a year ago?” Matthew laughs and Gunwook wishes his smile would remain on his face forever. So bright and welcoming. It’s exactly the way he looked the first day they met. 

“Yeah so? You still said it.”

“And you’ve been holding onto that all this time? Why are you bringing it up now?” Gunwook doesn’t really know what he’s even trying to accomplish. It was like jumping in without a lifejacket.

“I just wanted to know if you’re still scared of me.”

Matthew gives him a look. “You knock people out for a living, shouldn’t everyone be scared?”

Gunwook doesn’t really know how to answer that question and it doesn’t matter because he’s too focused on the way Matthew keeps getting closer to him. He takes a step back, knocking against the same padded table he’s laid on all those times before with Matthew hovering over him. 

“I guess,” Gunwook says shakily. Matthew smiles up at him, caging him in against the table.

“I don’t think,” Matthew starts. If Gunwook wanted to, he could close the distance between them right now. Press his lips against Matthew’s and mold their mouths together like he’s wanted to for so long. He wonders if Matthew would kiss him hard, bite his tongue, dig his teeth into Gunwook’s bottom lip. Wrap his hands around his neck and hold him down. Gunwook realizes then, how much he really wants it.

“You’re as scary as you seem.” 

Matthew leans forward to run his nose against Gunwook’s neck, near the underside of his jaw. Gunwook feels his entire body lock up at the contact. 

“I’m not,” he forces out. Matthew pulls back and presses his chest against his. Surely, he can feel how sporadic Gunwook’s heartbeat is against him. His hands snake around his waist to pull him closer, palm resting against the curve of his lower back. 

The kiss that Matthew gives him is not hard, but it still feels like a punch to the gut anyway. It’s gentle, too gentle—careful. Like a confession and Matthew’s afraid of getting rejected. 

Gunwook wants to let him know that he’d never reject him. So he brings his hands up to frame Matthew’s face, unhesitatingly, pressing his thumbs into his cheeks. Gunwook kisses him this time, opening his lips against Matthew’s as he drags his tongue over his bottom lip. Matthew lets out a small noise at the intrusion. His hands grabbing at Gunwook’s waist. 

He wishes he could kiss Matthew forever, let there be no end to it. And he’s pretty dead set on that happening until they get to his bedroom. Matthew must have walked them in that direction because Gunwook doesn’t remember a second of it happening. 

What feels just as rough as a left hook to the side is the way Matthew undresses him. Still with so much care and finesse, like Gunwook is still broken completely. Gunwook sprawls out on his back because it’s what’s most comfortable. Matthew tugs his shirt over his head and crawls on top of him—a thigh on each side of his torso.

Gunwook yanks him down, their bare chests touching. Matthew brushes his lips over Gunwook’s, smiling slightly at the way Gunwook chases his mouth. 

“Stop,” Gunwook whines, wrapping his hand around one of Matthew’s forearms. 

“If I was scared, I would’ve left by now.” It feels like a prayer against his lips. Matthew dives forward to kiss him again once before breaking it to drop more along his jawline. 

Gunwook sighs, basking it in how it feels to have Matthew tell him everything he’s wanted to hear for months now. Gunwook’s ached for intimacy just like he has for money. He’s been scared of things and relationships with the fear of them not lasting. Everything he’s ever known has been temporary until a few years ago. He’s only let two people in to see the real authentic Park Gunwook. Now three.

He’s let Matthew corner him, break his walls down with relentless jabs, knock him straight out. 

Gunwook shifts them so Matthew falls over him onto his side. Gunwook turns so that he’s laying on his good shoulder. 

“You’re so pretty,” Matthew says first. He reaches his hand up to trace a finger across Gunwook’s brow bone, down the bridge of his nose, over the curve of his cheekbone. He reaches further to tug at Gunwook’s ear which makes him flinch in return. Matthew laughs. 

“And you get so red so easily.” 

“I’m supposed to say that to you,” Gunwook says.

“Then say it.”

“I think you’re beautiful.” As much as it makes him cringe, he means it. And his mind is just all Matthew so he pushes himself forward to slot their lips together again.

Gunwook mumbles against his lips in between kisses to ask what they’re even doing. Matthew responds with ‘whatever you want’ as he goes back to licking into Gunwook’s mouth. What Gunwook wants to do might be unrealistic right now since it’s short notice. He definitely doesn’t have a condom anywhere in his house, maybe Matthew does—it’s too much work to ask. 

Matthew’s hooking his fingers into the waistband of his briefs before he can hang on the thought more anyway, sliding them down his legs until they’re low enough for Gunwook to kick off. He’s embarrassingly hard, the way his cock slaps up against his stomach is proof enough. 

Matthew does the same soon after, breaking their kiss to throw his boxers elsewhere. 

When he comes back it’s like can’t get close enough. They entangle themselves. Gunwook props up Matthew’s leg to wrap around his hip, pulling him closer by the waist until the curve of his cock is sliding against Matthew’s. It’s too good. And it almost feels wrong to enjoy it so much. Gunwook is biting hard enough into his lip to almost draw blood. He wishes Matthew would bite back harder.

Matthew kisses back sloppily, out of control, making these little noises into his mouth when Gunwook tightens his hold on his hips. 

“You feel so good,” Matthew says, reaching in between them to wrap his hand around both of them. Gunwook looks down to catch the sight of it, heat searing up in his stomach when notices how Matthew’s small hand can barely keep the two of them together. Gunwook would be better for the job, he could easily enclose both of them in one of his hands. But Matthew feels good, like he knows what he’s doing.

Matthew eventually ditches his own cock and wraps a hand around Gunwook’s only. It feels like getting punched in the face without a boxing glove. Knuckles hitting against his cheek and knocking him to the ground. Matthew licks a stripe up the side of his neck, sucking the shell of his ear into his mouth afterwards. 

“Fuck,” Gunwook huffs out, whimpering, because he can’t even help himself. 

“Matt,” he pants, like it’s the only word he knows. Matthew knows he’s close, humming into his neck before leaving a wet kiss against his skin. Gunwook doesn’t try to hide how it affects him anymore when he feels his body tense up. Matthew twists his hand particularly in a way that tips him over the edge—more like pushes him off a cliff. His back arches, the pleasure that’s been nipping at his insides finally snaps. He comes hard, all over Matthew’s fist and over the hills of his knuckles. 

Matthew surges forward to kiss him again, breathing into his mouth as he chases his own high. Gunwook feels bad about not helping him, pushes his knee up in between his legs. Tells him how perfect he is and how bad he’s wanted to see him like this for so long. Matthew shivers in his hold, going boneless after he spills everything out onto Gunwook’s thigh.

It feels like winning when Matthew blinks open his eyes to look at him. Better than winning. Even in a lust daze does he know that Matthew isn’t temporary. He’ll stay with Gunwook until the universe yanks them apart. 

Hopefully, that day won’t ever come.  

__________________

The next morning Gunwook wakes up with Matthew on top of him, sleeping soundly. He grins, like he’s stupid, as Hanbin would say. He drags his fingers across his skin, noticing how soft and smooth it is. He thinks about where he is now compared to where he started. How this feels like something he never would’ve achieved no matter how confident he was in getting there. 

Accidents happen. He can heal. He’s just happy he has Matthew.

“You have a motorcycle?” Matthew gawks at the bike when they get to the parking garage. Technically, he just never really used it that much whenever he was injured. Most of the time he’d walk to places as an alternative. 

But today, he thought it’d be fun to drive Matthew around. 

“You scared?” Gunwook says putting the helmet over Matthew’s head for him. Can’t stop the laugh that spills from his mouth seeing it on him. 

“Me? Never.” 

Gunwook puts his own on and helps Matthew onto the back of the bike before getting on himself. 

“Hold on tight.” Matthew seems to only understand how important that direction is when he starts moving, jerking forward to clutch Gunwook’s jacket.

”Shit.”

Gunwook laughs. 

Since it’s early in the morning, there’s not a lot of people out. Gunwook steers them towards the highway so they can cross the bridge that overlooks the ocean. 

Matthew presses against back, incredibly close. Gunwook wants to rip off his helmet and let the wind brush against skin and through his hair. He wants to jump into the ocean and float back up to the surface while staring up at the sky. 

Being with Matthew is better than winning any match. He thinks he’ll feel that way for a while.