Chapter Text
The cool sensation of concrete on your back slowly brings you to your senses. In contrast, the warmth of the sun on your face makes you wake a bit slower. You know the air should feel dense and smell rancid, but for some reason it doesn’t weigh on you as much today.
Feeling a few thin braids tickle your cheek causes you to dreamily open your eyes.
The sun backlights the figure leaning over you and you can’t make out their words, but you can hear the smile in their unintelligible voice. Long, black braids, adorned with metal beads and rings, fall around her face.
You speak in words you can’t comprehend, which makes her tilt her head back with a laugh so musical that it puts sirens to shame. And you’re willing to crash your ship and jump into the ocean.
As you look over to see their sun-bathed face, your smile fades as you realize that it’s blank. What you thought was the embodiment of sunshine had a face wiped of features. You feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach and your cheeks dampen. You wanted to run but your body won't move, so you squeeze your eyes shut.
━━
When you open your eyes, you’re looking up at a lazily rotating ceiling fan. Your hand instantly grips your dual metal necklaces as you actually come to your senses.
“Fuck.”
Your dreams really make your head a mess... although they may be more akin to nightmares. Your nightmares are always about her, and they always end poorly. You worry that it’s a premonition that one day you’ll forget her face, or even worse, her laughter.
Groaning and cursing, you sit up. Your movement causes something next to you to shift and your eyes trail down to see a figure with a bed sheet barely covering their naked form.
You try to remember who they are, what their name is, or what their face looks like, but you know it’s hopeless. You barely remember last night, and you have no qualms with that. You could get a closer look, but with their back to you, you’d rather not risk waking them up. It’s a lot easier to slip out when they’re asleep.
Pulling on your clothes, you double check to make sure your jewelry wasn’t stolen. Last night you had opted to wear your baggy jeans, loose black tee, and beat up boots. Some nights you were in the mood to wear tight dresses or impossibly short skirts to draw people in, but you weren't feeling very femme yesterday.
You take one last second to observe your temporary partner's figure—form prominent while the bedsheet clung to their curved hips—then slip out the door without a sound. Squinting at the harsh morning sun, a rare occurrence in the Pit, you slide on your sunglasses and start making your way back to HQ.
᯽᯽᯽
“Good morning,” Semiu flatly remarks without deigning to look up from her magazines.
She’s used to seeing you saunter in, hungover as hell, but it seems she has the good sense not to comment on it. She doesn’t think it’s any of her business, anyways.
Even though you’re barely opening your eyes to suppress your migraine, you glance at what she’s reading. It's one of her porno mags, but it's a volume you've never seen before. You’re not sure how you did it, but Semiu has taken a liking to you. Enough that she lets you borrow her precious magazines. Maybe it’s because you’re one of the only people to genuinely take an interest in them. One time she even scrounged up some BL when you mentioned in passing that they’re your favorite.
“Let me borrow that one once you’re done with it.”
“Sure, sure,” she waves you off.
You were so sure it was early enough that no on would be in the dining hall, but of course Zanka was there. Probably grabbing a meal before he started his egregiously early training.
He looks at you in your sorry state: feet dragging, hair in all directions, and eyeliner so wrecked it's peeking outside the rims of your sunglasses. He lets out a scoff and turns back to his food.
Not being offended in the slightest, you let out a soft chuckle. He wasn’t totally ignorant about how you spent your nights out, but he was still a kid. You don’t expect him to understand why you do what you do, and you’re glad he doesn’t. Kids were supposed to have time to be kids.
He grew up sheltered, never having encountered things like romance (not that you were experiencing romance either). You don't blame him for his upbringing or reactions—he grew up with his own issues. Even though your own trauma doesn't invalidate his, it gives you some relief knowing he didn’t have to grow up the way you did.
You grab two cups of coffee and a slice of bread to make sure you have something in your stomach. Turning on your heel to return to the solace of your room, someone else gets the privilege of seeing you in all your glory.
The doors bust open and Enjin steps in. Looking like he just returned from a run, his normally spiky blonde hair was limp and plastered against his forehead with sweat. He was also sporting a split lip. If you had to hazard guess, he was running away from an angry boyfriend or dejected woman. You’re happy to see he’s in a similar state as you. If you have to be miserable, you’re happy this walking headache suffers as well.
Enjin is no better than you. You might go as far as saying you’re worse. It’s a common occurrence that you see each other like this. He makes annoying remarks and you mind your business. You couldn’t be any different yet the same. He stops in your path and flashes a fake smile.
“Who’s the second coffee for? A friend waiting back in your room?”
*pfft* Scrunching up your nose you avoid responding, "get out of my way. You smell like stale cigarettes and tequila."
He you move to step around him, but he meets your full step with a half step of his own, not letting you pass.
“Both are for me, dumbass,” you deadpan.
Gracing him with the elegance of your middle finger, you shut down any further conversation and he let's you pass. You take one last glance over your shoulder and catch him staring at you with a look that could only be described as devious.
᯽᯽᯽
Enjin throws the doors open. He doesn’t expect anyone to be eating this early, except maybe his star pupil, but he likes to make an entrance.
He’s only partially surprised to see you awake at this hour and in this state. You look like you’re fighting for your life. Thank my lucky stars I'm not that hungover.
Looking you up and down, he notices you have two coffees. Now that… that surprises him. He’s only seen you bring someone back to HQ once, and it seems like you regretted it since it never happened again. At least to his knowledge.
He can tell by your glare that you're ready to chew his head off at a moment's notice. He finds it entertaining how you always have something quick to say back at him. He likes how crass and witty you are. If he was honest with himself, he also likes how you’re a little mean to him. It’s fun because he doesn’t have to hold back and it keeps him on his toes.
Even though this is the extent of your relationship, you both know you don’t actually hate each other. It’s just how your relationship came to be. You may toe the line, but neither of you have ever crossed into more intimate territory. Enjin wouldn’t say no to a night between the sheets, but he always thought you wouldn’t be compatible. Even so, he never misses an opportunity to shamelessly stare at your ass as you walk away.
᯽᯽᯽
A few weeks pass and your late nights remain consistent. This morning you roll out your own bed by a record-breaking 9 a.m. You stayed out late but not for your usual reasons, but that’s a secret you’ll keep to yourself. Needing to earn a little cash on the side is a habit you’ve never been able to break even though you don’t need to, to survive anymore.
With this thought, your mind starts fading to memories of the past again.
━━
Knuckles wrapped in athletic tape; you wait on one side of the ring. Fourteen with a bound torso, you bounce on your heels to shake the nervousness that was heavy in your chest.
If you fail to live up to their expectations, your payment will be withheld, meaning you’ll to have to fill up on stale bread until the next match. Even worse if the results lose them a considerable amount of money. You tried not to wince at the thought.
Regaining your composure, you look up to see the boy you’re supposed to fight step into the ring. You had to stay locked in. Fights are more mental than physical.
✧ ✦ ✧
His hand whips across your face. You register the sting that adds another layer to your wounds, but you don’t flinch. You don’t want to risk fanning the flames by showing weakness.
You're in an office that overlooks The Summit's arena. Before your time, someone found it clever to name this underground fighting ring—which was literally underground—as such to throw the Hell Guard off their trail. You thought it to be obvious, but this place was still operating, so it must've done its job.
"Everyone out,” your fixer barks. The three gang members in the room quickly scurry out without question.
You hate that you lost again. Hate that you're weak. But knowing you had to rely on her again makes you sick to your stomach. You tell yourself that you'll just have to scrounge the trash for useful things to sell. Losing your place in her life would be the end of yours.
He leans over you to assert his dominance. It’s not his stance that worries you, but the words that come next.
“You know I’m a generous man, right?”
You remain silent.
“RIGHT?” he boomed as he grabbed the collar of your shirt.
You looked down at his hand, adorned with gemmed rings. A disgusting display of wealth, but you knew he only had enough money to play the part.
You nod in compliance, as he's the only person who knows that your chest was bound. You did so in order to keep your place on the roster and predators away. Dangerous information that he kept in his back pocket. It was easier to hide before, but as you aged, it was becoming more difficult to keep it under wraps. However, it wasn’t an easy feat for the average person to spot. You, amongst many others, don’t have curves since malnourishment is the norm on the Ground.
“I’m severely close to pulling you from competing. Lesser men would’ve sold you off to deplorable places of employment by now, but like I said, I’m generous.”
You still at those words. He’s threatened to sell you to human traffickers for a year now. Nothing has come of it, but you know everyone has their limits. This man is cruel and would discard you once you’re no longer useful.
“Next competition is in two weeks. Get your shit together. If you run away, just know I’ll find you.”
━━
That night was over seven years ago, but your past has never lessened its hold on you. You doubt you’re unique in this aspect, which gives you enough of a sense of normalcy to make it through the day.
᯽᯽᯽
After a successful mission, the Cleaners were itching to celebrate. You wouldn’t typically go to a bar with a group as large as yours, but it was too last minute to have anything worthwhile at HQ.
Normally Riyo would complain about being left behind due to her not being of drinking age, but as (bad) luck would have it, she was bedbound until tomorrow. Nothing serious, but Eisha wants to keep an eye on her overnight. As for Zanka, he doesn’t care for drinking and would rather spend that time training. Although, if it were at HQ, you would’ve pestered him to pull his Assistaff out of his ass and go have fun with everyone else.
Years ago, you would’ve never been able to experience such a relaxed and joyful night out. It’s not like you had never been asked, but you lacked the time. Every moment was spent rummaging through the trash or training to survive the ring.
━━
Before you met her you were nothing but teeth.
The world made you furious and people made sure you were constantly looking over your shoulder. Knots were ever present in your back since you rarely relaxed your muscles, even in your sleep.
You always used to joke about how you were the grumpy to her sunshine. She would correct you and say, “you’re the night to my day. Different, but both necessary and equally beautiful.”
You got what she was saying, but you never understood.
She made you realize you could laugh again. That monsters weren’t lurking around every corner. That the pain isn’t worth it if you don’t live. She romanticized life and you were almost jealous you couldn’t, but you could never be jealous of her, you loved her too much. Your love transcended beyond the confines of friendship or romance; it was deeper than that. You were two halves of a whole.
Once she was gone, you thought you would never feel anything again. It took years, but something in you adapted to your new reality. She would cry if she saw you regress back to that broken, angry girl, and you hated to see her cry.
A person isn't truly dead if they still affect the world that remains. You would do your best to use the sunshine she left behind as your own, so she’d never die.
━━
Tonight, thoughts of your past were dormant. Once you were in your element—drink in hand and surrounded by people—your thoughts only wandered to where the night would take you. Not having much time to change after the mission, you threw on your typical baggy jeans and a loose, black tee that ended right above your navel. You dual chains hanging around your neck as always.
You found yourself chilling in a corner getting cozy with a tall brunette with bronzed skin. You consider yourself to be tall, a few inches short of 6 feet, but damn it’s nice to get to gaze up at a woman while she talks.
You lean in closer, speaking into her ear, acting like the bar was too noisy to hear what she’s saying. When you don’t pull back, she picks up on your intentions, so she offhandedly mentions a nice bar she went to last week with her boyfriend. You take the hint and remove yourself from her personal space as she apologizes. You reassure her that there’s no need for apologies and excuse yourself, wishing her a lovely night.
Just as you’re about to walk away, you add with a disarming smile, “If things don’t work out with him, I’ll be around.”
Not giving yourself a moment to reflect on how sleazy you sound, you turn and spy Semiu watching the interaction. You dramatically pretend to be shot in the heart which earns you an eye roll. You open your mouth to say something and Enjin cuts in with feigned concern.
“Aweee, why the long face, babe?”
Pretending he's not there, you continue to complain to Semiu.
“It’s so incredibly difficult to clock someone’s sexuality. What a harsh reminder to never assume, but I gotta put feelers out somehow.“
Semiu snorts into her drink.
“Don’t get me wrong,” you continue, “I have no interest in a woman who doesn’t want me, but being rejected is still a hit to my ego.” You place the back of your hand over your forehead and pretend to faint.
Enjin’s smirk grows wide and you feel a headache coming on just from the sight of it.
He rests his hand on your hip as he leans in close. Your cheeks lightly brush while he whispers into your ear, “good thing it seems we have the same type.”
He pulls back and gives you a wink as he takes a step past you towards the tall woman. You knew your bitchass senses were tingling.
“Unlike you, I’m not boring enough to reduce myself to having one type,” you yell over your shoulder.
Semiu sees the defeat in your eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with mischief. You see your smile turn wicked in the reflection of her glasses, but you move too fast to think before you act.
“Watch this.”
You walk past Bro Santa, stealing and ripping the shot that was in his hand. Lucky for you, he’s too taken aback to protest.
“Thanks! I owe you one!” you shout as you wave your hand, not looking back.
Lazily holding your glass, you take your time walking up to Enjin. You have a clear view of his face, and as his eyes flick to you, a flash of uncertainty crosses his features.
Grasping his shoulder, loud enough for a others to hear, you exclaim, “Enjin, I heard the news! Congrats on your wife’s pregnancy. Let me know as soon as you find out the due date!”
But you don’t stop there.
Climbing onto the bar, drink raised, you clink your rings on your glass and call for everyone’s attention. “Here’s to the Cleaners who risked their lives to ensure our mission was a success!” You pause to let everyone hoot and holler, but you keep your drink in the air, as you’re not quite done.
“And to our strongest, Enjin! Congratulations! We know you’ll be an incredible dad!”
Used to your antics, everyone plays along. Cheers and clinking glasses echo throughout the bar. You jump down and turn to Enjin, who shares a smile that lacks warmth and a stare that promises violence. On the other hand, your smile is genuine while returning the wink he gave you earlier.
You see Gris, arms crossed and leaning on the wall, staring at you with a curious yet trepid look. You decide to join him to sate his curiosity.
“Please tell me you had a good reason to do that,” he scolds.
“As good as any. He irritated me.”
“One day your luck will run out and you’ll get burned,” he chides lightheartedly.
Gris jerks his chin towards Enjin who’s slouching in defeat while Semiu is doubled over next to him trying to stifle a laugh. Delmon makes his way over and grips his shoulders in support.
“I HAD NO IDEA! CONGRATULATIONS! MAY YOUR LIFE AS A FATHER BLOOM LIKE A BEAUTIFUL FLOWER!” Delmon yells loud enough that you swear the building shook.
Feeling pleased with yourself, your gaze moves past the scene to see a man with soft features staring at you. You lock eyes for a second, but after a beat he shyly averts his gaze. Cute. It could be a tactic, not that it matters to you.
You playfully punch Gris’s bicep and start moving in the pretty boy’s direction. “Well, back into the ring.”