"Hey, Hwoarang."

"Yep?"

"Are you gay?"

After that little conversation, the room was torn apart- literally. You could gaze up the skies from the divided ceilings. The room was also pleasantly redecorated with chairs with broken legs and furnitures with holes or smashed into quarters. But, we can't really do anything to fix this as we were both leaning our heavy backs against the wall, beside each other. Both, oh, so exhausted. We were panting our constricted lungs out while we attempt to lift our weary arms to punch the person next to us- one of us has to 'throw' the last punch. It was a sign of victory.

"No," he breathed. "No,"

Head turning to the side, I stiffly turned my head to face him. I tried to pull a questioning face in respond to his sudden one-word-comment. Although, I probably look like I'm stretching a constipated face. "What?" I croaked. "About the gay thing?"

"Uh-huh"

I slowly grasped the sleeves of his Tae Kwon Do dobuk and tugged him down, which caused his body to collapse on the floor. He was unresponsive as he didn't even slip out a sound to indicate pain. It's true the he's very muscular but wouldn't he at least feel a bit of agony? His body should have been, in any case, feeling sore and I should be hearing the glorious groaning and moaning of his. But, despite my disappointment, I still feel rather triumphant…

"Ha! I win," I coughed. "And you're still gay."

His heavy hands pulled on my arm and he used it to slither himself to lie his lead on my lap. He intensely gazed up to me with a disapproved expression. "You have no absolute fighting skills. You were clumsy- you got lucky, noob."

I stifled a laugh. "It's called 'intelligence'. Even if I am rather weak against you, I took advantage of what I could take benefit from. If you can't find any advantages against your enemy, you use your surroundings."

"Yeah? I call it cheating, being inexperienced and pathetic."

"Shut up, just because your brain is as small as a pea and your hair sucks."

One of the furniture collapsed to the floor and the vase on top of it, smashed into pieces. My grandmother wouldn't be so happy about that…

"I would say the same for you," he said, ignoring the sudden breakage. Then, he paused for a moment. "You said you liked my hair."

I knocked his head for his ignorance. "Yeah, did you notice the past tense you just used?"

"I need a reason why you hate it now!"

"Because-!"

The crooked door swung open and flew towards the walls and the master of Tae Kwon Do, also the red-head's master, walked in, unaffected regarding the state of the room. He looked around with one brow raised, still no emotions formed but disparagement may be sparking in his eyes. He looked over to us, seeing Hwoarang and I beaten up with the Korean's head laid on my lap. If I was in Baek's position, I would assume Hwoarang has been defeated… Awesome!

"Was I interrupting something…" he scanned the room once again. "Intense?"

I blinked at his choice of words. "When you mean 'intense', do you m-?"

The red-headed Korean abruptly pulled himself up and bowed to Baek by sitting on his lower leg and knees. "Master!" Then, he started rubbing his temples. "Damn, that guitar was harder than it looks." he glared at me in accusation, which I grinned in response.

"If I was actually interrupting something, I'll leave," said Baek.

"No, no! Take the pea-head with you!" I pleaded as I crawled to Baek's legs to hug it, feeling utter grief. "He wreaked my room, for goodness sake!" I pointed at the ceiling.

As I released Baek's legs, the Tae Kwon Do master swatted his arms towards the door, pointing outside, while staring at Hwoarang. His pupil stood up and dropped his shoulder, limping out of the room.

"Hey, Hwoarang!" I yelled out.

"What now?" he moaned from another room.

"You're gay for Jin Kazama, right?"

Sturdy footsteps stampeded as Hwoarang re-entered my room. "Watch what you're saying, Shortie!" A hand grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back.

I leaned on the door frame as I watched Hwoarang pout while being pulled away. "Don't run away from your feelings!" I screamed. "It's not healthy, dude!

I pulled myself up with the door frame as support and inspected my room, checking every detail that has been scratched, punched, kicked, hit by the furnitures and stained with smeared blood. Fortunately, the bed hasn't collapsed and was only dirtied during the duel between me and the Korean. Though, I could have easily knocked him out if I could have lifted the bed and smashed it onto his head. Easy win.

"Ugh, I am never going to use too much furnitures on him again…" I poked the chair and it rocked backward. "Just a chair will work… A chair made out of metal."

"Any more clothes?"

"Nah," I answered. "Just these." I pulled out my lingerie. But then I realised his gaze on them so I hid it behind my back. Men alike are perverts, no matter who they are.

Hwoarang smiled. "Nice ones."

"Pervert. Just get out and put them in the wash."

"What about the-"

"I'll take care of that!"

"Okay, okay!" And so he scurried off.

I sighed while opening a black sack; I gathered broken pieces of anything and dropped them all in it. How could such mini-wrestling match cause so much havoc? Although, Hwoarang did throw me onto the bed, with my head hitting the walls, so I kicked him hard on the stomach. So most likely, the fight got more violent over time- and that's when the furnitures start to 'break'.

"Riley, you want to go somewhere?" Hwoarang offered as he walked in.

I closed the black sack with a knot and let go of it. "Street fighting?" It was rather obvious what his thoughts were.

He nodded with a smirk. "Just me, you're just going to watch." He grinned sheepishly.

"You're sexist. You've never actually seen me properly fight, right?"

He walked over to me and laid a hand on my shoulders. "I was kidding. You're going to be my assistant fighter."

Is there such thing? "Okay? Why are we street fighting anyways?"

Hwoarang laid his hands behind his head. "Money. I'm kind of broke."

"Get a job!"

He moaned like a kid. "The effort that I have to put up!"

"So is fighting!" I kicked the sack to the wall neatly. "Baek doesn't even approve of your street fighting."

"Well, duh. But I need money!"

"For what, though?"

The Korean placed the milkshake on my table and poked the straw into my forehead before popping it into my milkshake. He then sat down on the opposite seat with a larger glass filled with the same content.

"Oh… for milkshake?" I said, realization smacking me upside the head.

"What? I can't be bothered getting my credit card," Hwoarang replied.

I blinked at him but decided to shrug it off. I stared at his drink and noticed something new.

"Strange," I chuckled, catching his gaze. "I could have sworn you'd ask for root beer here."

"I would have, but too bad cafés don't serve them." He grinned playfully.

I sipped on my milkshake and tasted the cool, sweet and wonderful strawberry flavour ooze into my taste buds. While enjoying this wonderful beverage, I thought about if I'm actually considering entering the next tournament. However, if I think about the usual competitors, I would probably make a fool out of myself. Think about it: the notorious Jin Kazama and his Devil Gene, the killer William Sisters, the seductive yet dangerous Christie and some more very powerful people- I will be killed, despite all that training from Baek and the Laws. Or maybe that is enough? A mix of Tae Kwon Do and Jeet Kune Do (or Martial Arts)… Not bad, really, in my perspective- possibly, quite deadly, perhaps?

"Hey, Riley. Hello?" Hwoarang said, waving his hand close to my face. "Did the drink freeze you or something?"

I shook my head to snap out of my thoughts and carried on drinking. "Sorry, dazed off."

"Was I that boring?" he pouted with a hurt expression- mixing a comical mood with sadness. "I'm actually hurt…"

I sighed. "It's not like that." I took a large sip.

He cocked his head. "Then what?"

I looked away before looking back at him. "Just about some tournament that may come up in the future." I checked his face, noticing that there absolutely were no bruises. His fight earlier was easy.

"The 'Iron Fist'?"

"Yup." I pushed the finished drink to the side. "Thanks. I like strawberry."

He grinned, satisfied with the comment. "I know. Hey, if you are going to join the tournament, you need extra training." Hwoarang pointed at himself with his thumb. "I'll be a perfect trainer for you… But, it's going to cost you."

I took my used straw and threw it at him, which harmlessly came into contact with his face. He looked at me with utter disbelief as he threw the straw back, which pathetically missed.

"I'll stick with Baek."

At that moment, silence flew by; I didn't make another eye contact with Hwoarang. I just thought it was awkward doing so while silence was floating over the atmosphere. As the clock ticked, I kept thinking Hwoarang was going to open his mouth to say something- anything. But that never came and I started to wonder.

"Here are your orders," the waitress announced, putting down two plates of single sliced cakes with ice cream, before walking off, but not after stealing a glance at my red-head companion.

When my eyes landed on Hwoarang, he blindly took his plate and ate it, his eyes still elsewhere. My brows furrowed and followed where his eyes were. There was a black car parked in the pavements and behind the dark tinted window, there was a large form. The figure seems to belong to a man since his hair was spiked up. There was also a fringe that hanged down to his angular face… Ahh, no wonder Hwoarang was so unusually quiet. He similarly resembles Jin Kazama, unless…

Hwoarang spoke up. "Do you see what I see?"

"Someone cosplaying Jin Kazama? Oh, goody," I answered. "I'll go cosplay as Ling Xiaoyu." My foot was suddenly flattened by another foot. I tried to hold in the pain. "Ouch…" I said faintly.

"Are you done with your cake?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

He quickly stood up, slammed the payment on the table, grabbed my wrist and ran to the exit. Just when we were close to the black car from earlier, it drove off, leaving Hwoarang with clenched teeth. He looked around and dashed for an alley that reeked of sewage and foul food.

"Don't tell me we're stalking Jin?" I yelled out.

He shushed me. "Not stalking… 'Attacking'."

I tried to wrench my wrist to release myself, all end in fail. "Can't you save it for the next tournament?" I tried to pull myself once again but another fail won over me.

"Hey, look! Steve with a messed up do!" I remarked, pointing at the English boxer.

"Eh?" Hwoarang blinked at the view. "Oh, man, this sucks!"

Steve turned our direction, his hair almost bearing a resemblance to Jin's. His usual half-buttoned shirt was creased and slightly smudged with dirt with his trousers in the same condition. Whatever happened to him, the person or animal must hate his style for hair and clothing and is a large fan of Jin.

"What sucks?" he asked.

The red-head disregarded his question. "So… You're not Jin?"

"Hell, no!" Steve grunted and turned.

"That sucks!"

I poked Hwoarang. "Why would you think he's Jin just after looking at him?"

"I thought he was cosplaying!" he yelled.

The Korean slapped my hand away. "Hey, slowly!" he moaned.

I glared at him. I grabbed his wrist and slammed it to the floor.

"That hurts!"

"Slap my hands again and the other wrist gets it."

And so, the boy stayed still.

Slowly, just like he instructed, I lowered the ice bag onto his forehead. His teeth were clenched to the freezing substance lying over his skin but he avoided opening his mouth or he'll have to face another level of pain from me.

"You were clumsy." I smiled. "And you're on my lap once again."

"It's your fault I got beaten up…" He poked my chin.

"How could you think Jin would cosplay Steve?"

He sat up, holding the icepack still in his forehead, and turned his head to me. "Because I thought, it would be a great gift for you."

I pulled a face. "You want to give me Jin?" I thought for a moment. "For what?"

Hwoarang placed the icepack somewhere. He then laid a hand on the floor beside me then another on the other side. So I was confined- between him and the wall, as well as both his arms. How am I feeling? Rather warm and fuzzy. What am I thinking? Is this going to get 'intense' (quoted from Master Baek)? Why are my eyes twitching? It's because my personal space is being intruded by a fit red-headed Korean.

"Nah…" he whispered. "Why would I give my rival to you?"

"Because… How the hell would I know?"

The closer his face advanced to mine, the more my eyes twitched. Was it really going get 'intense'? His breath smelled like chocolate mixed with blood, it softly caressed my skin and it felt rather ticklish so I had a slight case goose bumps. I stifled a chuckle. At that moment, Hwoarang sank his head down to the side of my head and to my curves of my neck.

Footsteps faintly sounded and, as a reflex, I tilted my head up a little. I didn't want to move much as I want to observe what will happen soon… Shortly, I felt Hwoarang's mouth against my neck. My body immediately jerked. I couldn't help but squeal- I made an effort to make it as quiet as possible, though.

"I wanted you to see me beat him to a pulp," the Korean suddenly said. "I wanted you to see how good I've become."

There was a big stomp, a finish to the constant footsteps. I quickly pushed Hwoarang back but he didn't budge enough to completely move him away from my personal space. Therefore, one of his hands is still beside me and his face was breathing on my ear. Where's a fan when you need it…

"Street fighting again, Hwoarang?" a familiar voice boomed throughout the alley.

I felt Hwoarang gulp and his breathing pattern was now quicker.

Baek spoke up again. "Don't you have anything better to do? Get a job or train more."

I grinned at the remark.

The red-head pulled himself to the same position before Baek came in- my precious personal space was once again invaded. "Riley." He pressed his mouth against mine.

Then he was yanked backwards by the collar and was now being hauled away. As Beak travelled by foot, Hwoarang travelled by his rear end.

I blinked away from the two and stared at my finger. Unhurriedly and with those fingers, I touched those lips that touched Hwoarang's. It felt… great. No, that was an understatement. It was awesome… My lips stretched into a smile.

I've basically been kissed.

By that guy.

"Hey!"

I looked up. Hwoarang was waving both his arms to me with that handsome boyish grin.

"Happy Birthday!" he hollered.

I blinked and, again, realization smacked me upside the head. It's my birthday today?

I gasped.

…

Damn… I forgot my own birthday.

Author's Note: Oh, yeah...

Happy Birthday to a special friend who loves Hwoarang so much ;3

Also, Happy Birthday to you guys who's birthday is today (because you're reading this) or yesterday or tomorrow or... You get my point (: