Good Night

Very short, fast-paced breaths could be heard in the distance, resonating within the building's confines. Grunts, huffs, and even coughing are not uncommon noises on certain occasions. However, mostly everyone else was silent, for the spectators new better than to say a word. They enjoy watching the fight. After all, it is what they came for. The exchanging of blows, the sound of the other coughing blood, and the rare occurrence of causing a scream all caused the audience to rivet.

On certain days, there may be crowds of people watching. On others, there were perhaps only two or three. The people themselves weren't a unified sort of group. They were not a homogeneous mixture of sorts. Some of them happen to be respectful business people, body builders, couch potatoes, doctors, housewives, and even other fighters themselves. They all understood the reason why they were here: to watch people nearly kill each other in a fight. That was all; no more, no less.

Today was one of those days where a crowd of people formed. A general rule given was to remain quiet and spectate reasonably, but some newcomers came to visit. "How rowdy," one of the observers whispered to himself. He sighed gently as he brushed away some of the golden-blonde bangs away from his eyes to watch, and then smile, as the men inside grunted and sweated profusely. This one person was speculated to come and either participate or observe every match, for it was rather rare to not see him. The other observing fighters looked to his direction. It seemed as if he was rather well-known in the area. His fighting style, haughty demeanor, and even stance were easily recognizable. However, the most discerning feature about him was his nearly perfect amethyst-like eyes.

Tino sat and observed the ongoing fight in the arena. Tino only appeared to smile to the two whilst examining them thoroughly. The taller one appeared to be of perhaps Turkish origin. "True to his country… he uses an exaggerated form of Turkish oil wrestling… how stereotypical." Tino arched a brow at the other fighter, for he was much shorter and "fairer" than his competitor. It was not to say that he didn't give him a chance, but rather, was simply confused as to why he was against such a person. It was too early to determine anything, however.

A few minutes into the match and he realized that the shorter one did not have much of a style to him as Tino would have thought. "He's just throwing punches and knees." He furrowed in his seat, unsure whether the advantage goes to the Turkish man for having a defined style, or to the other's unpredictability. It eventually came down to about five minutes into the match, with both bleeding slightly from either the nose or the mouth. As the Turkish man finally grabs the opponent's leg, holding it still while sliding around behind him. Tino smiled as he knew the match has been decided, for the oil wrestler slammed the other down into submission.

After the night's fight ended, Tino simply sat up and walked to his car. He let out a simple sigh before leaving the building. "Disappointing… no screaming tonight either." Shrugging, he simply set out onto the road and drove. He'd always been one to pay attention to the road when driving, and today was no exception. Street lights, sidewalks, signs, and even homeless people were all customary to see. As he nearly arrived to his household, he noticed a small pile of items next to the nearby apartment complex. A man, presumably homeless, that Tino saw only looked at him. Tino, not knowing what to do, shrugged it off before pulling into the driveway. "He was looking at me… maybe… later, if I pass by again." His words were ambiguous to anyone that wasn't in his head… in other words, only he truly understood himself.

As he arrived home, he was greeted with a very empty abode. This is not to mean that his house was not furnished. He had a very stylish home, one full of simple yet refined taste. However, the space itself felt "empty," as if there was a void that was not full. Such feelings were all too familiar with Tino, but he had eventually come to accept it as part of his daily life.

He moved to his bedroom and began undressing, getting ready for sleep soon. It was late, after all. He took off his glasses, removed his turtleneck and jeans so that he was left only in an undershirt and boxers. Tino still felt rather restless, however; the fight that went on, althought it could not be seen visibly, got Tino rather riled up. Chamomile tea was his choice if he couldn't go to sleep, and it was exactly what he made. He was the type that knew how he liked something and eventually fell into a routine at night: try to sleep, make tea, and then sleep successfully. He got a slice of lemon and squirted it into the tea, a little bit of honey, and some sugar. He moaned as a means of accord that he prepared it correctly.

Once the cup's contents were downed, Tino sauntered off to bed, feeling much more relaxed than before. Lazily, he placed a blanket over himself. "Night," he said to absolutely no one, smiling in the company of only his sleeping self.

Berwald was never one to speak. Silence was a safe haven, and the outside was his home. His new home, rather. His other… he didn't even wish to remember. It was better than now, but he could not be himself there. As a cold night fell upon the city, the man stood up to seek a warmer place to retire; a brick wall simply would not be enough support. Walking about, he saw several cars pass along by. "I wonder… how warm it is in there…" he thought to himself. He, of course, wore rather thick piles of clothing, but it was still not resilient enough to combat the oncoming embrace of night. He placed both hands under his arms as he used his own body heat to warm them. Finally reaching his destination, he bit his lower lip. Aside to this apartment complex was a seemingly unnoticeable area where several items would appear to be. As he was about to head to his "spot," he went into a rather deep contemplation about if he could ask the neighboring apartments for… something. Anything, in fact. Food, water, clothes, even a decent shower would help.

Sighing, Berwald felt like trying his luck today. "Maybe… these people'll be different." He slowly approached a random door, for it did not matter which one to him, and knocked rather gently. Berwald knew he'd probably scare off these people, as was a natural ability of his. People were often intimidated of his stare, facial expression, his large muscular form, or a combination of any three.

He stood and waited for any response from the inside, which was none. He knocked once more to make sure people were inside. "Lights're on… must be people," he said to himself in a low-tone. He felt a cough coming on and leaned to the side to cough into his elbow.

When he did so, he noticed a rather young girl peering from the window sill. She was a rather small one at that. He only looked at her with some confusion as to what she was doing. If one was observing her closely, however, she would appear to glance back into the main part of the apartment, mouth moving as if she was saying something. Of course, to Berwald, this was not apparent. After a few minutes of speaking inside, the young girl scampered off into the apartment.

Footsteps were finally heard before the door opened. What was infront of Berwald was a woman of considerable height, but still not as tall as Berwald. She held a telephone with the younger child behind her. "Perhaps she's the mother," he thought. As he was about to open his mouth to ask for… again, anything, the woman spoke.

"Get out of the doorstep now before I call the police." The words were only empowered further by her stern face.

"Ma'am, I… only was about ta ask fer… hot food, water… shower… anythin' you can spare." The woman had no part of it and simply took her child inside the house, making sure to slam the door shut infront of the taller man. Berwald sighed, eventually shaking his head before moving back to his spot in the homelessness that he calls home. Cardboard boxes were used as a makeshift matress and pillow, while a very tattered and ripped piece of rag that could barely cover his body was a blanket.

He tried to sleep throughout the night, but had many troubles doing so. Despite the night's weather, a passing car, again, stirred him awake. He sat upright, making very brief eye contact to the driver, which was none other than the house directly across from the apartment building. He never paid much attention to that area, but always wondered what type of people lived there. He took note of the driver's attire and automatically assumed he was one of wealth. He sighed as the driver looked away, mumbling before laying down once more. "God natt," he said to himself, allowing one tear to drop, before letting his consciousness fade into the night.