The bottle shattered upon the wall in an explosion of glass and and alcohol, flecks of glass and droplets of brandy flying through the air away from the wall before falling to the ground to pepper the dusty floor.
A loud CRACK shot through the air as a blond man wearing all black and a trench-coat flew forward and staggered to a stop at the wall where the bottle had smashed, planting his gloved hands on the moist wall, facing the wet bricks.
He looked over his shoulder with one exceptionally blue eye. His spiky blond hair was sticking in every direction possible, blood dribbling down from his temple to cling to the edge of his eye and stick to his hair.
A snapped pool cue clattered to the ground, blood clinging to the tips of the splintered wood, and the only other person in the bar strode forward. He wore dark leather and a fur ruff around his collar, grey-blue eyes staring out from behind shoulder-length brown hair that fell about and framed his face.
Suddenly, a bottle of liquor was in his hand and he threw it at the other male. The bottle was a mere smear of colour before it smashed against the wall where the blond had been a split second before.
A fist collided with the brunet's jaw with monstrous strength, and everything was suddenly up-side-down and the brunet slammed against the floor. The bar was spinning so much he only barely felt the explosion of pain in his jaw.
The blond was suddenly standing over the bleary-eyed brunet and before he could do anything, a boot shot out and collided against his ankle, the blond crashing to the ground. A fist slammed against his cheek and his head snapped to the side, blood splattering onto the dusty floor.
The brunet was about to punch the blond again, kneeling over him, before the other's fist slammed into his gut, all the air flying from his lungs. The force of the blow actually made him stand and fly back, into the pool table behind him, a bruise immediately bursting to life under the skin of both his gut and back.
A broken pool-cue was snatched up from the ground and thrown at the brunet so hard it was a mere streak of tan and black, the other male suddenly standing on the pool-table, one knee almost buckling onto the pool-balls from a gash in his leg caused by the pool-cue, the lights dancing about the brunet's head and bumping into each other, the pool cue embedding itself in the floor.
A foot was hooked on the edge of the pool table and the brunet launched himself at the blond, a foot slamming into the other's gut before his elbow whipped across the doubled-over blond's temple, and a knee smashed into his throat; the man staggering back and the other following.
The blond's back hit the wall and suddenly blood was spat into the brunet's eyes, a foot hooking around and slamming into the back of his knee, plowing it to the floor and twisting his body to the side, a fist colliding with the back of his skull, the brunet made to fly forward and tumble to the floor.
The fight was fast-paced and terrible, each blow coming less than a second after the other. The blond's blows always had unimaginable force behind them, he could stand more pain and his strength far surpassed the other's. The brunet's attacks were always directed at essential parts of the body and his body was more flexible than the other's.
A fist collided with the blond's gut, the man doubling over before a hand suddenly flew up to snatch hold of the brunet's wrist. Another hand shot downward and crashed onto his forearm, an explosion of the feeling of something shattering in the brunet's shoulder and elbow shrieking through the man's body, barely feeling the grip snatch hold of his neck.
His head crashed against the wall and a flash of stars appeared before his eyes, the hand around his throat tightening a little, fingers digging into the sides of the brunet's jaw with a bruising grip, holding the brunet a foot off the ground. Grey-blue eyes blinked a few times and stared down at the bright blue ones staring up at him, both males breathing heavily through clenched teeth.
"Let go of me," the brunet snarled quietly, one hand winding around the wrist of the hand around his neck, the other hanging at his side.
"Why?" retorted the blond in a dangerously quiet voice, tonguing the blood seeping from the edge of his mouth, breaths sweeping through his bloody lips quickly but harshly, the fingertips digging into the brunet's jaw tightening.
A slight grit of white teeth is all the blond gets in a reply; pale eyes glare, burning down at him, the brunet's chest still heaving like the other's own. Blood was continuing to dribble down from the bridge of the brunet's nose and starting to drip onto the glove gripping him, barely seen against the dark leather.
"I don't even know you," continues the blond in his breathy, venomous voice, fingers tightening that tiny bit more. "Not very polite." The brunet feels himself be pushed up the wall a little higher. "You haven't even introduced yourself yet."
White teeth grind together a little bit. ". . . Leon." It's a grunt. Barely audible. The word reluctant and furious, barely slipping out of those thinned lips and gritted teeth.
A flash of perfect teeth in the form of a smug little smirk is what Leon gets in return from the blond as his other hand lifts to his face and dabs at the weeping cut at the edge of his mouth with the pad of one gloved finger.
"Cloud," says the other male in an unconcerned manner, looking down to stare at the blood clinging to the pad of his glove before pressing the fingertip back against the cut.
"This your bar?" Leon questioned in a quiet growl, pale eyes flickering up at his surroundings for a second. They'd somehow upturned a pool table, several pool cues were snapped or disfigured, many chairs were thrown about the place and upturned, there were some pool balls on the floor, and broken glass littered the whole bar. He looked back down at the other male to see a golden eyebrow hitched upwards slightly.
"Mine?" asked Cloud, voice mild, a very slight scowl melting onto his face. "No."
The brunet let out an impatient breath through his nose, glaring down at the other male. "It isn't mine," he growled quietly, hand tightening around the other male's wrist.
So, they'd both somehow found themselves in a local empty bar in the ungodly hours of the morning, and decided to use the other male for target practice and a punching bag. It wasn't often Leon found someone worth fighting.
Suddenly, the hand under his jaw was gone and his feet slammed into the floor once more, knees almost buckling with the sudden force, Leon letting out a faint cough and letting a hand come up to his bruised jaw, eying the other male.
Cloud just ran a glove through his spiky hair, blue eyes staring blankly off to the side, his tongue running over his lips, face expressionless. He spoke again, not looking at the brunet. "Why were we fighting again?"
A twitch of Leon's shoulders is the reply, and blue eyes flick to him before looking back at the wall blankly.
Leon raised a hand to his face and rubs the coagulating blood from his chin and nose with his gloved knuckles, lips thinning at the pain that shot through the bridge of his nose and throbbed in his skin there, reminding him of the marring scar that was sure to be there in the future.
Pale eyes look back to the blonde to see Cloud had a few fingers in his mouth and had a slight frown on his face. A loud sound that made Leon wrinkle his pained nose a little shot through the air and Cloud removed his fingers from his mouth again, a single bloody molar held in between his fingers.
The brunet felt the edge of his mouth twitch upwards a little, a mouthful of blood and saliva being spat onto the ground by the blond. It has been a while since he'd met someone like him.
"Want to get a drink?" Leon murmured calmly, flicking some of his blood-matted hair behind his ear, pale eyes fixed on what remained of the bar, a few different bottles of liquor still standing.
Blue eyes look at the brunet, and pale eyes look back, the both of their breathing becoming slower and more even, the adrenaline wearing down, and the blond smirked faintly with bloody lips and slipped the molar in his hand into his trench coat pocket.
"Thought you'd never ask."
((END. A quick something I've been meaning to write for a while. I have no excuse for my nine-month hiatus. I am not pregnant, I did not die, my computer did not suddenly grow legs and run away... I just stopped writing. And then I got a sweet little review on one of my fics saying that the reader was disappointed in me for not updating in nine months! . . . Apparently my brain does not like disappointing people, because immediately after I read that review, I started writing the next chapter of the fic they reviewed! I'm working on it, guys. I'm just a little slow! Sorry! Enjoy, as usual!))