If it is in normal style, then it is speech.
If it is in italics, then it is thought.
If it is in bold, then it is the individual's natural tongue.
If it is underlined, then it is Devil.

Chapter Fourteen: …Till My Heart Is Black And Blue

God dammit.

He fiddled about with the guitar strings for a moment, making sure they were still nice and tight. It had been a while since he played, and right now, he was home alone again. This happily constituted to playing freely, without anyone hearing him. He could let out his own pain without being a burden to anyone around him, through the strings.

Two months had passed since her birthday.

Despite the hurtful event that had occurred to her on that day, which left not only her heart black and blue, but his as well; she still liked Tae-Yang, much to his annoyance. From her side of the lines, she'd look at him. In the final row, on the furthest side of the room, right beside the guy he loathed so much; he'd watch, holding back a sigh. Didn't she learn anything by what she had seen? Was she still hopeful or something? What had to happen before she gave up and moved on? It was frustrating and depressing just thinking about it, let alone seeing her still interact with him like before.

How much longer?

Hwoarang leant over, his thumb flicking the switch of his small amplifier. The initial static hum filled his room for a moment, before it fizzled out, leaving nothing. Adjusting the volume with one hand, he slid his fingers along the strings from the other hand, getting them into position. The movement created a dull, scratching sound again. He leant to his right side, where his CD player and speakers were located, and stabbed the power button with his thumb.

A year had gone by when they first met.

A cliché thing to think, but it didn't feel that long. A year was a long time in the eyes of a young one. The days stretched on for a longer period of time, five minutes in a class felt like an hour… and so on and so forth. It felt more like four months or so. Needless to say, during the time period, he had fun. What wasn't fun at the moment was this situation.

The piano's soft, desolate sound resonated through the speakers, and was eventually overtaken by the pounding drums and screaming guitar – the latter both on the record and in real life. And then the rough vocals came, topping off the sad song, invoking his own voice to crawl from the hole it always hid in. His voice worked in his mother tongue, but his mind reflected on the lyrics in English.

Do you know why the rain comes?
It's because someone is praying for all your sadness to be erased to comfort you.

"If we are done here," Razer inquired, "then why do we not head back home? It may rain or something."

She continued to look up to Baek, her eyes holding many inquisitive questions. They had gone shopping for more dojang equipment, such as boards to kick, a few more shin guards, and so on and so forth. All had been stored into the trunk and backseats of the teacher's car, and both were simply hanging out outside of the vehicle, tired.

The Korean tilted his head slightly and smiled, "I like to give Hwoarang some alone time whenever I go out."

"Any particular reason?"

"So he can… express himself through his music."

"Music?"

"He plays guitar," Baek remarked, looking up at the blue sky, "He's actually quite good. Hwoarang is very musical, but he doesn't like showing it. He does music as an elective subject at school, but he will never do his homework for it here. He'll always do it at school, because he's that… 'shy', I suppose, about his talent, around me. So he hides it."

She paused, taking in the information, before opening her mouth once more, "Can he sing?"

"From the snippets I've heard, yeah. Sometimes I come home too early from grocery shopping or from a business trip, and I would be able to hear him from outside. But all noise from inside the dojang ceases the moment he hears the car pull up, or when he hears my key go into the lock. He's that paranoid."

"He should not hide his gift."

"Mm," Baek remarked, nodding, looking to the Greek girl, "He shouldn't hide it at all."

His fingers were blistered and burning by the time the other two dojang inhabitants showed up. He swallowed the pain, however, and opened the door with a casual greeting, bowing slightly, and stepping out, helping the struggling girl with the heavy equipment. She appeared to be quite trained since early this morning, and he had noted this fact, wondering what the reasons could have been.

Once everything had been dumped into the back corner, Baek looked to his two students with a smile of appraisal, "Thanks you two. Now, what do you say to getting out of this damn place for a while? Maybe to a park or something. We can bike ride around. And we can have lunch there, and then come back around dinner time and pig out on junk food."

Hwoarang, liking the junk food part of the bargain, grinned and nodded a little, "I like that idea."

Razer rubbed her wrist. It was still a little sore from moving everything, "So do I."

"Then it's settled," Doo San smiled.

"Hwoarang. Helmet."

"But it screws up my hair!"

"Unless you want a screwed up head as well, I advise you put on your helmet."

Rolling his eyes, the 14-year-old shoved the bulky item upon his head, thereafter looking at his master, bored.

"Clip it up too."

"It'll pinch my throat!"

"Do it!"

He sighed and did as he was asked, wincing when he indeed felt the pinch momentarily. Thereafter, he turned, seeing his best friend do likewise, before taking off down the concrete track. Feeling like a dork for having the 'unnecessary' equipment on, he took off after her, pushing down on the pedals, "Razer, wait up!"

She slowed her pedalling until he was comfortably riding by her side, "What?"

Quickly looking over his shoulder, hands still firmly gripping the handlebars, he spoke, "Let's race!"

"Alright. Where to?"

Baek interfered, riding past them, "Last one to the next available and desolate picnic table has to carry the basket, blanket and bags back to the car…" He cleared his throat, still pedalling with difficulty. He was carrying all of those items at the moment, and it was taking its toll, "And rest assured… it won't be me!"

"You're on, Baek!" Hwoarang growled, fire lighting up within his eyes. He took off, and with ease, managed to overtake his master. Razer eventually joined him quickly, a small smile on her visage as she steadily rode next to him.

The tyres slowly grinded over the concrete and thin twigs, snapping in half upon impact. Leaves coated the sides of the paths, which fel from the canopy of trees decorating either side. Their branches caved inwards, creating a tunnel-like effect, the sun dispersed on the ground in patches and spots. The pair knew that their master wouldn't win, simply because the weight he was currently carrying would slow him down.

Soon enough, they had lost their master. They travelled over the hills and far away, leaving the two of them alone. Silence filled the air. Not even the fauna (wherever they were) in the area dared to chirp or squeak; nor did the leaves rustle in the gentle wind. It was as though sound had been completely muted in the world, leaving only the visuals.

The Korean peeked at her from the corner of his sienna eyes. Her hair was tied pack in a low plait, the end of which was shorter than usual due to her haircut a few days ago. He was still getting used to it. She had white sneakers on, dark blue jeans that came up to her knees, a sleeveless white shirt, and of course, the scarf he made; however it was tied around her wrist. It was way too hot to wear that today. He had noticed the sun's effects on her, for there was some sweat visible on her arms.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, pedalling steadily.

He refocussed his attention on the turning pathway, manoeuvring the handlebars to make the turn, "Nothing."

"You seem quite distracted."

"I'm not!" he answered cheerily, sitting a little taller in his seat, scratching the back of his head with one hand, "What makes you think I a-…" He slowed down a bit and turned to look at her, deciding this would be a good time to make conversation. When he did though, his eyes were drawn to somewhere other than her face, and he tried to look away, growling at himself, but failed.

Perplexed by his sudden silence and his sudden slow in pedalling, Razer stopped entirely, one foot on the ground, and looked over her shoulder. She looked at him for a moment before raising an eyebrow and speaking, "What?"

"Um… Nice bra strap."

Her head snapped to her arm. Blushing, she pulled it back up, "Thanks."

"No problem," he sped up a little, climbing to the top of another hill.

Still blushing, she noticed that he had stopped at the top of the hill, was waiting for her, and searching for Baek. His eyes widened a little. Curious, she stopped and looked over her shoulder, wondering what was going on. She coughed slightly, ignoring the laughter that was directed at her from the devil within, "I guess we've really left him far behind…"

"Yeah," he raised his eyebrows a little before looking back at her, grinning, "I guess he's too old to compete with us."

"Possibly."

They remained where they were at the top of the hill. She was looking behind them, and he was sitting on his bike, staring into space, drumming his fingers on the handlebar, whilst thinking to himself, Maybe I should tell her how I feel. I mean, I've done it before. It's not that hard, right? Maybe this time, as I'm rejected, I won't be laughed at.

"Tae-Yang smiled at me yesterday."

He looked up at her, "Oh… You still like him?"

"Yes."

He nodded a little, feeling something peculiar clutch at his chest. He didn't like the feeling, for it reminded him of his parents and the horrors that occurred to them, that he was forced to see with his own eyes. It was the definition of pain, and he could not imagine anything that was parallel to it, let alone stronger. It felt like his heart was being beaten black and blue. Silently breathing through it, lifting his head a little, he only just noticed that she was looking at him, "What?"

"I said, 'not as much as I used to, though'."

"How come?" he inquired, turning away, looking forward, ready to go down the hill and feel the wind rush against him. How could he have missed such a vital piece of information as that? He couldn't help but grin subtly, and to hide it, he tugged at the tip of his flipped-up collar.

The Greek also turned away, readjusting her position on the bike, standing next to him, "Because, you were right. I was wrong. I was blinded. You weren't lying or anything… You were telling the truth. You were looking out for me, because like you were saying, he's not everything he's cracked up to be. He is not who I thought he was, let alone as nice or interesting and so on, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Besides, there are better boys," she said, smiling, "Like you for example."

What? He thought, pausing, thereafter speaking verbally,"Me?"

"Yes. You actually care. From what I have seen of Tae-Yang, he does not. And you're very sweet, considerate, kind… You're thoughtful. And let's face it," she chuckled a little, jabbing him in the arm, "You're also quite nice to look at…" she scratched her cheek shyly before continuing on, "Whichever female you will eventually call special and your own… will be very lucky. You'll make her very happy."

He couldn't hide the smile. The pain eased a little. He bowed his head slightly in gratitude, "Thanks."

Turning away wholly, she leant forward, ready to go down the hill, "Let's go. I see a spare table up ahead."

She took off in a hurry, hearing her friend follow behind him. The wind rushed by her, rustling her clothing and her hair. Against her face, it felt like a burning sensation, though it was pleasant. She began to laugh when Hwoarang whizzed by her, almost losing control of the steering, thereafter claiming that it wasn't funny. He gained control once again though, managing to stabilise his previously flailing balance in the process.

As she joined his side again, she squinted, peering at the person who had magically reached the table before the two of them. Perplexed, she blinked several times. No one had cut in front of them during their conversation, and no one was coming from the other side… How did this happen? Were they invisible before or something?

"I don't believe it…" the Korean muttered.

"It is Baek," she murmured.

Indeed it was. The Tae Kwon Do teacher was adjusting the blanket on the table, smoothing it, making sure it was creaseless. The corners were draping over the wood aimlessly, completely still due to the absence of wind. Plastic cups were out, as were plates; all stacked on top of one another, teetering slightly. Soon enough, the man looked up, noticing his two students approach, and grinned. Despite the distance, both could still see it.

He suddenly yelled out, "I told you I wouldn't be carrying them back! Remember our deal!"

Both teenagers swore in unison – in pitch, tone, volume, speed and dynamics – and cycled towards Doo San.

It had been a tie. Both had to carry the things back when the time to leave came.

But for now, the pair were busy passing the soccer ball between one another. Baek simply watched on, sipping on his fanta soft drink occasionally. They were all talking with one another, however the teacher rarely pitched in, simply letting his two students interact friendlily. It was such a welcome change from the former battles a year ago, and he was quite pleased with how the foreigner had settled into their humble home. However, he couldn't help but wonder why she had not asked to be returned to Greece yet. As a matter of fact, she never spoke of the country, let alone her family, and this concerned him.

Something he liked dearly was knowledge. He had always been interested in foreign places, which was why he jumped at the opportunity to travel to Japan in the second King Of Iron Fist Tournament. He had been to American briefly with his tournament friend, Michelle Chang; and even saw a little of Canada with her. He liked to learn, and he had been tempted numerous times to ask what it was like in Greece, if only to gather information on the place itself. But to think that she never once spoke of her family… She is still only a child. She should've at least missed her parents and wondered how they were. But such reminiscence, such a thought appeared to have never come across her face. Not even simple or trivial descriptions.

And he wanted to know why.

He looked away from the pair and looked up to the sky, a forlorn look on his face. Hwoarang did not relinquish information on his parents for so, so long. Did he have to wait this long for Razer too? Surely if there was a problem, something would have been done about it back home… And if there was a problem, then she could confide in him. He knew that she understood this, but wondered if she would ever implement it. His Korean student held it in for such a long period of times because he did not want the nightmarish memories to rise again, especially whilst they were so scarily fresh. But in return, Doo San gave Hwoarang comfort, and a Father figure. He taught him, and continued to teach him about life. He told him about his own misfortunes, like the accidental murder of his Father by his own hands and feet, during a sparring session.

They together had made a small family. The Father and the son. They knew they weren't truly blood bonded, but they reinforced the connection nonetheless and kept it sacred. When would the newest addition to their household join their family, and reinforce her connections with them? Was she unsure of them? Was she unwilling? Was she afraid?

"I did not think you would be able to do that…"

The girl's voice snapped him back to reality. He looked back to the pair, quirking an eyebrow. His 'son' had his hands on his hips firmly and was breathing a little hard, as though he had just done some type of physical activity. His chin was high, and a small smirk was on his face, "What, you want me to do it again or something? 'Cause I can."

"Such a show off," Razer remarked, folding her arms across her stomach, "Go on then. Impress me."

That sounded like a challenge. Baek knew he liked challenges.

The 14-year-old nodded, stretching his arms a little, before taking a step back, away from her. As he did, he launches himself into a back flip, something his master was surprised to see. His strong arms supported him for the few fleeting moments his top half was facing down, before they were in the air too. The small gesture had his form spin in the air, and before long, he landed on his feet, smirk still evident. It expanded slightly when she cheered.

Doo San interjected, "Such a show off indeed, but when did you learn to do that?"

Hwoarang shrugged, "Meh, playing around at school mainly."

"I'm impressed."

He stretched his arms back over his head, causing his black shirt to rise, "It's amazing what you can learn when you're bored."

"You look like a cheerleader."

He grinned and stuck his tongue out at his master, before addressing said tongue to Razer in a teasing fashion, for she had giggled at the man's statement.

The 40-year-old lifted the can to his lips, hiding a smile behind it as he sipped. He watched the girl's gaze drop towards the newly showing skin, before she looked away hurriedly, her cheeks turning a light tinge of red. He almost choked trying to hold in his laughter, as he thought, This is just too adorable. I know he likes her and thinks it is hopeless, but he has another thing coming.

They went back to kicking the ball around for a while. Before long, another pair of people came walking down the concrete pathway, only from the opposite direction in which they walked. He watched them come, and then realised that it was Tae-Yang and a young woman. He bowed his head in silent greeting, before returning his attention to his two students.

It seemed that someone else had noticed their presence. He watched as the Greek waved at him (not her) shyly, before gravitating towards him. She was oblivious to the snickering glare of Tae-Yang's accomplice, the hurtful words that the man was saying about her (such as "lovesick puppy… needs to know when to quit"), and Hwoarang's frustrated stare.

They spoke for a while. Baek continued to sip on his fanta, inwardly shaking his head at the situation. There was a ridiculous amount of prissy, insulting murmurs coming from the woman… which was fair enough, to an extent. Razer shouldn't approach him anymore, she knew that he had a girlfriend. Perhaps this was some twisted way to train herself to stop liking him. As for Tae-Yang himself, he was doing a ridiculous amount of muscle flexing.

The entire situation irked Hwoarang, and the teacher noticed this. He was kicking the ball around, moving it up to his knee and his chest, trying to distract himself, but it seemed he couldn't tear his eyes away from the situation. Sienna eyes were glued to them, narrowing. Baek was sure that if he was standing in front of the 14-year-old, he would be able to see the frustration boiling in them, as well as the jealousy that was swirling in the pit of his stomach.

He didn't expect him to walk over to them, though, and speak, arms firmly folded across his chest. He gritted out in a 'nice' tone, "Don't you have something better to do than lead her on, Tae-Yang?"

Tae-Yang smirked, "Lead her on? I don't know what you're talking about, so move your scrawny ass along, Hwoarang."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he seethed, clenching his fists in his pockets, "Just stop it okay?"

"As if I had any interest in her in the first place," he scorned, chuckling. His eyes roamed over the girl's form, subconsciously causing her to shrink back. She was looking between them both, and occasionally looked at his girlfriend, who was laughing, "I mean… come on… Who'd want that? She's nothing to look at, and she has the personality of a twig."

"I'm struggling to find out what's so appealing about you. You've got a tiny brain, and it's stored in your dick rather than your head. You're a selfish user, only going out in the world to get sex, and maybe even some money from your endless array of girlfriends; because the whore clinging on your arm sure isn't the same slut I saw picking you up last training session. I guess 'beauty' is only skin deep…" the 'placid' look on his face melted away as he spoke, and was replaced with a dark, challenging sneer. He did notice a questioning look flash across the girl's face at a part of his statement.

It seemed that the announcement had rolled off of Tae-Yang's back. He was too busy observing Razer from the corner of his eyes, who had now stepped several paces back, quite unsure of the situation. He focused his attention back on the contestant, chuckling, "Flat. No wonder you can't get it up."

"I'd rather flat than grossly oversized and fake."

This time, the woman spoke, raising her head. She stamped her foot down, "You watch your mouth!"

"Oh my," Hwoarang mocked dully, pretending to be transfixed with the woman's breasts, "Look at the silicone wobble. I am so turned on."

She growled, looked to Tae-Yang, and pointed at him, "Why are you just standing there?! Defend my honour!"

Tae-Yang said nothing to her, nor about her, and merely furrowed his eyebrows, "You're stupid, kid, y'know that?"

"I'd rather be dumb and care about whoever I end up with rather than use every girl I ever come across like you."

He hissed angrily and clenched his fists, lifting them from his sides, and moved to slip into stance. Hwoarang motioned to do the same, pulling his own hands out of his pockets; slightly surprised, but glad nonetheless. He wanted nothing more than to slam his foot into his opponents jaw, and although they were evenly matched by belt, he had more skill than his opponent. Though… Tae-Yang was also older and stronger than him. So it was fairly balanced.

Baek noticed this from his distance away and called out immediately, "Hwoarang! Tae-Yang! Stand down!"

Both chose to ignore him. Caught up in his desires, the 14-year-old threw the first attack, sending his right leg towards his head. He couldn't wait until it connected, he honestly couldn't. But sadly, for him, it never did, for Razer interjected, parrying the blow, almost tipping him over. He quickly dropped his stance and looked to her, surprised and seemingly hurt. After all, the whole ordeal started out in trying to defend her.

"Please," she said to him, frowning.

Currently being the only Greek word he knew, for she had said it enough times and told him what it meant; he nodded slightly, defeated and dejected, and walked away, picking up his soccer ball as he went. Though not physically struck by anyone, the word was enough to sting like a bruise. Carrying the novelty item in his right arm, he went towards his master, mentally preparing himself for scolding, and plastered on a not-phased face.

He sat next to him, holding the ball in his hands, looking at it. Baek eventually cleared his throat, and he looked up at him, awaiting his verbal punishment. When he did speak though, he didn't expect to hear what he heard, "Good job, kid. Just remember that violence isn't the answer."

"Mm." His heart still felt black and blue.

Silence.

"Baek, can I tell you something, and you promise you won't tell anyone else?"

"I already know," he said, smiling.

He scratched his cheek, "How do I get her to like me?"

"You can't 'make' someone like you. You need to give it time."

"What if I build my muscles up?" he suggested randomly, causing Baek to blink repeatedly, "That seems to be the only advantage Tae-Yang has over me."

"You can try it if you want, but I don't think it really matters."

"Mmm."

Eventually, Tae-Yang and the woman left. Razer returned to the two of them, also having a small smile on her face, "Well, what do we do now?"

Baek stood and stretched, "I think its time to go home."

The next day crawled in slowly. Still, before long, Baek found himself with his oldest student, in the dojang, standing before him. He shook his head, confused as to how he and his Korean student came to this situation. He crossed his arms, talking slowly and lowly, "Please, remind me… How did you trick me into this predicament, Hwoarang?"

He stood there before his master, his body stiff, his arms by his sides, "I didn't trick you. You agreed to do this."

Shrugging slowly and spreading his legs apart a little, getting into a more comfortable standing position, he spoke once again, "Very well, but be warned, you said that you wanted this done quickly and efficiently. This regime broke me when I was preparing for the Tournament, and it may do the same to you. It will test both your body and your mind. You will not only battle me, or the weights, or whatever training I put you through; but you will also battle yourself."

He listened to his teacher prattle on, nodding where appropriate, and remained completely still. As he did though, he questioned his motives. It was such a stupid, trivial motive to go through all of this just to impress a girl (or two, if he was lucky with Hyori). It's not like he needed to do this – he wasn't fat, he was fit, and so on.

And so it started. First off were one hundred push-ups. Not the worst of tasks, but it wasn't pleasant. Hwoarang regardlessly bit the bullet and did it, closing his eyes in an attempt to further his concentration. Something that was different, though, was the Baek hovering about him, pushing him on, practically… yelling at him. He already knew that it was nothing personal, but somehow, it drove him on. Well, he couldn't exactly complain. He didn't know what he was in for, aside from a battle against himself.

"I want you working like you have never worked before," Baek growled lowly, "Do not stop."