Sleepwake (Part 3/?)
See Part 1 for disclaimer
"Please tell me where Jin Kazama lives," Hwoarang asked politely of the unfortunate student whom he had pinned against the wall. He didn't really need to say "or else", and besides, that sounded like playground bullying; Hwoarang prided himself on having much more style than that.
The student wheezed a little. Hwoarang waited patiently.
"Uh, he- Um. Jin? Lives in, uh- ::wheeze::"
Hwoarang realized the fact that his hand was wrapped around the student's neck was probably having an effect on his speech. He loosened his grip.
"Better?"
"Um, yeah, thanks. J-Jin lives in room two-fifteen, I-I think. Uh, sir."
Hwoarang released the student, smiling.
"Thank you," he said.
"::wheeze::"
Calmness personified, Hwoarang strode through the carpeted halls of the dorm building. Two-thirty, two-twenty-three, two-ten, oh wait. Here it was.
Hwoarang jiggled the doorknob. It was locked. He knocked on the door. No reply.
Hwoarang growled in frustration, the image of his rival cowering under bedcovers making his blood burn.
"Open the hell up, you spineless rat!" he shouted, while pulling out a lock-picking case. He kneeled so that he was at eye level with the doorknob.
For Kazama's sake, he'd better not be hiding in there . . .
"Who are you calling a spineless rat?"
Out of nowhere came a voice with high-pitched wrath. Hwoarang looked up and saw a tiny Chinese girl with two gravity-defying pigtails sprouting from the sides of her head. She stood over him, her hands on her hips.
Hwoarang gave her the once-over and turned back to his work, inserting a thin strip of metal into the keyhole of the doorknob. Another nosy neighbor. Couldn't a man pick a lock in peace?
"What are you doing?!" the girl asked. Hwoarang was reminded of a tea kettle's whistling.
"It's really none of your business," he answered absentmindedly. He almost had it unlocked. . . just a little bit more to the left. . .damn. He wished the girl would move, she was blocking the light.
"None of my business?! THAT'S MY DOOR, YOU MORON!"
He winced, dropping his pick.
"Hey, you look familiar."
Hwoarang finally turned his attention to her, confused by the sudden change in topic.
"_What?_" he said. It was less of a question, and more of warning: if you waste my time, you will regret it.
"Oh, I know, I know! You were one of the tournament finalists!"
What, the third Iron Fist tourney? Come to think of it, she looked like that hyperactive firefly of girl, Ling something-
Stop. What did she say before that?
"This is _your_ door?" said Hwoarang. Had it been one of his gang members in the girl's place, they would've known from his tone of voice that the best thing to do now would be to slowly back away while answering very respectfully.
Firefly-girl did neither of those things.
"Duh! Who else?" she said, and crossed her arms in front of her. She looked at him in a manner that suggested he was as intelligent as the doorknob he was trying to pick.
"Jin Kazama lives here."
Firefly-girl rolled her eyes.
"No he doesn't."
"Yes. He does."
"No he doesn't."
"Yes he- Look. If 215's not Kazama's room, then where does he live?" Hwoarang ran a tense hand through his hair. Mental chant: I do not hit women. I do not hit women.
"Jin lives in room 215, in Dorm _B_, or E, or something. This is Dorm _A_."
Hwoarang gawked at her. The girl merely grinned. Was she enjoying this?
"Why the hell didn't he _say_ that?"
"Huh?"
Hwoarang turned away from Firefly-girl. He was going to find that asthmatic little student and teach him to be _specific_.
The girl watched Hwoarang stomp away, waving cheerfully goodbye. Under her breath, she snickered:
"Gotchya, sucker."
* * *
Xiaoyu resisted the temptation to burst into hysterical laughter. Sobering, she stepped into the bathroom across the hall from room 217.
"Coast is all clear," she said, lifting Jin's wrists from where he lay limply on the tiled floor. She dragged him back to room 215, which, in reality, was Jin's room.
"You'll have to tell me about Copperhead sometime. He's pretty cute," she muttered, and began to search Jin's pockets as un-invasively as was possible.
"Good thing he didn't see me push you into the bathroom. I think I deserve an award for that performance, don't you? You should have seen the look on his face- oh, here it is."
Xiaoyu carefully extracted Jin's key from his pant pocket, silently chiding herself for the blush that crept onto her face. She unlocked the door.
"Um, in we go." Xiaoyu pulled Jin into the room, kicked the door shut, and deposited him onto the bed. Only then did she realize the damage done.
It was as though a small tornado had swept through the place. Cabinet drawers had been emptied and left overturned haphazardly on the floor. Paper, clothing, pieces of furniture were strewn all over. In one corner, shiny blue shards of what once was a lamp glittered against a heap of fluffy towels. Nothing had been left untouched.
Xiaoyu turned slowly in a full circle, her eyes becoming even wider than usual, her mouth open in amazement.
"Oh God, Jin," she whispered, "What is going _on_?"
Author's notes:
Yes, I am evil. But let's hope that I'll post Part 4 sooner than I posted this one ^_^ (sorry for the delay). This one took longer to write because Hwoarang just didn't feel like cooperating with me: shame on Bob!
So the alert peeps out there probably noticed that I said Hwoarang got into the cab twenty minutes after Xiaoyu and Jin already arrived at the 'Shima Dorms. Give yourselves a pat on the back folks, and if you didn't notice, don't worry, I didn't either ::sheepish grin.:: My explanation? Well Jin is pretty darn heavy, with all that muscle and everything (::drool::), it'd probably take Xiaoyu quite a while to carry him that far, taking frequent rests and possible lack of elevators into account.
Anyways, muchos thanks to the wonderful wonderful people who reviewed this story. Big group hug, guys!
Constructive criticism will be printed out and framed. Flames will be used to toast marshmallows. Yum.
See Part 1 for disclaimer
"Please tell me where Jin Kazama lives," Hwoarang asked politely of the unfortunate student whom he had pinned against the wall. He didn't really need to say "or else", and besides, that sounded like playground bullying; Hwoarang prided himself on having much more style than that.
The student wheezed a little. Hwoarang waited patiently.
"Uh, he- Um. Jin? Lives in, uh- ::wheeze::"
Hwoarang realized the fact that his hand was wrapped around the student's neck was probably having an effect on his speech. He loosened his grip.
"Better?"
"Um, yeah, thanks. J-Jin lives in room two-fifteen, I-I think. Uh, sir."
Hwoarang released the student, smiling.
"Thank you," he said.
"::wheeze::"
Calmness personified, Hwoarang strode through the carpeted halls of the dorm building. Two-thirty, two-twenty-three, two-ten, oh wait. Here it was.
Hwoarang jiggled the doorknob. It was locked. He knocked on the door. No reply.
Hwoarang growled in frustration, the image of his rival cowering under bedcovers making his blood burn.
"Open the hell up, you spineless rat!" he shouted, while pulling out a lock-picking case. He kneeled so that he was at eye level with the doorknob.
For Kazama's sake, he'd better not be hiding in there . . .
"Who are you calling a spineless rat?"
Out of nowhere came a voice with high-pitched wrath. Hwoarang looked up and saw a tiny Chinese girl with two gravity-defying pigtails sprouting from the sides of her head. She stood over him, her hands on her hips.
Hwoarang gave her the once-over and turned back to his work, inserting a thin strip of metal into the keyhole of the doorknob. Another nosy neighbor. Couldn't a man pick a lock in peace?
"What are you doing?!" the girl asked. Hwoarang was reminded of a tea kettle's whistling.
"It's really none of your business," he answered absentmindedly. He almost had it unlocked. . . just a little bit more to the left. . .damn. He wished the girl would move, she was blocking the light.
"None of my business?! THAT'S MY DOOR, YOU MORON!"
He winced, dropping his pick.
"Hey, you look familiar."
Hwoarang finally turned his attention to her, confused by the sudden change in topic.
"_What?_" he said. It was less of a question, and more of warning: if you waste my time, you will regret it.
"Oh, I know, I know! You were one of the tournament finalists!"
What, the third Iron Fist tourney? Come to think of it, she looked like that hyperactive firefly of girl, Ling something-
Stop. What did she say before that?
"This is _your_ door?" said Hwoarang. Had it been one of his gang members in the girl's place, they would've known from his tone of voice that the best thing to do now would be to slowly back away while answering very respectfully.
Firefly-girl did neither of those things.
"Duh! Who else?" she said, and crossed her arms in front of her. She looked at him in a manner that suggested he was as intelligent as the doorknob he was trying to pick.
"Jin Kazama lives here."
Firefly-girl rolled her eyes.
"No he doesn't."
"Yes. He does."
"No he doesn't."
"Yes he- Look. If 215's not Kazama's room, then where does he live?" Hwoarang ran a tense hand through his hair. Mental chant: I do not hit women. I do not hit women.
"Jin lives in room 215, in Dorm _B_, or E, or something. This is Dorm _A_."
Hwoarang gawked at her. The girl merely grinned. Was she enjoying this?
"Why the hell didn't he _say_ that?"
"Huh?"
Hwoarang turned away from Firefly-girl. He was going to find that asthmatic little student and teach him to be _specific_.
The girl watched Hwoarang stomp away, waving cheerfully goodbye. Under her breath, she snickered:
"Gotchya, sucker."
* * *
Xiaoyu resisted the temptation to burst into hysterical laughter. Sobering, she stepped into the bathroom across the hall from room 217.
"Coast is all clear," she said, lifting Jin's wrists from where he lay limply on the tiled floor. She dragged him back to room 215, which, in reality, was Jin's room.
"You'll have to tell me about Copperhead sometime. He's pretty cute," she muttered, and began to search Jin's pockets as un-invasively as was possible.
"Good thing he didn't see me push you into the bathroom. I think I deserve an award for that performance, don't you? You should have seen the look on his face- oh, here it is."
Xiaoyu carefully extracted Jin's key from his pant pocket, silently chiding herself for the blush that crept onto her face. She unlocked the door.
"Um, in we go." Xiaoyu pulled Jin into the room, kicked the door shut, and deposited him onto the bed. Only then did she realize the damage done.
It was as though a small tornado had swept through the place. Cabinet drawers had been emptied and left overturned haphazardly on the floor. Paper, clothing, pieces of furniture were strewn all over. In one corner, shiny blue shards of what once was a lamp glittered against a heap of fluffy towels. Nothing had been left untouched.
Xiaoyu turned slowly in a full circle, her eyes becoming even wider than usual, her mouth open in amazement.
"Oh God, Jin," she whispered, "What is going _on_?"
Author's notes:
Yes, I am evil. But let's hope that I'll post Part 4 sooner than I posted this one ^_^ (sorry for the delay). This one took longer to write because Hwoarang just didn't feel like cooperating with me: shame on Bob!
So the alert peeps out there probably noticed that I said Hwoarang got into the cab twenty minutes after Xiaoyu and Jin already arrived at the 'Shima Dorms. Give yourselves a pat on the back folks, and if you didn't notice, don't worry, I didn't either ::sheepish grin.:: My explanation? Well Jin is pretty darn heavy, with all that muscle and everything (::drool::), it'd probably take Xiaoyu quite a while to carry him that far, taking frequent rests and possible lack of elevators into account.
Anyways, muchos thanks to the wonderful wonderful people who reviewed this story. Big group hug, guys!
Constructive criticism will be printed out and framed. Flames will be used to toast marshmallows. Yum.