Hwoarang still had tears in his eyes by the time he arrived at the
apartment building. He pulled his bag further up onto his shoulder and
pressed the intercom button. It crackled a bit before a voice came back.
"Yeah?" it quizzed.
"Um, it's Hwoarang, the new tenant?"
There was a pause and more crackling before the voice came back.
"Oh yea, I remember, you're the kid the birds at the orphanage sent right?"
"Yeah, that's me."
"Hold on kid, I'll buzz ya in."
The door buzzed and Hwoarang pushed it open, dragging his single suitcase with him. Someone Hwoarang could only presume was the landlord stood to greet him.
"Bernie West's the name," he said, taking Hwoarang's hand in one of his greasy paws and pumping it up and down heartily. He handed Hwoarang a key with '203' printed on the overly large tag. Hwoarang thanked him and dragged his suitcase over to the elevator.
"That doesn't work" Bernie informed him "she gets stuck about halfway up the shaft. I've been meaning to get her fixed but..." he trailed off, and Hwoarang sighed exasperatedly.
"Need any help with that?" Bernie asked, motioning to the suitcase.
"No thanks" Hwoarang said, dreading the thought of the mans greasy mitts all over his possessions "I can manage." He heaved the case up the stairs, checking the fading signs at every floor, and finally, after four flights, found the floor he needed. 203 was halfway down and by the looks of things (and the distinct absence of a door on 204) he had the floor to himself.
He opened the door and stepped into the apartment. It was depressingly bare, but ever the optimist, Hwoarang stuck to the theory that paint and carpets could work wonders. The main room had a worn two-seater couch and a phone on the small table at its side. He sighed miserably when he realised there was no TV, and went to check out the kitchen, which was small, cramped and painted sunshine yellow. 'Oh well, at least it has a fridge' he thought. It also had a cooker, but he wasn't brave enough to try using it yet since it looked as though it had been there since the French Revolution. What would become his bedroom was so far the best room in the house. It had a double bed with an iron frame and a mattress, a wardrobe and a huge window looking out onto a courtyard at the back of the building. The courtyard looked as though it was privately owned, the metal railings around it were a dead giveaway.
Hwoarang dumped his suitcase in the bedroom and wandered into the bathroom. A shower, sink and toilet, all he really needed. His stomach groaned at him painfully. 'Pizza' he thought. He went back to the sitting room and lifted the phones receiver. There was no dialling tone. He swore when he realised the connection cord was broken and decided to go out into town and find a pizza place, he had his heart set on a pepperoni and tomato fourteen inch. He picked up his keys and left, locking up on the way out. There may not have been anyone else on the floor, but he wasn't about to take any chances. He put the key in his jeans pocket and went down the stairs, bumping into Bernie on the way out.
"Where are you off to?" his landlord asked, wiping a greasy hand across his vest which was probably supposed to be white but had a sickening brown-grey tint to it.
"I just felt like pizza for dinner" Hwoarang explained "I would have called out but the phones connection is bust." Bernie nodded. "Yeah, I've been meaning to get that fixed. Anyway, there's a good pizza place in town called Tony's Toppings, check it out."
Hwoarang thanked him and left, going round to the back of the building and past the courtyard his bedroom window over looked. He glanced in through the bars and saw a figure performing some kind of martial arts manoeuvres. Hwoarang stopped to watch. The figure punched in front of himself, then turned, doing the same again, then leapt up and did an amazingly impressive high kick. He landed just as gracefully, and spotted Hwoarang at the fence. Hwoarang smiled nervously and he stranger smiled back. He walked over to Hwoarang and greeted him.
"You're new in town, right?" he asked. Hwoarang nodded.
"I've just moved into the apartments next door, I'm Hwoarang."
"Baek, nice to meet you Hwoarang." Hwoarang smiled to seem friendly, though at the moment he was wary of everyone in the neighbourhood and for all he knew, this Baek was a crazy axe-wielding murderer. Bake leaned against the iron fence and pulled his jet-black hair out of the ponytail, then retied it neater.
"What was that? What you were doing before, I mean" Hwoarang asked.
"Tae Kwon Do" Baek answered, "martial arts, I specialise in it."
"Oh" Hwoarang said, feeling like kicking himself at how stupid he probably sounded, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.
"Why? Are you interested in learning?"
Hwoarang looked up. "For real?"
"Sure. I've not had a decent student in a while, I'll be happy to mentor you, hell, I'll do it for free."
Hwoarang was a little taken aback. Tae Kwon Do looked like fun, and the last thing he wanted was to be sitting o his arse all day at home with nothing to do.
"Okay" he said, accepting the invitation "when do I start?"
"Tomorrow morning if you like, at about eleven?"
He nodded "I'll be there."
"Great!" Baek exclaimed, "I'll look forward to it. See you tomorrow then." Hwoarang turned and left, bidding Baek goodbye and made his way into town on the lookout for Tony's. He found it just a little way from the apartment building, and at first glance thought it would be a better idea to try elsewhere. The restaurant looked run-down and uninviting from the outside, but through the windows, he saw customers sat at the tables, laughing and generally having a good time. Plus, the food looked irresistible. He went I and sat at an empty table, waiting for someone to take his order. A woman came over in time. She was skinny with curly brown hair and huge framed glasses. She tottered over in her ridiculously high heels and produced a little pad and pencil.
"What'll it be sugar?" she asked brightly, grinning widely revealing her dental braces. She was probably no older than eighteen, but had the makeup application skills of your average six year old.
"Pepperoni and tomato, fourteen inch please."
"Deep pan or Italian?"
"Deep pan I guess..."
"Anything to drink?"
Hwoarang looked up at her, She didn't know his age, it was worth a shot.
"Lager?"
She laughed at him, her grin spreading wider and making her look like a crazed clown. She sighed at him amusedly.
"How old are you honey?"
"Eighteen" he lied.
She giggled again. "I don't think so, but tell you what, since you were bold enough to try, have one anyway, you look like you need it."
He gave her a cute little smile and thanked her, and she disappeared, coming back a minute later with a bottle and a glass.
He ignored the glass and drank straight from the bottle. The last time he had had alcohol was when he and Kei had been about twelve. They had somehow managed to 'acquire' some Jack Daniels from the off licence down the road from the orphanage, and Sister Clarise had caught them drinking it in the bathroom. He had suffered the worst hangover in history and vowed never to drink the stuff straight again. He stared out over the other occupants of the restaurant, all looking relatively friendly and chatting to each other. He gaze fell upon a table a little way from his, occupied by three boys of about his age. They were looking around cautiously, and had a shifty aura about them. He grinned. He knew street punks when he saw them, and also knew that, if luck should come his way, he would probably be one himself soon. That lifestyle had always fascinated him, the very idea of adventure made him excited. One of the boys looked him square in the eye, the corner of his mouth turning up a little into a sly smile. He nodded at Hwoarang, and he nodded back. The other boy turned to his companions and whispered something, motioning in Hwoarang's direction with his eyes. The two others looked at him, and he started to feel uneasy.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his waitress tottering back over with his pizza. She set it down and glared at the boys.
"Don't you go getting yourself mixed up with the likes of them" she warned "they're bad boys honey, all gonna be inside by the time they're twenty if they carry on that way." She went over to their table and asked for their bill money. The boy who had spotted Hwoarang handed it over and they stood up o leave. He flicked his long, blonde hair over his shoulder and smirked at Hwoarang. His look said 'I'll-be-seeing-you-soon', and Hwoarang sincerely hoped he would not be seeing him, ever again for that matter. He wolfed his pizza, washing it down with the rest of his beer, left the money on the table including a tip for the waitress, and left. He looked both ways up the street before walking any distance away from the door, and satisfied no one was around he made his way home. It was dark by now, and he hurried down the alley next to the apartment building, past Baek's yard and to the doors of the apartments. He went in quickly, and screamed when a hand planted itself on his shoulder.
"Someone was just here, dropped some things of for you."
He turned, relieved that it was only Bernie.
"Shit Bernie, don't do that okay?"
"Sorry kid, but some Sister has just been here and left some stuff of yours. Sister Ruso, or Reso, something like that."
"Rose, and thanks Bernie." He took he boxes, balancing them precariously, up the stairs and to his room. They contained some things he had left, little trinkets mostly but some clothes too and a few plates and cups that the Sisters had collected for him. He left the boxes in the sitting room and dug out a towel. The shower called. He went to the bathroom and stripped off, deciding to burn the shirt he had been wearing of at least run bleach over the part where Bernie had touched it. He turned the shower on and climbed in.
"SHIT!!! FUCK!!! COLD!!! COOOOOOOOLD!!!!!!" he called out, and leapt out of it. He turned it off angrily, and stalked back across the hall to the bedroom. He collapsed on the bed and curled up in the sheets, drifting off into a very pissed off sleep.
***
"I hate this building!!!" Hwoarang screamed when he woke up the next morning, cold and shivering having discovered that the heating had died at some point during the night. He pulled on some jeans and stormed into the living room to make sure. The thermostat was on, but the heating wasn't. He growled angrily and made himself some toast to take his mind off how much he felt like bludgeoning Bernie with his own shoes. The toaster apparently didn't work either, so he ate the bread dry, drank some water and glanced at the clock.10.15 AM, he remembered about arranging to go for a training session with Baek, and groaned. He went back to his room and pulled on a t- shirt, an old Guns n Roses one with the sleeves torn off. He put on his shoes and left the apartment, slamming the door on his way. Bernie was apparently still asleep, but being the big fool he was, hadn't locked the front doors anyway. Hwoarang left the building and went down the alley to Baek's yard.
Baek was already there, kitted out in his Gi and waiting for Hwoarng. He let him in and looked at his choice of clothing.
"Now, I love Guns n Roes as much as the next guy, but you can't really train in those jeans." He disappeared inside his house, then came back, holding a white Gi and hand protectors.
"These will do for now, until you get your own, go and get changed then we can get started."
Hwoarang did as he was told and went into Baek's home. It was nicer than his apartment by far, for a start Baek had decent furniture and carpets. He changed quickly and went back into the courtyard.
"That's more like it, now, follow my lead."
Hwoarang did so, and continued to do so for the next week. But he progressed quickly and was soon winning little sparring matches against Baek. He was proud of himself, and quickly got his own training gear, even bothering to pay extra to get his name embroidered across the back of the blue top half of his training wear. He was equally as please when Baek gave him his own set of keys so he could use the courtyard to train whenever he felt like it.
"You know" Baek said to him one day, after being well and truly wiped out by Hwoarang "You're the best student I've ever had, and I've been mentoring young boys like you since I was nineteen. Well done."
Hwoarant grinned happily. He finally felt fulfilled, and was dying to put his new skills to use. He went home that night in a good mood, and didn't even get pissed when Bernie came up to ask for that months rent. The sitting room was taking shape, although there were numerous pots of paint lying around, and his bedroom was totally finished. At last, the bitch called life was giving him a well-deserved time out.
"Yeah?" it quizzed.
"Um, it's Hwoarang, the new tenant?"
There was a pause and more crackling before the voice came back.
"Oh yea, I remember, you're the kid the birds at the orphanage sent right?"
"Yeah, that's me."
"Hold on kid, I'll buzz ya in."
The door buzzed and Hwoarang pushed it open, dragging his single suitcase with him. Someone Hwoarang could only presume was the landlord stood to greet him.
"Bernie West's the name," he said, taking Hwoarang's hand in one of his greasy paws and pumping it up and down heartily. He handed Hwoarang a key with '203' printed on the overly large tag. Hwoarang thanked him and dragged his suitcase over to the elevator.
"That doesn't work" Bernie informed him "she gets stuck about halfway up the shaft. I've been meaning to get her fixed but..." he trailed off, and Hwoarang sighed exasperatedly.
"Need any help with that?" Bernie asked, motioning to the suitcase.
"No thanks" Hwoarang said, dreading the thought of the mans greasy mitts all over his possessions "I can manage." He heaved the case up the stairs, checking the fading signs at every floor, and finally, after four flights, found the floor he needed. 203 was halfway down and by the looks of things (and the distinct absence of a door on 204) he had the floor to himself.
He opened the door and stepped into the apartment. It was depressingly bare, but ever the optimist, Hwoarang stuck to the theory that paint and carpets could work wonders. The main room had a worn two-seater couch and a phone on the small table at its side. He sighed miserably when he realised there was no TV, and went to check out the kitchen, which was small, cramped and painted sunshine yellow. 'Oh well, at least it has a fridge' he thought. It also had a cooker, but he wasn't brave enough to try using it yet since it looked as though it had been there since the French Revolution. What would become his bedroom was so far the best room in the house. It had a double bed with an iron frame and a mattress, a wardrobe and a huge window looking out onto a courtyard at the back of the building. The courtyard looked as though it was privately owned, the metal railings around it were a dead giveaway.
Hwoarang dumped his suitcase in the bedroom and wandered into the bathroom. A shower, sink and toilet, all he really needed. His stomach groaned at him painfully. 'Pizza' he thought. He went back to the sitting room and lifted the phones receiver. There was no dialling tone. He swore when he realised the connection cord was broken and decided to go out into town and find a pizza place, he had his heart set on a pepperoni and tomato fourteen inch. He picked up his keys and left, locking up on the way out. There may not have been anyone else on the floor, but he wasn't about to take any chances. He put the key in his jeans pocket and went down the stairs, bumping into Bernie on the way out.
"Where are you off to?" his landlord asked, wiping a greasy hand across his vest which was probably supposed to be white but had a sickening brown-grey tint to it.
"I just felt like pizza for dinner" Hwoarang explained "I would have called out but the phones connection is bust." Bernie nodded. "Yeah, I've been meaning to get that fixed. Anyway, there's a good pizza place in town called Tony's Toppings, check it out."
Hwoarang thanked him and left, going round to the back of the building and past the courtyard his bedroom window over looked. He glanced in through the bars and saw a figure performing some kind of martial arts manoeuvres. Hwoarang stopped to watch. The figure punched in front of himself, then turned, doing the same again, then leapt up and did an amazingly impressive high kick. He landed just as gracefully, and spotted Hwoarang at the fence. Hwoarang smiled nervously and he stranger smiled back. He walked over to Hwoarang and greeted him.
"You're new in town, right?" he asked. Hwoarang nodded.
"I've just moved into the apartments next door, I'm Hwoarang."
"Baek, nice to meet you Hwoarang." Hwoarang smiled to seem friendly, though at the moment he was wary of everyone in the neighbourhood and for all he knew, this Baek was a crazy axe-wielding murderer. Bake leaned against the iron fence and pulled his jet-black hair out of the ponytail, then retied it neater.
"What was that? What you were doing before, I mean" Hwoarang asked.
"Tae Kwon Do" Baek answered, "martial arts, I specialise in it."
"Oh" Hwoarang said, feeling like kicking himself at how stupid he probably sounded, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.
"Why? Are you interested in learning?"
Hwoarang looked up. "For real?"
"Sure. I've not had a decent student in a while, I'll be happy to mentor you, hell, I'll do it for free."
Hwoarang was a little taken aback. Tae Kwon Do looked like fun, and the last thing he wanted was to be sitting o his arse all day at home with nothing to do.
"Okay" he said, accepting the invitation "when do I start?"
"Tomorrow morning if you like, at about eleven?"
He nodded "I'll be there."
"Great!" Baek exclaimed, "I'll look forward to it. See you tomorrow then." Hwoarang turned and left, bidding Baek goodbye and made his way into town on the lookout for Tony's. He found it just a little way from the apartment building, and at first glance thought it would be a better idea to try elsewhere. The restaurant looked run-down and uninviting from the outside, but through the windows, he saw customers sat at the tables, laughing and generally having a good time. Plus, the food looked irresistible. He went I and sat at an empty table, waiting for someone to take his order. A woman came over in time. She was skinny with curly brown hair and huge framed glasses. She tottered over in her ridiculously high heels and produced a little pad and pencil.
"What'll it be sugar?" she asked brightly, grinning widely revealing her dental braces. She was probably no older than eighteen, but had the makeup application skills of your average six year old.
"Pepperoni and tomato, fourteen inch please."
"Deep pan or Italian?"
"Deep pan I guess..."
"Anything to drink?"
Hwoarang looked up at her, She didn't know his age, it was worth a shot.
"Lager?"
She laughed at him, her grin spreading wider and making her look like a crazed clown. She sighed at him amusedly.
"How old are you honey?"
"Eighteen" he lied.
She giggled again. "I don't think so, but tell you what, since you were bold enough to try, have one anyway, you look like you need it."
He gave her a cute little smile and thanked her, and she disappeared, coming back a minute later with a bottle and a glass.
He ignored the glass and drank straight from the bottle. The last time he had had alcohol was when he and Kei had been about twelve. They had somehow managed to 'acquire' some Jack Daniels from the off licence down the road from the orphanage, and Sister Clarise had caught them drinking it in the bathroom. He had suffered the worst hangover in history and vowed never to drink the stuff straight again. He stared out over the other occupants of the restaurant, all looking relatively friendly and chatting to each other. He gaze fell upon a table a little way from his, occupied by three boys of about his age. They were looking around cautiously, and had a shifty aura about them. He grinned. He knew street punks when he saw them, and also knew that, if luck should come his way, he would probably be one himself soon. That lifestyle had always fascinated him, the very idea of adventure made him excited. One of the boys looked him square in the eye, the corner of his mouth turning up a little into a sly smile. He nodded at Hwoarang, and he nodded back. The other boy turned to his companions and whispered something, motioning in Hwoarang's direction with his eyes. The two others looked at him, and he started to feel uneasy.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his waitress tottering back over with his pizza. She set it down and glared at the boys.
"Don't you go getting yourself mixed up with the likes of them" she warned "they're bad boys honey, all gonna be inside by the time they're twenty if they carry on that way." She went over to their table and asked for their bill money. The boy who had spotted Hwoarang handed it over and they stood up o leave. He flicked his long, blonde hair over his shoulder and smirked at Hwoarang. His look said 'I'll-be-seeing-you-soon', and Hwoarang sincerely hoped he would not be seeing him, ever again for that matter. He wolfed his pizza, washing it down with the rest of his beer, left the money on the table including a tip for the waitress, and left. He looked both ways up the street before walking any distance away from the door, and satisfied no one was around he made his way home. It was dark by now, and he hurried down the alley next to the apartment building, past Baek's yard and to the doors of the apartments. He went in quickly, and screamed when a hand planted itself on his shoulder.
"Someone was just here, dropped some things of for you."
He turned, relieved that it was only Bernie.
"Shit Bernie, don't do that okay?"
"Sorry kid, but some Sister has just been here and left some stuff of yours. Sister Ruso, or Reso, something like that."
"Rose, and thanks Bernie." He took he boxes, balancing them precariously, up the stairs and to his room. They contained some things he had left, little trinkets mostly but some clothes too and a few plates and cups that the Sisters had collected for him. He left the boxes in the sitting room and dug out a towel. The shower called. He went to the bathroom and stripped off, deciding to burn the shirt he had been wearing of at least run bleach over the part where Bernie had touched it. He turned the shower on and climbed in.
"SHIT!!! FUCK!!! COLD!!! COOOOOOOOLD!!!!!!" he called out, and leapt out of it. He turned it off angrily, and stalked back across the hall to the bedroom. He collapsed on the bed and curled up in the sheets, drifting off into a very pissed off sleep.
***
"I hate this building!!!" Hwoarang screamed when he woke up the next morning, cold and shivering having discovered that the heating had died at some point during the night. He pulled on some jeans and stormed into the living room to make sure. The thermostat was on, but the heating wasn't. He growled angrily and made himself some toast to take his mind off how much he felt like bludgeoning Bernie with his own shoes. The toaster apparently didn't work either, so he ate the bread dry, drank some water and glanced at the clock.10.15 AM, he remembered about arranging to go for a training session with Baek, and groaned. He went back to his room and pulled on a t- shirt, an old Guns n Roses one with the sleeves torn off. He put on his shoes and left the apartment, slamming the door on his way. Bernie was apparently still asleep, but being the big fool he was, hadn't locked the front doors anyway. Hwoarang left the building and went down the alley to Baek's yard.
Baek was already there, kitted out in his Gi and waiting for Hwoarng. He let him in and looked at his choice of clothing.
"Now, I love Guns n Roes as much as the next guy, but you can't really train in those jeans." He disappeared inside his house, then came back, holding a white Gi and hand protectors.
"These will do for now, until you get your own, go and get changed then we can get started."
Hwoarang did as he was told and went into Baek's home. It was nicer than his apartment by far, for a start Baek had decent furniture and carpets. He changed quickly and went back into the courtyard.
"That's more like it, now, follow my lead."
Hwoarang did so, and continued to do so for the next week. But he progressed quickly and was soon winning little sparring matches against Baek. He was proud of himself, and quickly got his own training gear, even bothering to pay extra to get his name embroidered across the back of the blue top half of his training wear. He was equally as please when Baek gave him his own set of keys so he could use the courtyard to train whenever he felt like it.
"You know" Baek said to him one day, after being well and truly wiped out by Hwoarang "You're the best student I've ever had, and I've been mentoring young boys like you since I was nineteen. Well done."
Hwoarant grinned happily. He finally felt fulfilled, and was dying to put his new skills to use. He went home that night in a good mood, and didn't even get pissed when Bernie came up to ask for that months rent. The sitting room was taking shape, although there were numerous pots of paint lying around, and his bedroom was totally finished. At last, the bitch called life was giving him a well-deserved time out.