I finally track Hwoarang down in a smoky downtown dive strategically hidden between two larger buildings, one of them being a derelict branch of the shopping centre, and the other being a discount clothes store. I know he's in this particular bar because of the motorbikes parked outside. I recognise his among the others. Taking a deep breath and steeling myself for all the slapping and pinching that my ass was most likely to suffer, I swing the door open and step inside. My eyes adjusting to the dim light, I glance around, looking for the familiar mop of hair. I can't see Hwoarang anywhere, and after ten minutes of fruitless searching, I can't stand being in the pub any longer and retreat out of the back door, rubbing my sore behind with a wince. It hurts to walk. Choosing to slam the door behind me even though every inch of me is screaming to barrel back into the pub and hand out some ass kicking, I turn to face the canal. Sitting on the wall in front of me and taking a drag of a half finished cigarette, is Hwoarang. I wander over and he turns to me glumly.
"What do you want?"
"I was looking for you."
"Hm."
He takes another drag, turning back to the water. I decide to cut to the chase.
"Did you find Baek?"
He doesn't answer, simply exhales the smoke of the cigarette and continues to stare into the distance. I walk up to him and sit myself down, crossing my legs in front of me and tilting my head a little.
"The canal looks really great at night, don't you think?" I muse. "There's no breeze, so it's like a sheet of glass. The reflection's so clear."
He glances at me, giving me an annoyed look.
"Fine, if you're gonna go all poetic on me. I don't know where the hell he is." He sighs. "I thought he might be here. Used to be one of his old hangouts. Came here whenever I pissed him off."
"How long's he been gone?"
He puts the cig back in his mouth.
"About two weeks now. 'Course, I thought he just got fed up waiting for me and went home last time I actually turned up when we were supposed to train. Never occured to me that there was anything wrong."
"Have you tried calling him?"
He glares.
"Why didn't that ever occur to me?" he asks in a voice laced with sarcasm.
"Okay, that was a stupid question." I admit, brushing my hair out of my eyes.
We're both silent for a while, before Hwoarang shakes his head, crushing his cigarette on the pavement and standing up.
"Well, suppose we'd better get going."
"Hwoarang, maybe he just needed a break." I suggest lamely. "He'll show up at the tournament, if not before, I bet you anything."
"Hm."
We slip into silence again, and I glance sideways at him as we walk. This isn't the cheerful clumsy dork that I'm used to. His eyes are fixed on the ground, his shoulders slumped. His hair's messed up where he's been pulling at it. The Hwoarang I'm used to would be sauntering along, smirking and making dirty-minded comments at every opportunity. I guess he's taking Baek's disappearance harder than even he thought he would. He always complains to Miharu and I about 'the fuckin' slave-driver' making him get up at five am to train at the Shinto shrine near Hwo's apartment. But deep down, I think he sees Baek as the father he should have had, instead of the one he did have. Either that or an older brother.
"Guess I'll have to go back to what I was doing before." Hwoarang is saying, and I turn to him, confused.
"Before what?"
"Before he came along and decided to pay the rent for my place."
"Hwoarang?!"
He's referring to the days when he used to pick fights for cash.
"You can't be serious..." I said in disbelief, stopping in front of him when he ignored me. "Hwoarang, tell me you're not serious?"
He arches an eyebrow.
"What? I did pretty well out of it before."
"It's dangerous." I snap. "Not to mention it's a dishonest way to make a living!"
He scowled. "Stop with the preaching, Xiaoyu. Most people make their living by being dishonest. It's not that big a deal, I don't see the problem."
"No, I don't suppose you would." I mutter, and his eyes flash angrily.
"Don't even think about it." he warned. "You've got no idea."
"Then why not explain it to me?"
"Because you wouldn't understand, Xiaoyu. You've never had to lift wallets or hustle for cash."
"Have you?" I argue. "Have you ever had to? Or did you just choose to?"
I can tell as soon as the words are out of my mouth that I've gone too far. Hwoarang's eyes widen as what I've said sinks in, and I stammer an apology.
"S-sorry, I don't even know why I said that..." I manage, but he simply shakes his head in disbelief, turns abruptly, and just walks away.