Holy leaping ninja hamsters, it's another chapter! So… after a couple years of no updates, I actually have nothing to say except… My apologies, and please enjoy! Oh… and don't be confused by the time skip.
Disclaimer: Tekken characters are not mine.
Goodbye?
Hwoarang was roused from his sleep, an uncomfortably full feeling in his stomach. Scratching absently at his chest, he glanced at the alarm clock and was greeted with the cheerily glaring red of the numbers 4:07 a.m. Shaking away the initial heaviness of waking up in the middle of the night, the redhead grudgingly responded to the urgent sensation that was currently pushing at his bladder.
Flipping back the sheets, he shuffled sleepily to the bathroom, squinting against the light as he flipped the switch upon reaching his porcelain destination. Finishing up his business and cursing that last round of soju Scar had insisted upon, he turned to go back to his bed and blissful unconsciousness.
Exiting the commode, he paused, his body in the hall while one arm still stretched back to the flip the switch. Looking out into the living room where his guest had taken up residence, he squinted to get a better look at where she lay. For a moment, he thought he saw a glint of light, like a reflection from a small shiny object, but chalked it up to fatigue when it disappeared when he blinked. With another inward shrug, the redhead flicked the switch off and shuffled back to his rumpled bedding.
Faith felt the heat radiating off of her cheeks and ears, a result of what she swore to herself was just shocked embarrassment. Luckily, the light from the bathroom just barely illuminated the living room, although she felt that her glowing cheeks would probably be pulsating beacons in the shadows and giver her away anyway.
She had awakened upon hearing the rattle of the bedroom doorknob and the following squeal of the bathroom door hinge, not a surprising occurrence considering her light sleeping patterns. It was a common enough occurrence, she'd been tucked away in the Blood Talon's abode for a little over two weeks already and had adjusted to his random nighttime shuffling, but she still cracked open an eye to check out the situation just in case. Mild paranoia about living with a stranger will do that to a girl.
Like any other night, it was just Hwoarang. And he'd had quite a bit to drink judging by the sounds issuing from the wide open door. The aqua-eyed woman simply shook her head at the impropriety of it and snuggled her face back into the pillow she'd been provided, fully intending on ignoring any further sounds and going back to Dreamland.
It was only by chance, or perhaps the beckoning draw of the still shining light, that Faith lazily opened her eyes again. They subsequently flew open in surprise.
There, framed by the yellowish-white glow of a light bulb she'd dusted not too long ago, was a nearly naked Hwoarang staring right at her. Or rather, where he knew she was. She'd seen him in his boxers before, like while he was sick and pretty much every morning thereafter when he grabbed something to eat, but there was something about him in that moment that made her breath catch.
His expression was sleepily intent, the staunch handsomeness of his face softened by fatigue induced laxness. His usually spiked hair glowed bright red and lay flat in places while sticking out in others; a prime example of adorable bed head if ever there was one. Gazing lower, she could see the definition of his well toned body enhanced by the spotlight effect, with the ridges looked deeper and the planes smoother. Without thinking, she let her eyes go lower, following the cuts at his hips as they sank into the low slung band of his boxers. There she could see the faint lined of a dark treasure trail that seemed to invite her gaze lower still.
'No, no, no, no!' she mentally chastised, squeezing her eyes shut.
She didn't see the light go out as much as she sensed it, her eyes still tightly shut, but still she waited, listening to the scuff of feet sliding across carpet and the rattle of the door handle. It was only then that she dared opened her eyes, although the glowing image of the Asian Adonis was burned into her retinas either way. Trying to shake the image of her half-nude host from her mind, Faith buried her face in the pillow, vehemently chastising herself every time the thought of that gorgeous stomach nudged its way back into her mind. Or those perfect pectorals, far from flabby but not disgustingly pumped up either. Or those strong thighs. Or…
"NO, NO, NO, NO!" she berated herself into the heavily stuffed cushion this time, the words muffled and absorbed by the synthetic stuffing. "I won't give him the satisfaction of letting him know he's attractive. His head's big enough as it is."
She could practically see the smug, slightly amused smirk spreading across the fighters face if he learned she found him even remotely sexy, and it made her seethe inside. He thought he was hot stuff, and it seemed that the entire female population of Seoul and beyond agreed. She knew, because he insisted upon telling her, especially since he knew it irritated her to listen to the drivel about swooning girls and hints of easy lays. After enduring such torments, she would be damnedif she did anything to swell his ego any more than it already was.
Rolling over, Faith pulled the blankets tight about herself, still muttering darkly in agitation as attempted sleep again.
Downtown Seoul had come to life with the rising of the sun, not that it ever truly slept. People flowed in living streams to work, play, or wherever else their lives were leading them, against the backdrop sounds of boisterous, blaring city noises. There were stirrings beyond these happenings, however, tucked away in apartments in a slightly quieter, though no more peaceful, manner.
It was several days after the fantasy-inducing episode, and Faith stood at the sink washing dishes after breakfast, humming half heartedly along with the radio to a song she didn't know, but that had a simple and catchy refrain. Her mind was full at the moment and her heart heavy. Even the flashbacks of a rippling body and boyishly handsome face that had tormented her dreams lately could not lighten her mood.
She'd just called the hospital back home, via a disposable cell she'd conned Scar into buying for her, to check on Melody. Her health was deteriorating quicker than ever, the doctors had said, and she wouldn't hold on much longer.
The words had created such an overflow of guilt, that Faith didn't know what to do with herself at first. Here she was, the big sister supposed to be trying to find a way of helping her younger sibling, but who was instead living like a housewife with someone she barely knew. The fact that she could feel herself growing more and more attracted to him only added to the flood of shame. This wasn't a vacation for find romance, it was supposed to have been a quick trip to investigate foreign medicines.
"Damnit!" She slammed her sudsy hands down on the edge of the counter, gripping it as if to choke the formica in her frustration. "I'm so sorry, Melody. I got whisked away like some dumbshit in a romance novel and forgot about you…"
It was at that point that Hwoarang emerged from his bedroom, dressed and ready to cause some hell… or at least to tease his guest, as it had become his favorite pasttime. He was going to ask her what the hell was up lately. She was as sassy as ever, but at times had been acting strange, refusing to look him in the eye, and he could've sworn she'd blushed the few times he had caught line of vision. The words died in his mouth, however, seeing her hanging her head over the sink, her grip white-knuckled where she was bracing herself against the countertop.
"Hey, Ostrich, you're dripping all over the floor."
No response. Not even to the nickname he knew got a rise out of her, since as it turned out she wasn't the type to stick her head in the sand as he'd suggested when they first met.
'What the hell?' he thought, moving in closer.
"Hey…"
"Don't, Hwoarang. Just don't."
The tone of voice took him aback, stalling the hand he'd reached out to grab her shoulder. It was a cold tone, distant, sad, and… angry? Definitely not her usual tone.
"I have to go home, Hwoarang." She turned around as she spoke, keeping her back pressed against the countertop for support. "I have to go home," she reiterated when he said nothing.
His eyebrows lowered dangerously as he frowned, a look that clearly displayed displeasure. A surge of incomprehensible anger filled him at the thought.
"So you just wanna leave like that. I offer make amends for busting your leg and I get fuckin' spit on…"
"It's not like that, I have to go home."
"No one asked you to play fuckin' housewife if that's why you feel the need to rush out. It's not like…"
Now it was Faith's turn to get angry.
"I did that as a thank you, you bastard! I wouldn't have offered if you'd fucking expected it! I have to go home for my sister!"
"Now you're gonna lie?" he snarled, backing away and making an angry beeline for the door. "If you didn't want to stay here you should have just said so."
"SHE'S DYING!"
He paused at the front door, looking back at the woman with an expression set as if in stone. She still stood pressed against the sink, but something had changed in her posture. It wasn't the stubborn, bitchy Faith he was used to battling verbally with. She looked, in that moment, to be a porcelain figurine ready to break under the weight on her shoulders. Turning away, he left the apartment without another word.
"You bastard. You son of a bitch…" she uttered softly, sagging against her support counter.
Staying that way for a few minutes, Faith contemplated on what to do. She had never told Hwoarang about her sister because she figured she'd of been out of here a long time ago, and didn't like to talk to strangers about her dying sibling anyway. The looks of pity were always too much to put up with. And so she'd kept putting off leaving and giving in to his insistence to stay and heal. It was time to go now though. He'd just proven it with that blank, uncaring look.
Grabbing her coat, one of many article of clothing she'd gotten second hand from the gang's girls at Hwoarang's persuasion, she limped her way to the door. Come hell, high water, or the need to hobble around Seoul all fucking week, she was leaving.
Hwoarang felt conflicted walking away from the U.S. Embassy. It hadn't been his original destination, but without realizing it he'd ended up on the buildings steps staring at the telltale flags.
He glanced down at the packet of papers in his hand and wondered why on earth he'd ended up tramping into the building with a flood of questions on how to return to the United States if a passport was lost. He'd raised suspicions, but after an extensive explanation to one of the clerics he'd managed to procure the papers in hand. And what a stack of papers they were.
Turning the corner where his bike was parked and thinking of the sad-eyed woman he'd have to face upon returning home, he had no time to react to the rifle butt that came crashing into face. Dazed, he dropped the papers and lurched forward to retaliate when another blow came from behind, sending him sprawling. A flurry of footsteps seemed to surround him as soon as he hit the ground, as did the sounds of safeties being released.
"Well, well, well. Nowhere to run this time, deserter."
Hwoarang had time to look up and see a forest of military uniform clad legs and the smug face of the officer who'd tried to capture him in the parking garage with Kazama. The view was short lived, however, as another blow knocked him unconscious.
Faith stumbled onward down the busy sidewalk, her leg screaming at her in protest of her stupidity. The resting time she'd had at Hwoarang's place had let her sprain heal, but the bone bruise was still a bitch when it came to walking anywhere for a period of time, and she'd been out and about for nearly five hours.
Avoiding a patch of trodden paper garbage and what appeared to be a bloodstain on the sidewalk, she turned the corner and nearly cried out in joy upon seeing the United States flags waving from what had to be the Embassy. Hobbling as quickly as possibly, she hopped up the stairs and headed right towards the front desk.
"I'd like to report a stolen passport," she panted, still out of breath from her rush to get there. "I probably should of reported it sooner but I was injured and…"
"Excuse me, miss, is your name Faith?"
"Pardon?" she asked, wondering who could possibly be asking for her.
Turning around, she was faced with someone of obvious importance judging by the way he held himself and the deferential nod the woman behind the desk gave him.
"Come with me, miss. The paperwork will all be worked out and you'll be home in no time, courtesy of the Embassy."
"But…"
Without receiving any further explanation, Faith had no choice but to follow the man to his office, where took down her information, signed several papers, made a phone call, wished her a good day, and handed her off to someone else. It all happened so fast, she didn't know quite what to make of it. She'd heard that getting a passport in a foreign country could be a pain in the ass, but without doing anything but giving some information and showing her drivers license, which luckily hadn't been stolen due to being in her pocket, she seemed to have a free ride out.
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" she asked her new escort, who had only spoken enough to ask her if she had any belongings she needed to take along.
"No."
"If you did, would you tell me?"
"No."
"Wonderful."
Sitting quietly in the Embassy provided vehicle, Faith wondered about everything that had just happened. Now that she actually had time to think on it, the whole thing seemed suspicious. Eyeing her escort with her peripheral vision, she wondered how hard it would be to take him down. Before she actually summoned the courage to do so, the car slowed to a stop and he got out, holding the door open. Cautiously, she looked out.
"We're at the airport."
And so Faith soon found herself on a plane home, the connecting flight landing right in the city where Melody was hospitalized. Whether that was on purpose or by chance, she'd never now, but was nonetheless thankful.
With more free time than she wanted, Faith found herself thinking about Hwoarang and Scar and the others. She hadn't said goodbye. She hadn't said thank you. Hell, she didn't even have their phone numbers to call and express such thoughts. And she was confused at how on earth she'd gotten a trip back home so quickly.
In the end though, none of it was as important as the fact that she was on her way home to take care of Melody, something she should have done a long time ago. Still, there was a part of her that longed to go back. To wait on the couch for a certain fighter to show up and tease her about being a gimp. But she couldn't, there were more important things that needed her attention.
"Goodbye," she whispered, gazing at the city of Seoul as it grew smaller and smaller.
Hwoarang pulled his gloves on, flexing them so they stretched and fit comfortably. His gray prison uniform lay piled on the bed beside him, having been barely worn before that ambassador had showed up with the most shocking news he'd ever read. Staring at the letter in amazement again, the fighter shook his head before tucking the paper into his back pocket.
"I'm coming, Master."