Chapter 11: Withdrawal
My eyes slowly opened to the sunlight. I lay still, my breathing slow and steady. At first, I felt like it was any other day, but that's when everything from last night came rushing back to my mind. I remembered King drinking his pain away, his frustration and anger finally reaching its boiling point. He asked me to explain my feelings to him, pushed me, and after realizing what he'd done, he tried to comfort me. And then the last words he said played back: 'Stay with me'. Right away, I could feel my awareness raising by the second. Carefully, I slowly rolled over to see if King was still next to me. To my surprise, he was standing by the nearby window, arms folded as he looked deep in thought. He'd obviously been awake for awhile now, he was dressed in new clothing and he looked as if he might be going somewhere. Shaking myself further awake, I called out to him.
"King?" He turned quickly and made eye contact with me briefly before coming closer to the bed.
"Umm..." he started. Seconds passed and nothing else was being said. Sensing the awkwardness, he scratched the back of his head and continued on. "About last night..I'm really sorry."
"...It's okay, you were drinking and you weren't yourself." I replied.
"See that's the thing...I was myself. And I'm sorry that you had to see it." For some reason, his words shocked me a little. I'd never heard him say anything like that before, so I curiously continued the conversation.
"King. You don't have to be sorry for feeling upset. It happens to all of us, hell, you've seen me at some of my worst moments. Don't feel bad."
"How's your arm?" he asked, changing the subject. I looked down at the bandage around my elbow and then back to him.
"It's fine." It was then that I really saw just how much of a wall he kept up. Last night, he showed me an insecure side which I never knew him to have, and now here he was acting as if everything was completely fine. I could tell by his tone of voice that he didn't want to get into those details, so I chose to ignore them for now. Although, I wanted to know what he thought about asking me to sleep in the bed with him. I noticed that I was still in his bed. Hesitantly, I moved off of it and approached him. He backed away from me ever so slightly, raising his hand up as if to say something else.
"Please don't mention anything I said last night...anything. Alright?" His words were half commanding but more pleading once I played them back in my mind. I already knew what he meant, but I had the desire to ask anyways. For his sake, I decided against it.
"Let's just pretend it never happened." he added before waiting for my response. At first, I didn't even know he was waiting for one, but his eyes stayed locked on mine as if searching for it. Slowly, I nodded back to him. Making my way back to my own bed, he turned his back to me and spoke again. "I got us a flight back home for tonight. There's no point in us staying around this place now since we're no longer in the competition." To me, he said one thing but I heard another. I personally started to feel like he just wanted to leave this room behind so that he could be back in his comfort zone and avoid what's been happening between us. Given the past few days' events, I couldn't blame him. Looking over to the right, I realized that his bags were already packed. He really was ready to go.
"Okay. I'll pack my things." He gave me another small nod before walking past me and leaving the room. It was as if he didn't feel comfortable around me anymore at all. The thought of that being true hurt me, but it was a reality I'd have to face. Opening up my suitcase, I started to randomly throw my belongings inside.
-----
"I'll call you as soon as I get home, okay? You guys have a safe trip." said Julia as she waved us goodbye from the airport gate.
"Okay Julia, good luck with the rest of the tournament." said King as he walked into the hallway to board the plane. I looked over at her and gave her a brief hug before exchanging goodbyes. While I knew she was slightly disappointed I wasn't staying to cheer her on, I knew me being around after everything that happened would only hinder her focus. We would see each other soon enough since we all lived in Arizona now, so the farewell didn't feel as painful as it normally would have. With one last smile, I followed King onto the plane and made my way over to my seat next to him.
Right away, I noticed his silence as he opened up a magazine and started to flip through its contents. Whenever I asked him a question or made a comment, he would just smile briefly and nod or do something else just as insignificant. I knew then that this ride back home was going to be a long one. It took several minutes before the plane began to go down the runway, the flight attendants going through their routine safety procedures. Moments later, we were in the air and I put on my headphones to try and lessen the tension I was feeling. Listening to something relaxing, I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against my pillow. A few seconds later, I cracked my eyes back open just a bit and looked over at King. To my surprise, his head was turned in my direction, watching me in a manner that looked as if he was trying to study me. I moved my shoulder slightly to get more comfortable and right away, I saw King quickly turn his attention back to his magazine. Sighing, I closed my eyes fully and let myself get lost in the music I was listening to. Before long, I could feel myself drifting off to sleep.
...
The trip seemed to go by a little faster than I expected, but that's probably because I had fallen asleep for a good portion of the flight. Before I knew it, King and I were already flagging down a taxi and on our way back home. He seemed a little less on edge, most likely because he was happy to be home. Finally, we pulled up to our house and got out of the taxi. Once we had all our belongings, King paid the driver and made his way to the front door, taking the key out from his back pocket. To be honest, I was happy to be home too. Even though things were far from it, I could try and get back to normal.
"What a trip. Did you want me to order us something to eat, Peter?" King asked.
"No it's okay, those stale peanuts from the plane sort of killed my appetite. Thanks anyway though." I replied as I rolled my suitcase into my room. He nodded before getting on the phone. I didn't know who he was calling, but I closed the door to my room and flipped on the television. As I sat on my bed flipping through the channels, I couldn't help but laugh at how many shows about love and happiness were playing. It was almost as if I was being taunted in some odd way, like somebody wanted me to see what I couldn't have right now. After a few more minutes, I decided that watching television wasn't going to be helping me feel any better. I turned it off and opened my room window slightly, watching as the sun began to set over the horizon. It was nice to see something so serene, after days of having to watch people beat each other to a pulp.
With nothing better to do, I flipped on my stereo and started to listen to an old CD I had made a few months back. Even though I was trying to distract myself, I couldn't help but notice just how much I'd changed. I felt as if somewhere along the way, I'd lost a piece of myself. However, the change was a good one. Usually, I was always so consumed with worrying about what others thought of me, and now I felt a bit more confident. About an hour or so later, I heard a knock on my door.
"Come in." I called out. King opened the door and after I turned down the music, he began to speak to me.
"I'm going to be heading off to the bar with some friends, but I shouldn't be back too late." he said.
"Okay, have fun." I replied as nicely as I could. Secretly, I was a little disappointed that he was leaving the house so soon, even though we'd just got in not too long ago; but he had a life and people to see so I didn't mind as much.
"Are you going to be alright here by yourself?" he asked me. Honestly, the question shocked me. I was twenty years old, an adult. Why wouldn't I be alright by myself?
"Yeah sure I'll be fine. If I need anything, I'll just call your cell. See you in a bit." As much as I tried to come off normal, I think my voice had a certain coldness to it as I spoke to him. When he just nodded and closed the door, it confirmed that for me. Usually, King was much more talkative with me before going out, making jokes and such. Outside my window, I heard him greeting his friends eagerly. They all sounded so excited to see him back home and I could tell that King was genuinely happy to be back around something familiar to him. I knew the bar they were going to, King usually always went with them every Friday night to have a few beers. I'd only been inside there once, but everyone there always seemed to treat King like family. He was a hero to so many of them. Every time he came in, everybody would gather around and ask him about his life and how things were going. Since I wasn't twenty one yet, I couldn't really be in there so I didn't personally know everybody as well as King did. However, there were times when his friends would come by the house and introduce themselves to me. They were all good people and as long as King had them in his life, I was happy for him.
After a few minutes of talking, they all got in their cars and headed off towards the bar. Now sitting in silence, I drummed my fingers against my desk trying to think of something to do. I didn't have too many friends, so I already knew there wouldn't be anyone to hang out with. I knew the few people I talked to here in this town probably would be off doing their own things since it was a Friday night, so I didn't bother to call anybody up. Instead, I went downstairs into the gym area and made my way over to the punching bag. Whenever I was stressed or upset about things, the punching bag always helped me get rid of it. Cutting some tape with a pair of scissors, I wrapped it around my fists and put on my black fingerless fighting gloves. I clicked on the small radio in the corner and started to do some warm up stretches. Clearing my mind of all things, I walked up to the bag and prepared to strike.
After exhaling, I thrust my right fist into the center of the black bag. Then I hit with my left, and back to my right. Continuing this pattern, I paced my breathing with the hits, making sure I wouldn't lose control. I threw some more jabs, punches, and chops. After a few more minutes of this, I began to kick at the bag as well, grunting in anger as each kick became more and more intense. Sweat dripped from my face as the music from the radio fueled my attacks. As I continued to attack the bag, my thoughts began wandering back to King. I thought of the situation that I had put myself in by telling him how I felt. I thought of how he seemed to be pulling away from me and then I thought of how he would never return the love that I had for him. Harder and harder I hit the bag, rattling the chain as I did so.
"It's not fair..." I muttered as I punched. Again, I thought of what King told me. I remembered how he told me to pretend like things never happened. But how could I ignore the feelings I had for him? To me, he was the center of my universe now and no matter how hard I tried to move on from him, I just couldn't.
"It's not fair." I said a little louder as I kicked at the bag again. Confusion turned to sadness, sadness turned to frustration, frustration turned to anger. "It's not fucking fair!!" I stopped hitting the bag, backed up against the wall and slumped down into a sitting position, trying to catch my breath.
'Calm down, everything will be okay.' I thought to myself. The more I sat there thinking about everything, the more I wanted King to be here. I wanted him to tell me that everything was indeed going to be okay. I wanted to hear him say that he understood me and that he loved me back. I wanted to hear so many things from him, but I knew he'd never say them. For now, I'd have to toughen up and deal with all these feelings on my own. I usually always had him to rely on but this time, I knew that I was on my own.
...
If the truth is supposed to set you free, then why do I feel so restrained?
-----
The next day came faster than I expected. King sat across from me at the table picking at the food on his plate, looking like he had a lot on his mind. I was unsure if I should ask him what he was thinking but I wanted to know.
"King, Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, of course. I was just thinking about a wrestling tournament coming up." he replied.
"Oh really? You're going to enter?"
"I think so. This tournament is a few towns over, definitely a long drive. I'm actually going to head over to the admissions center in a bit. I'll probably be gone for a few days." As he said that, he kept his eyes locked on his plate. Usually, he would always offer for me to come and cheer him on. He said nothing else, and I knew he was secretly waiting for me to respond to it. Instead of showing him weakness, I hid my true feelings and cleared my throat.
"I think you should do it."
"...Really?" he said, this time making eye contact with me. I nodded, looking back down at my plate this time.
"You have to do what makes you happy, King. If you want to go, I'm all for it." With that said, I took my plate and dumped it in the trash can before placing it in the dishwasher. The next few minutes consisted of small talk between us both. It was obvious that he was wondering why I acted the way I did, but if I truly wanted the best for him, I would have to abide by his wishes and pretend that nothing was bothering me. Before another awkward silence could come on, I switched on the television turned up the volume. After a few seconds, King left the room to get ready.
-----
It was the next day, towards the night. King had left the day before like he said he would. His departure wasn't as awkward as I imagined it to be. I wished him luck on his tournament and he wished me well with whatever the hell it was I was going to do in the next few days. Well, he didn't exactly say that, I just knew that I'd be bored stiff without him around. For once, I planned on getting out of the house. I was going to go to a bar nearby. At first, I considered going to the one King always went to, but since everybody there knew him, they'd know me and how I wasn't legally able to drink yet. For now, I was just going to try out the fake I.D. that Steve Fox had helped me get during the tournament. If King knew I had one, I don't think he'd be too happy about it, so the fact that he wasn't around actually benefited me.
Taking my black cotton hoodie, I walked out the front door and locked it with the key. The bar I was going to was just down the road, it would only take about twenty minutes to get there. Along the way, I practiced how to present my fake I.D. to the bartender. It's funny how such a simple act made me so anxious. Since my mind always tended to look more to the negative side of things, I imagined all sorts of different possible scenarios. Maybe the bartender would call my bluff and know that the I.D. was fake just by looking at my face. Maybe I'd see one of King's friends there and they'd call him up and tell him about it. Maybe I'd get drunk off my ass and make a complete fool out of myself in public.
Before long, I was approaching the door to the bar, trying to push my nervousness aside. As soon as I opened the door, it made a beeping sound to let the owner know that someone had just come in. 'Great, just let everybody know I'm here.' I thought to myself as I tried my best to act natural. Walking to the counter with my hands in my pockets, I took a seat and asked for a few shots.
"You got I.D.?" asked the bartender.
"Yeah, hold up." I said as I tried to look shocked, as if I drank all the time and never got asked to show my I.D. before. Smoothly pulling it out of my wallet, I showed it to him and mentally held my breath. To my surprise, he nodded and started to get some shot glasses ready. While he wasn't looking, I put the I.D. away and exhaled real slow.
'Looks like my luck is turning around.' I thought to myself as I swallowed the first shot. Since I wasn't too much of a heavy drinker, some of the shots made me wince just by the taste alone. I did my best to hide my expressions, but inside I was wondering how the hell King had it in him to drink this stuff and not show any reaction whatsoever. Not too many people were inside the bar tonight, just a few scattered about here and there. One man sat a few seats away from me and most of the others sat at their own tables. While the bartender was cleaning, he gave me a long stare that made me a little bit nervous. After a few moments, he finally spoke up.
"Hey, do I know you from some place? You look real familiar." he asked.
'Shit!' I thought. "No I don't think we know each other." I replied, hoping he'd drop it. But instead of letting it go, he leaned a little closer to me.
"No, I'm sure I've seen you some place..."
"His name is Peter. He's been in those King of Iron Fist Tournaments on television." I turned my head in the direction of the voice. It was the man who was sitting a few seats away from me. The bartender then clapped, realizing who I was.
"I KNEW I'd see you around somewhere, kid! You were pretty good in the last few tournaments, but what happened with you this year?" he asked. Feeling embarrassed, I drank another shot and looked to the ceiling.
"I wasn't as focused as I should've been." I replied.
"I'll say, you pretty much got your ass handed to you by that Jin Kazama dude. Ain't you King's step-son too?" asked the man sitting nearby, clearly drunk. Before I could respond, the bartender spoke again.
"No way, King? As in King that hangs out at the bar down the road King? Well, we just be gettin' celebrities left and right in this town, wait till I tell my brother." he said excitedly. Right away, I panicked on the inside and knew it was time for me to go before someone else thought it'd be a good idea to spread the word. Leaving my money on the counter, I thanked him and started to walk out.
"Hey, where you goin' all of a sudden?" asked the drunk man on the stool nearby as I passed him. "Maybe you could stick around and show us some pointers, hot shot."
"No thanks, how about asking again when you're not foaming at the mouth?" I said before opening the door and heading out into the darkness. "Damn, that is the last time I try that shit."
"Hey!" I heard from behind me. It was the drunken man, coming outside after me with a beer in his hand, his nuts in the other as he staggered towards me. "What the fuck did you say to me?!"
"What's the point in me repeating myself if you won't remember it in the morning?" I retorted angrily as he clung onto my shirt and got into my face. His breath smelled of way too much alcohol as he panted heavily like a dog in the summer time. I brushed his hands off my shirt and turned around to walk away again when suddenly, he grabbed my shoulder and spun me back around to face him. Without warning, he swung his beer bottle across the side of my face, shattering it in the process. I stumbled backwards slightly as warm blood began to drip from the side of my forehead. Before I could regain my balance, the man tackled me back into the brick wall behind me. I bounced off the wall and hit the ground, trying to get the air back into my lungs.
Looking up, I saw the man getting ready to kick me, but I rolled out of the way just in time. Grabbing the hair on the back of his head, I slammed his face into the brick wall and pulled him back to face me. Blood dripped from his nose as I kicked him in the stomach as hard as I could. He bent over, groaning in pain. Not stopping, I once again grabbed his hair and yanked him back up to a standing position. Holding his head in place with one hand, I used the other to punch him across the face. He spun around and fell to the floor. Blood dripping from my chin, I opened my left hand and let a clump of his hair fall to the ground before taking another step towards him.
"Hey hey hey!! Knock it off!!" a voice yelled. It was the bartender from inside.
"Oh I'll knock it off alright." I said as I tried to lunge at the drunk man on the ground. The bartender jumped in front of me and shoved me back.
"Cut it out! You've done enough." he said, looking over his shoulder at the man who was now vomiting on the ground.
"He fucking cracked his beer over my fucking face, man!!" I yelled, covering my wound with my hand.
"I know, I know and I'm sorry he did that, but dude, he's fucking drunk. Just go home, I'll take care of this." he said as he knelt down and checked on him. After a few seconds of realizing what just happened, I looked at my fist. My knuckle was split and my hands were splattered with blood that was half mine, half his.
"I...I didn't mean-"
"Son, I know you didn't but just go before things get worse, please." Taking his advice, I turned on the road and started to walk back home. My head began to throb after the adrenaline died down. What did I just do? The walk back seemed a lot longer than the first walk. Unlocking the door, I stumbled inside and closed the door. Right away, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a clean rag. Placing it to my wound, I dropped to my knees and held back a cry. Pain started to set in and I knew I was probably going to need stitches. Knowing I couldn't drive, especially with alcohol in my body, I tossed out the idea and got back up. I opened the freezer and put some ice into a ziplock bag, dabbing the wound before dropping the rag. Once I placed the ice against my forehead, I shivered at how cold it felt. I made my way to the couch and laid on my back, closing my eyes. I looked at the clock, realizing it was close to eleven o' clock. Again, I closed my eyes and tried to will the pain away. I felt myself getting tired and before long, my awareness decreased until I could no longer hold the ice to my forehead.
-----
"Peter?! Pete!" I heard King's voice echo through my eardrums. I could almost feel him wrapping his arms around me, lifting my head up against his chest. Even though I was dreaming, I swore I could smell his cologne and feel his warmth. Unfortunately, this kind of scenario only happened in my sleep.
"Wake up! Peter!" I heard him call again.
...
I was just dreaming...wasn't I? Opening my eyes slowly, I realized that it was near midnight. King was really here and I wasn't dreaming. Looking around, I struggled to remember where I was or what had happened. My head started to throb again and that's when I realized why I was lying here. The bar, the fight with that man, everything was coming back. My vision took a few seconds to clear but once it did, I looked up and saw King looking back down at me. I could tell he was worried just by the tone of his voice.
"What happened to you??" he asked. Regaining my energy, I pushed away from him and stood on my own feet. He wasn't supposed to be here, he was supposed to be at his tournament. I felt so embarrassed and ashamed that he was seeing me like this, that every time he tried to come near me, I turned my face away and covered my wound. It was stained with dry blood but a small moisture still remained.
"Let me see it." he said.
"I'm fine." I replied, my voice quiet.
"Peter, let me see it." he asked again. Still somewhat dizzy from the blood and alcohol, I tried to walk away but couldn't move very far without almost stumbling over.
"King, it's not that bad okay. I just fell is all."
"Peter, you didn't fall."
"How would you know? You're always off somewhere, how would you know?!" I yelled back. As soon as I finished the sentence, I wanted to take it back.
"...I heard about what happened." he said in a concerned tone. I shook my head, not wanting to believe what he said. With all the blood rushing to my head, I went to lean against the counter but found myself falling to my knees. Before I could feel the ground, King caught me and pulled me back up to my feet. Holding me with one arm, he used his other hand to try and look at my wound. Still resisting, I moved my face away every time his hand touched it. I felt so humiliated. Finally, King grabbed hold of my face and looked me in the eye.
"Please, stop." he said, his voice patient and concerned. He observed the wound for a few seconds before speaking again. "You're going to need stitches. I'll take you to the hospital and then-"
"No, no please I don't want people to see me like this." I tried to pull away from his grip but I didn't have enough energy to put up much of a fight. Not loosening his arm from around my back, he pulled me closer as he walked me over to the couch. Helping me to sit back down, he put a pillow behind my back and handed me the half melted ice pack I had made.
"You'll need to go. But before that, we have to stop the bleeding." He got back up and moved to the bathroom. My vision blurring again, I heard him searching for materials before his footsteps sounded closer. He stood in front of me and knelt down. He dipped a rag in what looked to be alcohol and carefully placed it against the wound. I gasped as I felt a stinging sensation burning through my forehead.
"Ah...ow!!" I yelled out, gripping King's forearm while trying to move my face away.
"We have to clean it, or you might get an infection. Okay?" It seemed so strange for someone as tough and strong as King to speak in such a soft, caring tone. It was this side of him that I felt so drawn to. While he was strong, I knew deep inside he had a pure heart and that he truly cared about me. Biting my lower lip, I nodded and let him continue. His face just inches from mine, I tried to breath slowly as I looked into his eyes. His gaze seemed fixed on his task, not once making eye contact with me. But in his eyes, I saw such a feeling of kindness and genuine concern. It was then I realized I was still holding tightly onto his arm, which rested just above my knee.
"I'm sorry." he said. The words took me by surprise and I wondered if I heard it right.
"For what?" I asked, looking over his shoulder as he finally looked back into my eyes.
"For not being there." his words hit me at the heart and before I could say anything in response, he shook his head and continued on. "I should've been there."
"...It's not your fault. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time." I responded.
"But if I'd been here, you wouldn't have gone there." He cupped his hand around my neck, and the chill I then felt travel down my spine made me wonder if it was from the loss of blood, or from his touch. He held my neck steady as he wiped the wound dry with another rag. It hurt, but him being here like this was enough to help me endure it. Once he finished cleaning it, he started to place a bandage around my head. Again, I looked into his eyes as he stayed focused. That look of determination that he always wore in times like this made me feel safe. Now finished, he pulled away from me and helped me to stand.
"Don't worry, everything is going to be okay." he told me as he helped me outside to the car. Earlier I was thinking I'd never hear him say that to me, but here he was, telling me what I needed to hear. And for some reason, I believed him this time.
