Fighter's Lines (RapMon Fanfic)

In My Blood

I looked down at the lyrics he sent me the night before, in complete awe of all the verses he'd come up with in the duration of just a few mere hours, my eyes scanning up and down the rows and rows he'd copied from his raw notes to our chatroom. My earphones were plugged into my ears to ensure that I didn't have any distractions to disturb the sound of his voice flowing from his voice messages into my ears, accompanying the words I was reading. And at that moment, I realized how much I really admired him.

His lyrics weren't sloppy or half-hearted at all, despite the short time he'd written them in. In fact, they surprisingly held a lot of meaning in them. Every syllable had its own purpose, and no verse went to waste. He'd put his voice into meaningless words, and literally breathed life into every one of them, bringing them to life. What he managed to do was amazing. Now I definitely believed Ji En when she said Namjoon was one of the best composers she's ever met.

I couldn't stop listening to his voice. I just kept replaying, and replaying his messages, trying to completely familiarize myself with his newest work that I was afraid I might start accidentally singing his song out loud. Now that would be embarrassing if he ever found out just how obsessed I've become with his work. That other day, Namjoon nearly overheard me singing one of his songs. 'Rush', if I'm not mistaken. It had been such a close call, that I'd literally felt my blood stop cold in my veins when I realized just how close he'd been to overhearing me.

On the other hand, I was busy thinking to myself. While he was out there, working his ass off and rapping his heart out, what the hell was I doing? One could clearly tell that he loved doing what he did. Hell. He lived and breathed rap, and spat fire while he was at it, too. But is that how people look at me when I fight? Do I look as happy as him? Do I look as satisfied as him? Do I look as alive as him?

Did I look alive at all? Because I didn't feel that way in the ring. I've never felt that zing in my bones while I was fighting for the last 3 years. At all.

I just felt numb. Dead and lifeless.

It was now lunch, and I had some time to kill before my next session with Yoongi, if I wasn't mistaken. I held my breath as I stepped outside, feeling the chilly air of mid-November hit the parts of my face that weren't hidden by my cotton mask. My phone was now playing the songs I had on shuffle so I didn't have to bother with choosing anything. And right now, it was playing the original 'Songbird' by Soong Mei Hwa.

The lyrics made my fingers itch and my heart yearn for something better than the life I was currently living. A life with meaning and purpose. A life in which I was happier, and content. A life like the one I had before I started my journey as an MMA fighter. But I knew all too well that I couldn't. There was no way I would be able to put myself through something so sick and twisted. I would've preferred getting hit by lightning, rather than risk all the possibilities that would happen to me if I were to follow what was in my blood from the very day I was born.

Because I knew how terrible it would be to both me, and the people around me, close to me, if any of those things were to happen to me. The deja vu would be fucking painful.

But for some reason, just hearing Namjoon risk all that, and do what he was born to do, made something else grow in my chest.

I wanted to be like him, and do what he was doing.

I wanted to do what I loved.

I sighed as I entered a small chicken cutlet shop and slid into an empty booth by the corner of the small restaurant. My brain was throbbing from the debate going on and on in my head. All I wanted to do was go along with what was currently going well for me and not ruin it. But at the same time, I wanted to go along with what my blood was made for.