Set You Free (CANEM)

LXXII

(TW - Violence)

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He burned with fire in his lungs.

The deep-rooted anger he felt was like the tight grasp of hot coal, ready to launch at the opponent, hurting both himself and others in the process.

Violence tingled at his fingers, exciting his skin with the chance of meeting his flesh but it was the hate-fuelled wrath within him that drove the feeling so immensely. Knowing all that he had done now, he wanted an end to Yiğit and all that he stood for.

The rage danced within him, taunting him with the opportunity to lash out at any moment. 

Finally centring himself on the ground that had felt so distant for so long, he drew up strength from the floor, filling his lungs with oxygen, getting a moment of clarity.

The dusty floor underneath him clouded his boots and he stared down at the road that he had just taken. Feeling indignant and weighty, his chest ached at the velocity he had been running or in alarm with what was to come.

Wind whispered at his ears as he turned towards the car that drove away in the distance. The white clouds above highlighted the significance and it calmed him, knowing that now she was safe.

Despite the imminent need to get to her, to hold her, this altercation needed to be sorted before all else.

This was the pending issue.

Him.

Pivoting on his feet, he caught the swing before Yiğit noticed his attention. At the corner of his eye, the pugnacious figure launched his attack, sprinting towards him like a torrent. Leading with his fist, Can was quick to cut to attempt short.

Now head-on with his opponent, Can registered his expression, the setting and the true extent of what Sanem had had to endure. 

Despite his history, he had never seen a person quite as violent as the character in front of him. His features were sharp, creased and aggressive, without even a hint of empathy or feeling. Lines layered his forehead, cheeks and nose like the snarl of a wolf. This grey-being on a full-on attack with his opponent, his stance offensive and domineering. With the time he had clearly spent obsessing over his future, the thoughts almost lay on his skin like notes, only they were replaced by his matted hair and darkened eyes - features which suggested his intent.

For a moment, Can glanced behind him and saw the look of worry on his father's face.

The fist came up to his cheek and was moments away from making contact. Just before Yiğit had the chance, Can caught his grip and instead sent a deep punch straight through his stomach.

The man leaned down and winced.

By the scruff of his collar, he pulled the pathetic man back into the warehouse, the dust scuffing at his legs turning them a yellowish colour. 

"Can!" 

He heard the calls of the two others with him, calls that sounded filled with trepidation, wondering how far he would go to put an end to this, both Aziz and Polen wondering whether he would kill him.

Dragging him into the warehouse, Can dumped the man onto the floor and stepped back, reading the situation.

Yiğit stayed on the ground for a while, the three individuals watching him as a collective. Not a word was spoken until he lifted his head. At first, it lulled but then his eyes lifted to the brim of his eyebrows, snatching the contact of Can and holding his gaze, threatening him. 

A smile crept onto his face.

"Hello Can."

The situation looked almost comical to him, almost through a disassociation of reality. He challenged his counterpart by shaking his head and finally getting back up onto his feet.