Fighter || Jackson Wang [DISCONTINUED]

十八 • eighteen

There was a high-pitched squeak and the man you were up against threw his arms up in defeat. A bell chimed, signaling your win, but you had far to much on your mind to be happy.

First of all, Taeyong. What did he look like? Where was he? Did he want to hurt Carmen? You felt sick as these thought swirled around your head, your fingernails burying into your palms.

The crowd erupted in to cheers, but all you could do was force a smile and rush off to go to the locker room. You saw Jackson and Carmen sitting on the bench together, talking. The locker room was actually just a room full of lockers- there weren't any showers or bathrooms- so it wasn't separated by gender.

You let out a sigh of relief. You trusted Jackson and Carmen to be able to protect themselves, but you didn't know what Taeyong was capable of.

Jackson saw you and gave you a serious look, glancing at you then at Carmen then back at you. You nodded, sitting down next to Carmen.

"Carmen."

She looked at you, her smile fading at your tone.

"Taeyong is... fighting. Today. Here."

The remaining bits of her smile wavered and she glanced down, taking a shaky intake of breath.

"I know," she murmured. "I saw his name."

There was a pause as you let this sink in. You kind of felt like an idiot making such of a big deal out of something she hadn't even mentioned.

But looking at her, you got the idea she hadn't mentioned it because she wanted to forget about it.

•

"Carmen!" Mark exclaimed, running to show Carmen the sign showing a picture of the muffins the coffee shop was famous for.

She tried to block out the noises like she always did, but a loud snap sounded to her left, and she nearly fell over. But Mark didn't seem to notice, so she didn't even bother to look back, knowing she would look paranoid.

"Oh my god, muffins!" Mark whisper-shouted.

Carmen smiled at him while Mark looked back at her to make sure she was aware of the fact that there were muffins!

A man started getting up, but Carmen didn't really notice. In the sense that, yes, of course she noticed, but it didn't register in her brain as something relatively important.

Mark opened the door to the coffee shop and a warm aroma of coffee- and yes, muffins!

But then she turned.

There was nothing conspicuous about it; it was the kind of swivel of the head when making sure there was no one to hold the door for, the kind of glance that one gives without thinking, a kind of second nature.

She almost didn't see.

She almost didn't see the very thing she was looking for. Not in the sense that she wanted to find him, but in the sense that from that night forward, all her heightened senses and awareness, all the paranoia, was for this moment. For making sure that night never happened again.

But in that split-second, she did see it. She saw first the head of cherry-red. Then his angled jaw. Then she dared to look at his face, his eyes. And what she saw in them frightened her more than his actions ever could.