@crownxmi — continued from here !
sometimes, jaehyun didn’t know why he ended in situations like these. here he was, busted lip on the floor because shadow decided it would be a fun idea to randomly show up and assault him.
“what he actual fuck?” he asks, reaching to wipe his lip, glaring at the other as he spits the blood that pooled into his mouth. it tastes like copper, such a familiar taste, it made him sick. however, he pushed himself up, he wasn’t the type to back down, and bit of pain definitely wasn’t going to stop him this time around.
“here i thought, shit was settled between us, and you fucking come into my territory, fucking decking me right in the face?” crown asks, not even bothering to get out a weapon. there was no need to violence, not right now. he wasn’t in the mood, even if the setting of the dark alley was more than the perfect setting for whatever shenanigans shadow wanted to get into today. however, jaehyun just raised his hands up, showing he wasn’t in the mood today. rival gangs, and all that, they were both hitmen, they both had blood on their hands, and he was sure the other knew not to mess with him.
“didn’t need to fucking stroll over, shove me and punch me you asshole. what the fuck do you want, you lanky bastard?” he almost hisses, but it comes out as a growl instead, eyes glued to the phoenix member as he waited for an answer.
honestly, he’s a little surprised at himself. it isn’t the action itself— wonwoo would never stand by and let some sleaze endanger anyone, much less an unsuspecting woman out having fun with her friends. instead, it’s the swing of his fist, how hard he’d hit. it’s no secret that whilst wonwoo’s skills with a knife are second to none ( in his humble opinion ), his physical, hands-only confrontation could do with some work. his thin arms don’t carry much muscle, instead working in careful carvings and slashes, aided by a sharp blade. but maybe he was just frustrated enough. maybe it was all adrenaline. whatever it is, it seems to have resonated with jaehyun, which, if going by the proud feeling blossoming in wonwoo’s chest, is what he had wanted.
“what the actual fuck right back, you useless asshole.” he grumbles, shaking his hand to will away the numb feeling to his knuckles. they might bruise; he has a love-hate relationship with how fragile his body is, how easy it is for little purple blooms to litter his skin. “what kind of shit hole are you running here? don’t you think you should be stopping the shit that goes on in there or are you getting a cut of some cash or something?”
he doesn’t know why his immediate reaction is to accuse the owner of involvement in the shady happenings, though he knows that even if he isn’t involved in it, it’s something he should be shutting down immediately. his lack of action either way is his downfall. “what do you have to say for yourself? also, fuck off with your ‘lanky’ bullshit— I don’t care about your napoleon complex.”