I throw a pillow off the bed, it landing with a soft thud, and swing my legs over the side of the mattress. They dangle freely and delicately, like leaves in a summer breeze. I smile weakly. Those leaves are so free. The wind can pluck them from their branch and carry them to somewhere new. They float to a different place without force, carelessly drifting through the air awaiting their next destination. The leaves can't fight back; they can't resist the wind or tell it to stop blowing. They simply go with the wind, like they were made for each other.

   How I long to be free like a leaf. Plucked away from my branch and carried away, far away. But something is holding me back; something large and dangerous. It doesn't want me to leave, its claws tightly clamped around my stem. But I try. I try with all my might and with the help of the wind to free myself from the claws, but every time I try to wriggle free, the claws tighten and chip away at my leaf. Each time I feel the wind begin to rustle through the tree, I make another attempt, and the claws are always there to rip away at the beautiful green leaf. And that's where I stand: my leaf tattered and torn and the claws so firmly closed that it's beginning to suffocate me.

   I haven't left my room since the incident. I can bring myself to think about it, the images haunting me. Jungwoo brought me food and water. He came in every few hours to check up on me. He's such a sweet man, sad to see him tied up with the mafia. Three days have passed since Mark blew his fuse and other things I refuse to talk about. That entire day was mental torture. I couldn't look at anyone, even Jungwoo, the same way as before. They weren't the kindest or most considerate people, but I believed everyone had a light side to their dark. But was I proven wrong in the worst way possible. The men in that room acted insane; someone died and they blink it away like it was nothing. Even the men that weren't inside the room I'm wary about. If those 8 men were psychotic, I sure as hell would think everyone here is too. 'I just pray to God that I don't turn into one as well...'

   A soft knock sounded from the door and I glanced up out of my thoughts. I'm met with the faded orange hair of Jungwoo, a slight smile pulling at his lips. He only put his head through the crack in the door, like he was cautious about entering.

   "Hey Yubin. Do you mind if I come in?" His voice was a mix of worry, seriousness and comfort. It was oddly relaxing.

   "Yeah, go ahead." I pull my legs close to my body, crossing them. Jungwoo slid through the crack, closing the door behind him. He wore a white t-shirt, which looked a size too big, and a pair of sleek, black dress pants. Patent leather shoes clicked as he strolled towards the bed, his hair a fluffy ball bouncing atop his head. He looked like he just rolled out of bed and ready for a business meeting at the same time. Both items of clothing contrasted heavily, but it somehow looked good on him.

   "What time is it?" My voice came out quiet and hoarse.

   "Around early morning. 7 a.m. maybe," Jungwoo plopped himself at the foot of the bed. I turn my body to face him.

   "Are you doing okay? Ready to leave your room?" A humorous smile spread across his face. I swallow hard and avert my eyes.

   "I'm better, but I don't want to see anyone else," I glance back at Jungwoo, "You're the only one I can trust who isn't insane." Jungwoo's smile turned into one of empathy, and he nodded slowly.

   "I understand, and I'm flattered to hear you trust me, but it's been 3 days and you should have resumed training by now. Plus, you have to begin with weapons too." His voice was soft, but also had a rough edge to it. I groan, letting my head fall into my hands.

   "Do I have to? Why can't everyone leave me alone?"

   "If I'm bothering you I can go. And I suggest you tidy up and follow me or Mark will barge in and forcefully bring you to training." Jungwoo shot up from the bed and started for the door, his comforting aura quickly dissolving. I spring up and stare at him puzzled.

   "Did I offend you? How... I'm sorry I-"

   "It doesn't matter right now, just get cleaned up and meet me in the main room." He gave me one last glance before vanishing behind the door, giving it a forceful close. I stand staring at the door, confused as to what ticked him off, but brushed it off and headed for the bathroom.

♦⟺♦

   The door closed with a gentle click, my back flat against the wood. Voices could be heard down the hall, some deadpan and others cheery. I slide my feet along the wooden floor, stepping hesitantly, and make my way to the end of the hall. The voices were louder now, and I could make out one to be Jungwoo's. I turn the corner and am met with 3 men. Jungwoo sits on the back of the couch, now in a flowy dress shirt, watching the two other men converse. One of the men, who looks familiar, stands over the other boy. He has on a black tank top, the arm holes longer than typical shirts, and grey sweatpants. A red headband keeps his coffee-brown hair out of his eyes as he stares at the other boy. The boy is sitting on one of the cushions of the couch, facing the man, with a small, metal blade in hand. His hair, a mess of blonde and brown, is hidden underneath a cap.

   "Took you long enough, let's go," Jungwoo said, slipping off the edge of the couch into a steady walk.

   "Bye Jungwoo!" The boy on the couch waved his hand, the blade he was holding slicing through the air.

   "Jesus Christ, you have a knife in your hand Jisung, remember that," The other man reproached.

   Jungwoo shut the door before the boy, Jisung, had time to reply. He chuckled to himself and shook his head, climbing the stairs. I followed closely behind.

   "Where's weapons training?" I ask, catching the door before letting it slam shut. Jungwoo and I enter the other main room, one that isn't underground.

   "Next to where you train in combat. You go through that door off to the right, and you pass through our main arsenal, and it's behind the only other door in that room." Jungwoo held the kitchen door open, gesturing for me to walk through. I nod a 'thank you' and walk into the kitchen, Jungwoo trailing behind. Surprisingly, the kitchen and living room were bare; no one was working at the large table, or washing dishes. Jungwoo brushed past me, leading me to the lone door I know all too well.

   "This is where I'll leave you. I have important business to attend to, so I won't be able to stop by like I have been," Jungwoo playfully smirked, "And I'm not mad Yubin, you can relax." I let out a breath of air I didn't realize I was holding and he chuckled, patting my shoulder. "Good luck." He gave me a sweet smile before turning away and quickly exiting the room.

   I grasp the handle of the door and hesitate before opening it. The people down there are most likely the ones that were in the room with Hayoon. I still shudder when I remember their stone faces scowling at the bleeding body. I just have to get through training and I can go back to my room, where I know I'm safe. Doyoung is my teacher; he's better than Mark, both have short tempers, but at least Doyoung knows how to control his. 'This might be fun, who knows.'

   I snap out of my thoughts to be faced with the thick metal door of the training room. My fingers close around the cool, steel handle, yanking the door open. The room hasn't changed since the day I started training. The punching still swayed despite the air being still, the lights still beamed down at me, the mirrors were still cloudy with fingerprints and stains; everything was left the way it was since the last time I was here. It felt nostalgic, almost, returning after what felt like weeks.

   I turn to my right, as Jungwoo said, and see a door similar to the one I just walked through: a dusty metal with a steel handle. I step towards it, my heart thumping widely in my chest, and curl my fingers around it. I tug, but it wouldn't budge. I furrowed my brows, and tug harder, hard enough that my arms stung.The door creaked open sluggishly and I hurriedly jumped through the small opening, the door closing with a deep boom. The room was slim, only a couple people could stand shoulder to shoulder along the width of it, and gloomy. A small light on the wall to my right illuminated a tiny patch of the room, but from what I could see, the room was long and slender, with high ceilings that seemed to stretch on for days. Something lined the walls, but even though there was a light inside the room, I couldn't see anything clearly. I couldn't see the other door Jungwoo was talking about either.

   Muffled clunks and bangs sounded and a ray of light spilled into the room. A silhouette of a person appeared in the light, and stood for a moment waving his arm up and down. Then the room erupted with blinding white light, the intensity causing my eyes to stamp shut. I hear a scoff and a throaty laugh, a laugh that sent a wave of chills down my spine.

   "Quit fucking around in the dark and attend your training session Kang," I peel my eyes back at the nickname. He stands behind another door, his head peeking out. From what I can see, he isn't in his typical attire, a suit and slick leather shoes. His hair is concealed beneath a black cap, small tufts of dirty blonde poking out from the material. 'But I thought his hair was black...'

   Mark vanishes into the other room, leaving me alone. As I slowly make my way over to the ajar door, I take a quick glance at the wall, and my jaw nearly hits the ground. From the ground to nearly the ceiling, weapons of all sorts lined the walls, each hung from their own set of metal prongs to keep them aloft. Guns every size and shape, with several magazines and cases labeled 'BULLETS' in big, red letters accompanying each weapon, filled the walls of the room. Daggers, blades, explosives, anything you could imagine could injure and kill a person was hung along these walls. Both walls uncased me with dangerous weapons with murderous intentions behind each and every barrel and trigger.

   My foot slams into the metal door on the other side of the room. My jaw clamps shut and a pained groan escapes through my gritted teeth. I was gawking at the walls for so long I didn't realize my legs moving. I recover and peer around the door, stepping cautiously into the room. It wasn't too different from the other practice room, but it had its own variations. The room was still a grey concrete box, with long, gleaming lights lining the ceiling. Benches stationed themselves along the walls, each spread an equal distance from each other. But instead of a punching bag swinging through the still air, there were cloth-covered mannequins, with their bottoms halves missing. They had cuts, slashes, and edges missing; they looked beaten and destroyed, but aren't they supposed to look like that? Instead of mirrors there was thick glass behind the mannequins, polycarbonate by the looks of it. Through the glass I could see more mannequins piled lazily in the corners, some of the cloth covering peeling back to show wood bodies.

   "Ay," A quick snap of someone's fingers fishes me from my thoughts, "We have things to get done, so finish staring at our arsenal and grab a pair of gloves and a pouch." My eyes fall to Doyoung, who is wearing a pair of messy dress pants and a large navy tank top. My heart sinks. Both Mark and Doyoung are with me, and if one of them can make me scared, then I'm terrified to find out what both of their tempers can cause.

   I scan the room and find a pair of fingerless gloves and a small, velcro pouch spread out along a bench. I stroll over and pick up the gloves, spinning them in my palms. From over my fingers, I could see Mark staring at me with a wry smirk. I slip the gloves on my hand, the leather compressing my fingers and hand, as the straps flap wildly. As I pull the straps tight around the back of my hand, I close and open my hands, forming fists then spreading them back out. The leather and straps hug my hands a little too much; it feels like someone is slightly crushing my hand, but not with too much pressure to crack any bones.

   "Kang!" I flick my eyes over to Mark, who is stiffly slouched onto his knees. "Training started 20 minutes ago, and you wasted all those 20 minutes staring at shit." I hold my arms close to my chest with my palms spread wide, like how people stand when policemen show up. "Geez, sorry. I'll hurry up." My voice was dripping with sarcasm. Whatever fear I had coming down here was long gone. 'It's just like every other training day.'

   "Alright, to get started, you need to know some simple safety precautions, which should be common sense by now," Doyoung appeared beside me, holding his own pouch. "First off, be aware of which hand has your weapon in it. We've had multiple hospital trips due to idiotic things like that." I smile to myself, remembering the boy Jisung. "And secondly, use your brain. If someone is firing a sniper rifle, don't walk in front of the barrel. If someone is throwing knives or practicing their aim for explosives, stay out of their way and don't distract them. It's simple really, and yet the juniors have the hardest time with it." He sounded melancholy as he talked. Doyoung opens his pouch and uncovers three thin, yet deadly throwing knives. Each one had a black rubber hilt and holes about finger size at its end. The blade came to a sharp point, the light reflecting off it's tip.

   "These are your average throwing knives. Sharp enough to puncture wood, but not large enough to cause serious injury. This is what you'll be working with until you can do this," Doyoung turned to face me, his body perpendicular to the mannequins. He pocketed two of the knives and held one with the tips of his fingers. He held the knives with such dexterity and gracefulness as he twirled it around his finger, before thrusting his arm back and slingshotting it forward. The knife whizzed through the air and stabbed at the center of the head, right between where the eyes would have been. It happened so fast that if you blinked, you could have missed it.

   "I have to do that? I can barely fight back against a punching bag and you expect me to throw a knife without it bouncing off and potentially cutting someone?"

   "Glad you admitted it," Mark commented. I could hear the smirk on his lips.

   "Why is he here? " I exclaim, leaving Doyoung wide-eyed.

   "Slow it down," His voice was calm, almost like Jungwoo's, "Yes, you are going to be able to do that. Maybe not as fluidly as me, but you'll be able to throw a knife without it flying back at you. Mark is here because not only is he your combat trainer, but your boss. And since the majority of the people here, me and Mark included, still don't trust you, we aren't leaving you alone."

   "But I'm alone when I'm in my room, aren't I?" The question frightened me a bit as it left my mouth.

   "Cameras, sweetheart. But don't worry, we don't check them often, and we don't see anything we don't need to see." A sly smile curled along his lips, and I frown."But that's not relevant right now, we need to get you started. So pull out one of the knives and aim it as you would a gun.

   I detach the velcro strap and slip out one of the knives. It looks more menacing up close, the metal so crystal clean. I wrap my finger around the circle at its end, the metal cool underneath my knuckle. I swivel my body to my side, positioning myself in the same way Doyoung was, and outstretch my arm. My arm aligns itself with the knife, making a nearly straight line. The blade trembles slightly, out of fear or concentration I'm not sure.

   "First, move over so you're facing a dummy," I shuffle over to align myself with one of the mannequins. I have to stop myself from spinning around and pointing the tip of the knife at Mark. "Good, now relax. Just imagine your throwing a baseball for your dog to run after. Let your arm fold back and launch forward." I glance at Doyoung and he gives me a soft nod, and I inhale deeply. 'This is just like archery, Yubin. It's no sweat.'

   I exhale the pent-up air, and fold my arm back, so that the blade grazes the back of my neck. It tickles the hairs along my nape, and I smile at the nostalgic feeling. My eyes zone in on the dummy, disregarding the sudden shuffles behind me. All my attention is on the knife and the mannequin. Nothing else matters right now; all I need to think about is nailing the knife dead center into its head.

   I close my eyes, inhaling sharply, before wrenching them back open and plunging my arm forward. The tips of my fingers loose grip of the knife as the weapon flies through the air. A dull, yet resonating, sound came from the other end of the room. My eyes widen, then narrow and I smirk. The knife stuck itself inside the mannequins head, right about where the tip of its nose would be. A sense of pride blooms in my chest and I retract my arm, letting it fall by my side. I tilt my head back to look at Doyoung, who has a look of astonishment covering his face. My smirk grows wider, and I slump down from my straight position I didn't know I was in.

   "Don't look so pleased with yourself, I was able to do that first try also," Mark leant back against the wall, picking at his fingers. I roll my eyes.

   "Everything has to be about you," I mumble, combing back a few loose strands of hair. Mark shot a glare my way, but I paid no attention to it. I had my eyes fixed on Doyoung, whose mouth was agape but no words came out. "Look, I left him speechless."

   Doyoung scoffed out a laugh, dropping his head before picking it up not a moment later. "It was impressive, I'll admit that, but you've had practice like this before, so you're pretty accustomed to it." Doyoung tightened his gloves. "I'll have you do more of those firing drills, slip in a few advanced throws here and there, and we'll call it a day." He smiled, a quick, stressy smile, before brushing past me and disappearing into the room I came from.

   "He seems a little jumpy, don't you think?" I say, pulling out another knife from the pouch inside my pocket.

   "He's just stressed. We're having to travel to our headquarters up in Melbourne because one of our shipments got stolen. They're hiding it near Melbourne. Poor choice to store it there..." Mark took interest in another pouch of knives, pulling them out and flipping them between his fingers. I launch another knife at the mannequin, the blade lodging itself a few inches above my previous one. The same sense of accomplishment floods through my veins, making me feel tall and powerful.

   "What does Doyoung mean you've had practice like this before? Have you snuck down here and taught yourself how to throw? Certainly not, I would have heard..." Mark trails off, walking up to stand a few feet away from me.

   "Don't you remember?" Mark shakes his head, firing another glare at me. "When you captured me, Jungwoo brought you my files, which apparently had all my information in it. Someone commented that I had a background in archery, and it seems like that went over your head." Mark grumbled something incoherent, one of the knives he was holding slamming itself into the dummy's head, almost knocking it over.

   "So since you've been in archery classes, you have exceptional aim and precision. Excellent; that means less training and less time I have to spend with your loud mouth." A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. There it was. That damned smirk.

   "And less time with your annoying as-"

   "Enough with the bickering, you're acting like children," Doyoung barked from the other room. I chuckled and turned towards his voice, seeing him reappear with several rifles hanging off both his shoulders and multiple cases wrapped around his fingers. He nearly threw the cases down, shrugging off the guns and catching them as they each fell. He lined up the cases, 5 in total, along the wall to my right, checking the locks on each. He propped the guns next to the cases, about 8 rifles leaning against the wall. The sight was ominous; what were they going to do with it all?

   "Owning that many guns has to be illegal," I say, dropping my arm from its linear position.

   "It is." Mark pushes past me, letting the knives in his hand clatter to the floor. I side-eye him before returning the remaining knife into its pouch and following Mark. He stops at one of the rifles and lifts it effortlessly. He spins it in his hands before scoffing out an airy laugh. "Jeez, AR-15's. Who the hell stole our shipment?"

   "No one important, just a little lot of boys attempting something big." Doyoung ripped the knives from the mannequins, small wood chips fluttering to the floor.

   "Then why are we bringing these?" He shook the gun.

   "Mark, this is Melbourne we're talking about. Kingston is pretty fucked up, but in recent years, Melbourne has started to surpass our city." Doyoung bit his lip, looking nervous and frustrated. "Plus, 17 is also stationed at Melbourne. We just dealt with Monsters, and if 17 tries anything, we know we are prepared." Mark turned stern at the mention of the other gang. He set down the gun, with an air of solemnity surrounding him.

   "Since we're taking this extreme of precautions, who are all transferring bases?" Mark shifted his gaze from Doyoung, who is picking up after the both of us, to me. He had an expressionless face on, but I swear I could see a hint of scorn. Doyoung turned to face Mark, strolling over and dusting his hands on his pants.

   "Well, Jaehyun is staying here to supervise the juniors. Boss wants both you and Johnny, but that's a given. Captains are all going, and with the possibility of 17 paying an unexpected visit, Taeyong will choose who goes and who stays." Doyoung tossed Mark's discarded knives at him, catching them with great agility. He gritted his teeth and hissed out a curse, inspecting his knuckle. Doyoung smirked, bending down and examining one of the cases.

   "Am I going?" I ask, tugging at the gloves.

   "More than likely," Mark said, shaking his hand before whirling one of the knives on his finger like nothing happened. I swallow hard. "I won't, and I'm sure as hell Taeyong wouldn't, leave you here without one of the Bosses. Jaehyun is fully capable of monitoring you, but the Boss would rather have himself or me watch you. And that means you get to come with us to Melbourne." I press my lips into a thin line. 'Leaving this place could help me escape better, but I just need time.' Several emotions swirl around inside my head, but I push them away.

   "God, it's like I'm a toddler all over again." Mark chuckles, pocketing the knives and strolling past me, knocking my shoulder with his. I fire a glare at him as he passes.

   "I'll leave you alone Doyoung, let you get back to packing for our vacation." Doyoung sends a sarcastic smile at Mark. "We need to get back to training," I groan, rolling my eyes dramatically.

   But beneath the resentment I held for Mark and his insane training schedules, a newly blooming liking for it started to form.

   But I would never admit it. 

yall, these past few weeks have been stressful aFF

interviewing kids for your school's newspaper when you have tONs of social anxiety aint that fun

but on a lighter note, that other story i was talkin about is comin out real soon

like a week or so soon

that may mean updates for this will get pushed back a bit, but the new story will also get updates like man in the alley is

whatever the previous didnt make sense anyway NEW BOOK BITCHES!!

Thanxx for reading!!