By KnightHunter

Hwoarang limped into his cheap hotel room. It had started raining, and when he arrived into the lobby he was soaking wet. "I don't know what the clerk stared at more, my soaked clothes or..." he winced as he touched one of the many bruises that were visible. He sighed as he dropped his duffle on the floor and sat down on the small bed.

"Damn!" he cursed as his gingerly raised his shirt. His ribs seemed to scream as he raised his arms higher to remove the blood-stained object. His head throbbed, his neck felt stiff, and simply looking down to pull off the remaining clothes caused a wave of dizziness and pain so severe he nearly blacked out.

He groaned as he stood and walked to the bathroom. He barely recognised himself, save for his hair, for his face was swollen or blacken in various places. He nearly laughed out loud when he realised that, given the extensive damage done to the most of his face, which Jin somehow managed to avoid breaking his nose or knock out any of his teeth.

"Fucking show off." He smirked, causing the small cut on his lip to split further. He sucked the small pool of blood from the cut and spit into the sink.

His torso looked like a giant bruise. He was sure he had a few cracked ribs. The red-head stood in the bathroom for awhile, before he decided he was too tired to attempt to take a shower.

Hwoarang crossed the room and lay down on the bed, and closed his eyes. He was far from comfortable, his body felt like he had been hit by truck. "Ok, I feel worse than when I got hit by that truck." Hwoarang admitted to himself as he ran his finger across the scar on the palm of his hand, the only visible reminder of his first brush with death. "Damn truck drivers." he cursed to himself.

"Fuck it all!" he groaned as he sat up. He was exhausted, beaten, but he couldn't get to sleep. He slowly stood, bent over, and pulled an oversized button down shirt and a pair of baggy pants from his duffle. His too-beat-up-to-wear-anything-else clothes.

Hwoarang dressed as quickly as he could, and stepped outside onto the miniscule balcony. He sighed loudly as he breathed in the cool rain-filled night air. It was that damned question that kept him awake.

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" Jin had asked him after the fight. "You can't beat me."

If I had just one tear running down your cheek
Maybe I could cope maybe I'd get some sleep
If I had just one moment at your expense
Maybe all my misery would be well spent

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" he asked himself mimicking Jin's deeply accented English.

"I haven't got nothing better to do than follow you around, to get my ass kicked, and then follow you some more, just to get my ass kicked again." he answered sarcastically.

At first, his challenges to Jin ended in an endless stream of draws. Back then, they were equally matched. He don't know when he finally lost to him, it was so long ago. It was far beyond the simple childhood rivalry that he held onto almost religiously as a teenager, he was a grown man now, too old to keep chasing after the Japanese fighter.

Yeah... Could you cry a little?
Lie just a little
Pretend that you're feeling a little more pain
I gave now I 'm wanting
Something in return
So cry just a little for me

"You can't beat me." Jin's voice repeated in his mind.

Jin Kazama had somehow gotten under his skin. He was like a terminal illness that was slowly destroying his body. An addictive drug. No matter what he did, all his thoughts turned to Jin. He had almost beaten Jin in a battle after the fourth tournament, a battle that had ended in yet another draw, due to the damned military trying to arrest him. After that near victory, he began a glorious losing streak.

He wanted to get under Jin's skin. He wanted to fill Jin's thoughts. Hwoarang wanted to break through his icy exterior, craved to see Jin express anything other than his always present scowl and intense glare.

That night, after he lost, he had cried. Broke down and sobbed like a schoolgirl as he sat there on the wet pavement. Jin kneeled down, and patted him on the top of his head like he was a puppy. He smiled. An honest to goodness smile. Almost made the beating worth it.

Give it up
I hear your goodbye
Nothings going to save me
I can see it in your eyes

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

Give it a try
I don't want pity
I just want what is mine

"Why do you let me?"

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