Author's Notes: Warning for all you lil kiddies, there's mention of Rape, (but it doesn't actually happen) and Hwoarang's turning kinda into a masochist, but it'll show more in future chapters. maybe. R&R or I'll be coming for you!

Oh and Sapphire17, Thank you for pointing out that little tidbit, lol I should have known! Well Now I know for future fictions, but I'm too lazy too change this one hehe. Maybe I'll just lie and say it was intended. Sound good?

**Disclaimer**: Even though I do not own Tekken, I do have Hwoarang trapped in a cardboard box. I suppose I don't technically own him, but we'll just see what happens.

Stuck In My Ways

Chapter 4 - Hungry For The Crash

By Chlover

Earlier, Sarah had run in, screaming something about Hwoarang getting kidnapped. It was the most ridiculous thing Julia had ever heard. She laughed, until Tom came in insisting that Hwoarang attacked him and helped the middle-aged Mishima. What was going on? So Julia allowed Sarah and Tom to both explain what had happened. It all was hard to listen to, but the situation was clear.

Hours later, the young troubled girl sat alone in her apartment, not knowing where to look. Her friends had left earlier to give her some privacy. Hwoarang must have tried to help Kazuya Mishima, only to be forced to go along at knifepoint. But where, and why? What use would the Blood Talon be to that demon? Was Hwoarang still alive?

The question was short lived.

The door slowly opened and the topic of the day, himself, walked in. He was walking stiffly, and seemed to be suffering through pain. Julia ran to him, her face streaked with tears, but she knew better then to touch him before knowing exactly where he was hurt. She noticed he was carrying a magazine.

He dropped the magazine on the chair by the window, and crossed the room, letting himself fall face first onto the bed. After a moment, he spoke into the sheets, "For some reasons the stores here are closed on Sundays," The pain was even obvious in his voice, despite his attempt to mask it, "I picked that shit up at a newsstand."

"Hwoarang. Sarah told me Kazuya had a knife to you, making you drive him somewhere," She noted the surprised intake of breath, "What happened?"

Silence. The Korean didn't answer for a while. It must have been a big attack on his pride to have his good intentions taken advantage of. Julia frowned, guessing it would make it harder to make a better man out of him, after something like that happens.

"Where did he hurt you?"

"He didn't hurt me," The Korean snapped, "Let it go, Julia."

She could feel another tear escape her eye. Why did he always have to be so stubborn? Why couldn't he just admit that he was in pain? "Don't lie to me! Do you think I'm blind? I can see that you're in pain! Anyone could see that! What did he do? Did he cut you? Did he beat on you? What?"

"Let it fucking go," Hwoarang ordered, angrily, "I'm not in the mood to get interrogated."

Suddenly she thought about the way her boyfriend was walking. She gasped and sat on the bed beside the man, "He raped you, didn't he? That explains how you were walking and why you're not laying on your back. You should have told me. You need to go see a doctor!"

Hwoarang got to his feet and glared at Julia, "What part of Let it go don't you understand? He didn't fucking rape me, so you can just get that insulting idea out of your fucking skull. He didn't cut me, he didn't beat me, he didn't do anything. Nothing fucking happened. You got your magazine, so be a good little girl and shut the fuck up."

Normally such words would really anger Julia, but she knew that was exactly what he was trying to do. It wouldn't work. Was there any way to get him to admit it? "Hwoarang, I love you too much to let something like this go."

"Something like this? You don't even know what the fuck this is!"

"Then tell me!"

He shook his head and turned toward the door, "Fine. If you won't leave me the fuck alone, I'll go somewhere else."

Julia could see it wasn't working out. She lay down, putting her face in a pillow and cried. It was the first time she had ever really cried in front of Hwoarang, but she couldn't stop herself. It was frightening imagining what could have happened to her boyfriend. Rape? Hwoarang? Julia could feel the anxiety and worry for Hwoarang and the angry despite for Kazuya, contrast so much, causing her body to tremble violently with the sobs. The more she tried to stop, the harder she trembled.

The angry redhead looked back at his girlfriend, appearing to be troubled by her crying. He opened the door, and closed it again, trying to decide how to handle the situation. After a moment or two of perplexity, he left, closing the door silently behind him.

Goddamn cheap motels. Goddamn weak showers. Goddamn shitty shampoo. Goddamn horrible lighting. Goddamn Country. Goddamn existence!

Hwoarang let the weak water pressure fall down on his back in a little less then a spray. He didn't even bother taking anymore then his jacket off before hitting the shower in his new room. The water going down the drain was a bit pink. At least that meant he didn't bleed much.

The vision of Julia sobbing all alone in that room haunted Hwoarang, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it from the cheap motel. The water was barely helping. He needed something stronger. Just about every muscle in his body was aching from his encounter. His raw back stung, but felt a little better with the water on it. Finally Hwoarang peeled off his shirt and let the water at his back directly.

He pushed his forehead against the wall and closed his eyes. It felt relaxing. The warm water flowed down his stinging back, and easing some of his sore muscles. Hwoarang groaned as he stood up straight. The water hadn't helped as much as he had thought. Oh well.

A creaking noise came from the other room. Someone was there. Shit. Who could it be? Who knew where he went? Nobody he knew of. Then again he did sign in with his supposed name, 'Hwoarang'. How was he to know that he was so popular? He turned off the shower. Yes. Someone was definitely there.

Hwoarang stepped out of the shower, not bothering to dry himself off, and headed for the door. Whoever it was, wanted to be heard, or they were incredibly sloppy. He stepped into the next room, his pants weighed down by the water, and threatening to fall off. Even though he knew it wasn't so, he was partly hoping that it was Kazuya waiting for him.


"Tom," The Korean replied, "What are you doing here, and how the fuck did you get in my room?"

Tom smiled, "I think I'll be asking the questions, sport." He paused and took in the ever growing anger on the other man's face, "Julia's deeply hurt by your irresponsible behaviour. How can you treat her like that?"

Hwoarang bared his teeth, grabbed Tom by the collar, and rammed him into the wall. He smirked as he watched the American struggle to breath after such an impact, "You have absolutely NO right to confront me on subjects you know nothing about. Julia hurt herself by making stupid assumptions about what happened when she didn't see a damn thing. Nobody seen a damn thing, so why don't you, and your little new-age hippie friends stay in your own goddamn business?"

Hwoarang let go and turned around, completely forgetting about his wounds. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes off of the bed, and lit one. Tom gasped at the sight, "Holy shit, Hwoarang. That guy really did. hurt you. didn't he?"

"Hurt?" The Korean turned back to the American, "If you don't get out of here right now, I'll beat a whole new definition of the word hurt into your fucking head."

Tom didn't argue. He nodded and ran out the door.

Hwoarang sat on the edge of the bed, and cursed. There was no way he could get rid of the uncomfortable pain via normal means. It was weird. He hated the pain but he wanted to be afflicted with more. Fresh pain was almost sweet, until time made it uncomfortable. But sometimes only pain could cure pain. Even the desire for more pain was painful.

The redheaded Korean slipped on a Jacket, ignoring his shirts. The cold might sooth his back somewhat. So would alcohol, probably, but that wasn't what he was going for. He left the motel, locking his door behind him, Hopped on his bike, checked himself in the mirror, and sped off.

Not everything had a simple answer, but something's did. This was just one of those things.

Hwoarang knocked on the large door, his hair frozen in disarray. Quite the amusing sight. At first nothing happened, and the Korean was afraid he wasted all that gas for nothing. Where else was he supposed to look? He couldn't find the Japanese man anywhere in town, so this was the last resort. Just as Hwoarang was turning around in defeat, the door slid open.

Was that a smile? If it was, it quickly turned to a smirk. Kazuya seemed smug about something. He opened the door wider, and moved out of the way, welcoming the Korean inside. "I've been expecting you," He whispered, closing the door, "but before we get to why you are here, allow me to numb your wounds."

"How did you know I'd come back?"

"I've had plenty of experience with boys like you," Kazuya smiled, "Once you've had a taste of impact, you're always hungry for the crash."

Hwoarang winced as Kazuya pulled off his Jacket. The older man eased him down to sit on a low wooden table that sat where the bed of nails once was. The Japanese man sat down behind the Korean. Before Hwoarang could voice the issues on his mind, something cold and wet stroked his back. Now that was soothing. He sighed with ease and closed his eyes. "What is that, Mishima-kun?"

"An ice cube," Kazuya answered, switching hands, "Does it feel a little better?"

Hwoarang nodded and turned around, "Hurt me."

"Beg," Kazuya ordered, standing up.

Hwoarang stood too, "No. Now fucking hurt me or I'll hurt you."

Kazuya smirked and walked over to the chest, "Alright. But next time, I guarantee you'll beg."

That said, Kazuya stood and faced the younger man. Something that looked like rope was wound up. The older man faced Hwoarang and with a brief snap of the wrist, it unravelled and snapped into the air. Hwoarang's eyes widened and he automatically stepped back, falling back onto the table. It was a whip.




A/N: You think I should carry out the scene into the next chapter? LOL! Maybe if you beg prettily, I will. or if you don't like my "love" scenes, I guess. then I won't do it, hehe.

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