One

2K 85 15
                                    




Wren breathed in the smell of smoke, and the stench of rubber mats stained with years of sweat. The unpleasant aroma was like home to her, it filled her lungs— sharpening her senses.

She bounced on her toes. Lithe. Light. Free.

The loud music and cheers from the rambunctious crowd caused her heart to pump faster and her adrenaline to spike. She raised her black boxing gloves in front of her face, feeling her fingers already going numb from the tightness of the tape beneath.

She eyed her opponent from behind her mask—a man, a foot taller than her, toned to perfection, and smiling with satisfaction in his eyes.

He looked like he'd already won.

Wren hated that smug look. And she was eager to wipe it off his face.

The bell sounded and Wren didn't waste a second. What she didn't have in bulk or brawn she made up for in stealth and speed. She danced around him, with the grace of a delicate ballerina. Probably due to the ten years of dancing her mother had forced her to take. As much as she'd hated her time in a leotard and ballet flats she was grateful for her trained grace now.

She dodged a quick jab, quickly evading her opponents hearty swings—biding her time.  She had to wait for the perfect time to strike.

She remained coiled, in position, dodging ruthless swings left and right. She would need to allow him one hit, for the show of course.

The frustration formed on her opponents brow, and that's when Wren knew he was no longer so sure of his victory. Seeing him humbled she finally allowed herself to take a jab to his side. Her glove made contact with his ribs and the crowd went wild.

Her opponent grunted at the contact, but recovered quickly.

Wren grinned beneath her mask, and the man growled. He called himself Sugar Hitman. Not very unique of a name, in her opinion.

She landed another swift punch to his side, easing him into the corner, and then allowed him one hit to her arm. The crowd began to chant her name, revving her up for the final moments of the match.

"Nightingale, Nightingale, Nightingale."

The chanting didn't cease, spurring her into the moment where she forgot reality. Sometimes she would get so lost in the fight, she'd lose track of where she was, who she was, and all she could focus on was the movement of her fists.

She entered the euphoric state of the fight, giving into its siren call.

Then she landed one last punch straight to her opponents face, knocking Sugar Hitman straight into the ropes. His body slumped against the side of the ring.

The match was won. It felt like a couple minutes when in reality it had been almost ten.

The crowd went wild, the referee raised her gloved hand to show that she'd won and that's when the money came rolling in. So many bills were pressed into her pockets as she hurried through the masses.

She crouched beneath the ropes and brushed past shoulders and drunken bystanders to the locker room. When she was finally freed from the chaos, Sang found her and immediately began helping her undo her taped hands.

"Its midnight, we must get you back before your mother finds you gone," Sang said, worry creasing his brow indefinitely. Wren felt sort of bad for aging him. For a thirty year old man he was starting to look more like he was middle aged.

"I'll make it. Is my car ready?"

"Yes, it's in the alley waiting for you."

Wren showed Sang her pockets, displaying the money. "Look what I made tonight."

His eyes widened, and then when he recovered, he hurried to help her shrug into her sweatsuit and laid out her sneakers for her. "You did well tonight," he admitted, and Wren grinned still attempting to catch her breath after the match.

"Admit it, you love coming to these matches as much as me," she said and Sang groaned.

"Maybe I would enjoy them if I wasn't worried I was going to lose my job every time I agreed to it."

Wren put her hand on her bodyguard's shoulder after lacing up her shoes. "You aren't going to lose your job."

He sighed. "I appreciate your assurance, but I'd feel much more assured if you got into your car and headed home before your mother wakes up."

Wren grinned and nodded. Standing up with all her things now stowed away in her duffel, and her hands free of the sports tape, she looked back at Sang and grinned.

"Race you home?"

Sang sighed. "I will follow behind at a safe speed, Wren. Do not get in trouble tonight. Keep the speed limit."

She nodded, biting her lip. "I'll do my best."

He was about to say something more, no doubt to lecture her further about not breaking the law. But she opened the door that led into the alley and the heavy metal door shut behind her with a resonating slam—all of Sang's worried warnings abruptly cut off.

Her Lamborghini was sitting patiently outside of Daejeon Aura, the club where she most often had matches. The car was parked in the darkness, its sleek violet exterior seemingly black in the night. The smell of sewer water and wet pavement hit her senses and she rushed to evade the stench—opening the driver's side door she hurried to wiggle into her leather seat. Wren turned the car on, her engine roaring to life and music instantly blaring through her speakers.

Headlights flicked on behind her, no doubt Sang's car. She liked driving, so she refused to let him chauffeur her around. She'd agreed to let him follow her instead.

Wren peeled her mask off and threw it onto the passenger side as she pulled out of the alleyway and onto the streets of Seoul. She felt the gears of her car shift beneath her. The power in the palm of her hand and at the sole of her foot was utterly thrilling.

She raced past the busy nightlife that illuminated everything. Neon lights and billboards casting colorful shafts of light onto the streets.  Cars and people crowded everything. Nothing was at peace. The buildings seemed to breathe something more vicious and bright than in the light of day. It was a beautiful scene. The dark side of Seoul. The shadows of the city somehow alive.

This was where she thrived.

This was where she belonged.





A\N:

I didn't think I would write another story after Jimin's but I just had this idea come into my head and I had to write it down. This is going to be Jungkook's love story. Of course all scenarios are fictional.

I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter and I will update as much as possible. More frequent updates will appear once I complete With You, Jimin's fictional story, which I am very close to completing.

Can't wait to start this new story! I'm so excited :) And as always, if you enjoyed this first chapter don't forget to vote! The support means the world to me <3

~ Sasha

My You | Jungkook FanFicWhere stories live. Discover now