Yoosung felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him. 

"Yoosung? C'mon, the tournament's today!" 

The blond curled in a ball, turning away. "Leave me alone, Cylus," he mumbled. 

"Nope! Get up." 

Yoosung felt like crying again. He slowly lifted his head to face his younger bunkmate, who's bedhead was as wild and messy as ever. Cylus's eyes widened. 

"Shit, dude, what happened to you." 

Yoosung closed his eyes and sighed. "Let's just go," he said quietly, and got out of bed, following his dorm into the hallway. 

Cylus followed silently behind Yoosung, worried eyes watching as his friend slumped. Something was definitely wrong...

The cafeteria was more rowdy than usual, due to the tournament. Men and women flexed in front of their peers, trying to intimidate. 

Yoosung kept his head down, sitting silently at the table while Jaehee and Cylus chatted excitedly.

Am I supposed to hate V too? I don't know how to feel... 

Yoosung didn't look up when he heard Saeran enter the room. How dare he?

 Saeran's voice ricocheted off the walls, filling Yoosung's heart with dread, "Good morning, Cold brothers and sisters." A roar met his ears in return and he grinned, forcing his eyes to avert Yoosung. 

Saeran's logic was stupid. He thought if he avoided Yoosung, he would just stop being so... gay. And stop having feelings for Yoosung, or whatever it was that he was feeling. Yoosung shouldn't want to get caught up in a mess like Saeran. That would mean Saeran having to admit his past. And he wasn't ready to face Saeyoung again. Not yet. Not ever. Saeran winced internally, hoping that this strange infatuation with Yoosung would disappear soon. 

"Welcome to the morning of the Tournament!" Everyone cheered, and Saeran forced a smirk, "Anyone can participate, but keep in mind, whoever wins... will face me!" Several mock threats flew at Saeran, calling for him to watch his back, they were coming. He grinned and shook his head, laughing it off. "I have an announcement, though! Due to requests by our dear Vanderwood, we're gonna have to limit our tournaments from now on. Only when unanimously voted for, will we hold one, as we don't need any more broken bones and bruises than we already have." There were a few boos, but most accepted the new conditions. 

Breakfast was fast, and Vanderwood approached Yoosung as he was following the crowd which was filing into the training room for the start of the tournament. 

"No," Vanderwood caught the silent Yoosung's arm, "We wait in the infirmary for the losers. I'll let you watch the final match, but you have a job to do. Also, what happened to your face?" Without pausing for Yoosung' answer, he rushed on, "Come on, let's go treat you first."

 Missing the tournament was fine with Yoosung; he didn't want to watch anyways, so he obediently followed Vanderwood to the infirmary, lifting his hand to poke at his cheek, which throbbed. 

Ten minutes later, as Yoosung sat with Emille, the first loser stumbled in, a grin on his bloodied face, large stomach bruising. Yoosung and Vanderwood quickly helped him to a bed and began treating him and getting details of his fight. 

"And then Ajax was like WHAM WHAM and poor ol' me is down. Ajax's a ruthless one, that's for sho'... knew he was mighty ferocious as soon as I seen him."

The man was then given an impromptu grammar lesson by an irritated Vanderwood, rolling his eyes. 

...

Patients began coming in at about ten-minute intervals after that, and Yoosung became exhausted quickly, running back and forth, Vanderwood barking at the 'patients' not to call the young blond pet names, which made Yoosung flush with embarrassment. 

Most injuries could be treated quickly, and they were just put in the beds to rest, but Yoosung sprung into action when a lanky teenager slumped into the infirmary, tears streaming down his face as his wrist hung limply, many of the patients respectfully applauding the teen for his bravery of facing a man named Dalton, who demolished the poor boy without any sense of mercy. 

"Usually he's all in good fun," the boy told Yoosung as he wrapped his wrist with gauze, "But some people just take the tournament way too far. We get like savages, we do, honest. It's hard to look at people the same when they fight. But the tournaments are important. We learn about ourselves, what we need to work on, understanding the pain and how to deal with it. We had a tournament outside once when I was a kid... My dad told me about it, cuz I can't remember it too well... That was before Saeran, and our leader wanted us to understand how to respect the cold, and not to be careless. 11 people got hypo... hypo..."

"Hypothermia?"

"Yeah, that. Tournaments weed us apart, and we get stronger every time. Boredom is more dangerous than a broken wrist, eh?"

Yoosung nodded slowly, and finished cementing the cast, molding it to the boy's arm carefully. 

"Thank you for telling me," he said quietly and the boy nodded. 

"What happened to you, doc?" He asked, and Yoosung frowned slightly, surprised, "Didja get hit too?" he joked. 

"Aheh. No, I... I tripped." This was the truth, even if it was embarrassing and much less manly than getting punched.

"Jeez. You clumsy?"

"A bit," Yoosung replied awkwardly. 

"Yoosung, I need you over here!" Vanderwood called, and Yoosung took the opportunity to escape the now stiff conversation.

"Make sure not to get that wet," he told the boy, and then walked to Vanderwood.

...

"No, I-"

"Yoosung, seriously, go watch the final match, and then come back and tell me everything. You've worked hard, and it's only for a few minutes. Saeran usually fights quickly." 

"Mr. Vanderwood-"

"Go on."

Yoosung, defeated, walked out of the infirmary and reluctantly walked towards the sound of the cheers, coming from the training room. This was the last thing he wanted to be doing, but he had no choice. 

Yoosung slipped silently through the door and looked around. Large stacks of crates and boxes provided the seats for the spectators, creating a bowl-like arena for one of the boxing rings that had been pulled into the center of the floor. People were crammed together, shouting, laughing, and gazing intently at the competitors. 

The two were stationed on either side of the ring. One was a man, giant, burly, and breathing heavily, sweat gleaming on his muscled chest, which was a dark tan. On the other side of the ring was Saeran, chatting casually with Jaehee, a small towel around his neck, grinning. 

Yoosung carefully climbed up onto a nearby box next to some members around his age, all laughing together. He perched awkwardly to the side and looked down, frowning at his situation. 

Did he have a right to be mad at Saeran? Yes. Did he deserve an explanation? Definitely. But how was Saeran supposed to apologize if Yoosung kept avoiding him? Hm.

Yoosung's mind kept drifting back to V, and the men in the kitchen throwing darts at him. Saeran could apologize and they could be okay again... But could Yoosung ever forgive V? For abandoning him? For leaving him alone with his parents? 

What had V done... Was he married to Rika? Was she the queen? Was he the king of Calida? 

All these thoughts were making Yoosung's head hurt, and, thankfully, this was the exact moment when Jaehee climbed up into the boxing ring and held up a hand for silence.

"Last match!" she shouted, "Dalton versus Saeran!" Cheers erupted from the crowd, and Yoosung sat up, gazing down at the ring. Dalton, presumably the man who had crushed the boy from the infirmary's wrist, grinned triumphantly, climbing into the ring, flexing his biceps.

Saeran grinned as he slipped into the ring too, and tossed the towel around his neck to the ground. 

Jaehee stood between them, holding two flags, one black, one white. She murmured a few words to the two of them, and then raised the black flag, jumping out of the way, "BEGIN!"

The two men sprung into action, and Yoosung could hardly keep up, watching as Dalton struck out with powerful fists, but Saeran dodged and ducked each deftly, grinning the whole time. 

The match went on for several minutes, both men each getting their fair share of punches. It was then that Saeran quickly looked up at the stands... and saw Yoosung. The blonde sat on the edge of his seat, leaning towards the ring, eyes wide.

Saeran's distraction was a flaw. Dalton sprang towards him and landed a punch on Saeran's stomach then sent him stumbling back, falling into the stretchy wires of the barriers that surrounded the ring. He coughed once, heaving, but ducked out of the way when Dalton went to hit him again and somehow slipped behind the giant man, then kicking him hard in the back with enough force to have Dalton sprawl forward on his stomach. 

Immediately, the crowd started counting down from 15, on their feet, excitedly cheering. "15, 14, 13!" Saeran immediately stepped forward and pressed his hands to Dalton, pushing him down, one on the man's head and the other on his shoulder. 

"12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7!" Saeran looked to be having a hard time, and his breath came in quick bursts, but his biceps didn't fail him. 

"6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!" Jaehee held up the white flag, and Saeran staggered back, away from Dalton, who immediately got up, shaking hands forcefully with the leader. 

Saeran fell to his knees.

...

Hope you liked! Agh I'm not good at writing combat >-< Yooran scene next chapter ;) Leave a vote and a comment please! <3