anonymously requested! | CW: physical fighting, c¡garettes (at your own risk!)

he wasn’t just an ordinary student at the college you went to. both of you were seatmates, troublemakers to specify. clearly, you two never got along. if you ever did, you’d probably be trapped in smoking cigarettes with him in a random alleyway and pouncing on guys who dared to hurt or harm anyone.

but he was skilled. a streetfighter; a boxer. he knew his shit. he never backed out for a fight and he never lost them. probably because he’d been practicing on you, too, not only in the gym with those punching bags. both of you thought it was just for play, for pretend. how you’d take care of his every wound just how he’d bandage your every scar.

when you were walking up on campus, there was a large crowd circling a random pit of dirt. out of curiousity you walk over to check out the commotion. the further you went inside, the more pressured you felt. that’s when you were pushed to the center with bangchan standing right in front of you.

“So, you think you’re better, huh?” He grips your hair and lifts your head up forcefully. Taking advantage of your state on the ground, he fists up and throws a satisfying hit to your face with a blow. Your head fell back with force, and he didn’t wait for you to get another second to think. He acted up again, taking your neck in his grasp. “You shittalker. Spreading rumours, now, are we?”