DR. WANGEL. And you, in your turn, are terrible, Ellida. You frighten. And yet you fascinate.
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WHEN Suho's knee shatters, he thinks he may as well have died in that ring.
For all the grandeur he exhibits as a fighter, to fall from grace with such monotony feels like a sin. One wrong kick that he failed to calculate hitting at just the wrong angle has taken from him the singular thing that is truly his own. The years he spent hardening his body and soul to ensure he could hang on tight to the gift that filled a void in him he seldom acknowledged – all wasted in a fraction of a fraction of a second.
And as he hits the ground, he comes to terms with the fact that it's not pain he's feeling. It's despair.
The gym goes silent. (Even the holiest of spaces has never seen a quiet so reverent.)
Suho bites down on a scream, the scream. His ears ring and his limbs go numb with adrenaline and if he could open his eyes, he convinces himself that perhaps this will reveal itself to be a nightmare. His coach has dialed 119 and the one who hammered the nail into his coffin sits in his corner, staring down at him with something just short of triumph. Everything is terrifyingly real in contrast to his delusions.
Because what an accolade it is – to not only down the unbeatable Ahn Suho, but to put an end to him entirely. There's a sick satisfaction in that somewhere; Suho knows this because he's felt it. He can't count how many times he's left others in this position. This must be karma saying it's finally sick of him.
What happens next is a blur. Men who smell like antiseptics hoist Suho onto a gurney after stabilizing his leg, asking him questions to see how lucid he is. Despite enduring this all with startling clarity, he doesn't take the bait. Words die in the trenches of his throat and there's a sob waiting in line to fall from his lips. But all the strength he possessed has been stripped away. He couldn't make a sound if he wanted to.
"He's in shock. He'll be more responsive once he's treated," one of the paramedics reassures Suho's trainer as they wheel him outside.
A crowd forms around the back of the ambulance. Their hushed tones and intrusive stares make a spectacle out of tragedy. Suho is one, at the end of the day. Another sob story of a kid whose dreams were cut short.
He can do nothing except watch himself get shoved into the vehicle from above, consciousness weak and fleeting the longer the pain persists. His heart rams so hard in his chest, he worries about his ribs. Oddly enough, dissociating never scared him until today. It's possible he's concussed after taking multiple blows to the face during the fight or maybe he's simply losing it. Whatever the case may be, he looks down at his broken self, wondering how he could fuck up this badly.
