Chapter Text
“Those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it.”
"All civilizations are doomed to fall eventually.”
Those are words that many people grew up hearing, and Donald was no different. Even if the Union wasn’t an entire civilization, it was still a gang, and all gangs are also doomed to fail at some point. He knew that, and of course he did. How could he consider himself to be smart if he didn’t? Donald was many things, and dumb was not one of them.
Maybe he had allowed himself to become wrongly optimistic, however.
He knew the Union would fall at some point; he just didn’t expect that fall to come while he was still in power. He assumed that it would happen after he left due to his successor being incompetent in comparison to him.
“Pride comes before the fall.”
That’s how Wolf Keum was defeated by the White Mamba, and that’s also how he was defeated by Eunjang. How could he not be prideful, though? He had every reason to be confident in himself. Both his brain and body were light-years above other people, so how had he let himself be defeated by that low-class school?
The Union is always being watched on Shuttle Patch, and news traveled fast on there. News of the results of Wolf and the White Mamba’s fight was fast to spread. Within two days, everyone had heard of Wolf’s loss. With Donald’s loss, however, everyone was extremely taken aback. By the end of that same day, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who hadn’t already heard the news. He would rather die than have everyone know where he lived, but at that moment, he wished they had fought closer to his home. It was embarrassing going home and having so many people see his injuries. They stared and pointed and talked in whispers that weren’t really whispers, and he couldn’t even hear them over the fog in his head.
It has been over a week now and all of Yeongdeungpo was a mess. Everyone knew, but no one could really process that it had happened. It reminded him of when he was much smaller and brought down people much bigger than him, only to be faced with doubt. No one believed that such a small kid could bring down the upperclassmen, so they doubted the strength of those upperclassmen instead. This was the same situation, except now he was in the shoes of those bigger kids.
Kingsley texted him all the time asking about what to do with the Union and what to tell everyone, and he sent many messages asking where Donald was and if he was alright. Donald never opened them. He couldn’t bear to. Everywhere he went, he was reminded of his loss. When he went out in public, people would stare and talk, and he pretended not to hear, that it didn’t hurt, but holy shit it did. He could get over the pain in his own body, but his ego was damaged beyond repair, and his head was filled with painful thoughts that wouldn’t leave him alone. He couldn’t bear to open Kingsley’s messages and be reminded again. He would talk to Kingsley eventually, but right now, it hurt too much to contact him. He’d never been claustrophobic before, but right now, the memories held him in a vice-like grip, and he just wanted out, but there was nowhere he could go to get out, and real life wasn’t any better because everyone was looking and they wouldn’t stop, and keep talking too loud, and the whispers in his head were too loud, and they keep pointing and fuck just make it stop!
Gangs fall all the time, and when they do, it’s the victors who take over the territory. This was different, however. Ben Park and his guys had no interest in that. They didn’t want to be involved in gang activity and instead chose to carry on like nothing had happened, like they always had.
This is what hurt and angered Donald the most. Everything he had worked to build for years was gone now. His reputation, his Union, his income source, his pride, everything. He had worked so hard to build himself up from scratch that he didn’t know what to do with himself now because he had never focused on anything else. And Ben Park had taken all of that and burned it for nothing. All of his victories had been burned to be used as kindling for Eunjang to roast marshmallows and eat smores with. It would have been less frustrating if they had taken over his place and continued the Union, but no. They had no intention of doing anything with it, and that just broke him more.
And now, here he sat, on a park bench with his hood pulled over his head and knees pulled up to his chest, wallowing in his own misery. As miserable as he feels, there’s a strange peace in this. Never in his life has he sat still for so long with nothing to do. He was always on survival mode for his entire life, and now here he was with nothing to do except listen to the birds telling bedtime stories for their chicks and the loud, clumsy footsteps of a passerby in the distance.
He was exhausted and drained in every way possible. Even the thought of going home felt like a chore, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it, so he sat. No one ever came to this park anyways at this time of day.
All of a sudden, the clumsy footsteps started getting closer, and he started to panic internally. Had he been recognized? How would that happen? He was wearing a basic hoodie that was nothing like his expensive ones, and no recognizable part of him was visible.
Just stay still, they’ll leave eventually, he thought to himself.
“Hey man, what’s up? Why are you moping around such a nice park?”
Donald jumped at the sudden voice and looked up without meaning to, only to be faced with none other than Ben Park.