Young Writers Society

"Yeah," Derik agreed reluctantly, realizing he wasn't going to get out of this without getting roughed up anyway. "There needs to be a scuffle... maybe we could fight until they come over to tell us to shut up, then when they're watching I hit you and you collapse, so then they come in? I dunno."

Kazimir hummed again, smiling mischievously.

"Yes... yes," he said. "I love a good scuffle."

He then turned to Derik, leaning his head and shoulder against the wall.

"Only question is if you can deliver a convincing knockout punch," he said, meeting Derik's eyes.

Only question is if you're gonna kill me once I do.

"Yeah, I can handle that," Derik muttered. "Can you fall convincingly? If they're watching, you gotta go down-down."

"I know how to fall," Kaz said with a scoff. "Fuckin... fallen so many times. I know how to take a hit. Make it look real. Yeah, I can do that. Good. I wanna see how hard you hit. Just don't break my nose, though. I still need this face afterward. People like my nose. I like my nose."

"Like... now?" Derik asked. "Or when they come?"

"Oh, I like that," Kazimir said playfully with a smirk. "We can practice if you want."

"I mean, you're the one getting hit..." If experience had anything to say, they both were getting hit. Kazimir would underestimate Derik. Derik's blow would piss him off. Then they'd be in an almost-real scuffle. "But yeah might be good to practice it... once."

Kazimir's smile grew, and he leaned off the wall, standing squarely on both feet.

"Okay, okay," he said, getting excited as he bounced on his heels. "Hit me first."

He wanted to gauge how hard he should hit him back, and he wanted to get an idea of how Derik would fight.

Somehow, his enthusiasm made Derik even warier. Derik had been in his fair share of fights, but generally made sure he wasn't the one that picked them. Seemed like Kazimir was eager for it.

"Okay." Derik took a step forward. "Get away from the wall though, you gotta practice falling too, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, right, right," Kazimir said with a nod, stepping away from the wall on light feet. "I'm ready now."

"Right." Derik hesitated. It seemed so wrong to do what he was about to do. Mean. "I do have to hit you pretty hard for it to be believable, you know? I won't go all-out, but I gotta... you know...?"

Kazimir was ready. He was ready, and Derik was stalling.

"Hit me!" Kazimir hissed in a whisper, egging him on.

Whelp.

Derik took a deep breath hit him on the side of the jaw. Not as hard as he could, but not light either, and he followed through with his punch instead of pulling it.

Kazimir remembered that this wasn't going to be a real fight, and that he had to pretend to be knocked out. For a second, though, he was so excited by the thrill of the fight, that he forgot pretending existed.

He took the punch, bracing for it, and then it finally registered a split second after.

Fake it.

He stumbled for a seconds on his feet, recalling all of the many times he'd been hit in the face enough to see stars. He rolled his eyes in to the back of his head and then tilted back just enough to lose his balance, not stopping to catch himself on the way down.

He hit the concrete floor hard, and his head was throbbing, but he wanted to prove to Derik he could do it.

He laid prone on the floor, focusing on just breathing normally and not moving a single muscle.

Derik watched, then grunted. "Not bad."