![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blue_bellsI hadn't planned to continue this, but it was keeping me up at night. Enjoy!
x-posted around.
» Title: Time Slip
» Chapter: [2] Whiplash
» Fandom: Tekken
» Warnings: Coarse language, alternate universe (shameless excuse to have one happy family)
» Pairing(s): Jin/Hwoarang
» Summary: Hwoarang pays a visit to harass Jin in his usual way and encounters some unexpected obstacles. The parents.
[LINK] Part 1: Time Slip
Hwoarang staggers out of the bed and checks, breathing a sigh of relief because he still has his pants if nothing else but a dim notion of where he might be. This isn’t – this isn’t where he turned, he was supposed to be on the road with Jin at his back and –
Hwoarang’s head whips around.
Jin is murmuring to his mother behind the door, standing in the open crack to block the view of the room within and Hwoarang just hopes he won’t be noticed trying to slip away....
He isn’t sure where he’s heading, the room is dark and unfamiliar. He stumbles, hard, into the heavy bureau by the wall and goes rigid as the pain shoots from his knee to every waking nerve. He curses his unsteady legs and realises that his hands are shaking because the last thing he remembers is riding from the estate, sun on his skin and the slow twist of hunger insinuating in his belly.
Somehow he blinked and the entire world turned.
The murmurs by the door had fallen silent.
Jin is looking back at him, a question of concern on his face and if it were possible Hwoarang would have thrown the bureau at his head.
He manages to keep himself from screaming. “What the hell just happened?”
Jin’s hold on the door slackens and he looks Hwoarang up and down, thick brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”
With a hand on the bureau, Hwoarang propels himself toward the drawn window. Throwing the drapes aside reveals the familiar grounds of the Mishima estate under the pale blue sky of early morning. His hands twist in the drapes and he glares at Jin with a look promising death. “Did you drug me?”
Jin’s hand falls from the door. “What?”
“Did you fucking drug me?” Hwoarang nearly rips the drapes from their hinges and an awful feeling coils in his gut when the door swings wide.
Jun Kazama hovers in the doorway, a hand still on the door, her other arm balancing a tray laden with breakfast. The look on her face makes Hwoarang turn away, feeling ashamed at his outcry. He covers his eyes with a hand and he’s disgusted that he’s still shaking.
“Jin, what is happening here?” He hears Jun ask, a tinkle of metal on wood as she sets the tray on one of the tables.
Hwoarang’s hands rest on his hips and he’s not going to look at either of them until he’s sure his eyes aren’t watering with the rising hysteria. An annoyed sigh escapes him. He bites his tongue and tells himself to calm-the-fuck-down.
There’s a pause before Jin speaks, quiet and careful. “Hwoarang, I haven’t drugged you. None of us have drugged you. What’s wrong?”
Hwoarang whirls around. “’What’s wrong?’ It might just be me, but a second ago we were on our way to lunch – I mean a second,” he apologises to Jin’s mother because he’s not going to reign himself in on her account, “so what the hell just happened? How did I get here?”
A thought occurs to him and his hand flies to his head, but there are no bandages there. Jun seems to have been struck by the same idea and she’s moved with incredible speed to his side, soundless on the thick carpet. She looks closely at his face and her fingers are on his temple, smoothing back his hair.
“Hwoarang, have you hit your head?”
Hwoarang wonders when she decided it was all right to touch him like that, but Jin is suddenly beside them, too, and Hwoarang almost rears back.
How do they do that?
Jin is also peering into his face and Hwoarang shirks away from mother and son’s combined concern, so painfully focused. Jin’s hand holds Hwoarang’s arm to steady him, but his touch is warm and Hwoarang gives the man a funny look. Jin doesn’t remove his hand.
“Are you quite serious? You really can’t remember the last few days?”
Hwoarang’s eyes grow wide. “Days?” He looks between them, alarmed. “How many days?”
Jin glances to the side, recalling. “Four days, but I’ve been with you the whole time and I didn’t see anything. All those hits to the head may finally be catching up to you.” His smile turns sheepish again when his mother throws him a dark look.
Hwoarang wants to kick him, all the same, this isn’t the time for Jin to develop a sense of humour.
Jun’s attention turns back to Hwoarang, her gentle fingers admittedly soothing. “We’re going to find out what has happened. Did you experience any serious head injuries before you visited us?”
Hwoarang scrambles to remember and only then, he’s mostly sure. “No.”
“Have you boys been sparring?”
“No,” Jin answers and Hwoarang stares at him, disbelieving. How could they exist in the same space for so long as Jin implied and not sparred at least once?
Jun is nodding and allows Jin to hand Hwoarang the glass of juice she brought on the tray. Hwoarang takes it gratefully. “Have you eaten anything strange in the last few days?”
Hwoarang swallows the orange juice with relief. “It would’ve had to been something really strange.” He glances at Jin for confirmation. “Did I?”
Jin shoves his hands in the pockets of his over-large sweater with an exaggerated huff that tells both Hwoarang and Jun that he isn’t on quite the same wavelength. “Well – “
“Jin,” his mother warns firmly.
Jin sighs,“We ate the same food. Would I not also be sick with whatever attacked his brain –“ He ignores Hwoarang’s aggravated expression “—if it was the food?”
“Why did we eat the same food? You don’t like my food.” Hwoarang feels muted, the energy from his panic finally draining away and he reaches out a hand to the wall for support.
Jin is giving him that same, odd look Hwoarang earned at his first outburst. Hwoarang is preparing to slap some sting to the end of his remark when Jun clasps both Hwoarang’s hands in hers. Her smile is warm as she looks first at Hwoarang, then Jin.
“Boys,” she prompts, voice kind once more, “I want you to know that if this is a very elaborate distraction to keep me from asking why Hwoarang is in your bedroom first thing in the morning, it isn’t necessary.”
Jin groans in exasperation, hiding his flushed face behind his hands. “No, Mom... no.” His hands fall from his face and he glares at her until her expression cracks in amusement and she looks at Hwoarang for his input.
Hwoarang knows he’s innocent but struggles not to feel guilty under her gaze for some reason. “Hey, I’m not lying. I swear! I want an explanation, too.”
Jun’s hands fold in front of her and she turns to Jin, smile full of expectation. “Perhaps you could explain, Jin-kun?”
Jin’s arms fold loosely and Hwoarang is quite impressed he hasn’t run to the hills for shelter. He also notices Jin is bridging most of his resistance to his mother and barely glances at Hwoarang when he rolls his jaw, raising an eyebrow.
“Huh... no.”
That’s not an expression he would have imagined on Jin. And he likes it.
“Eh?” Jun chides, laughing when Jin just shakes his head. They begin to banter playfully and Hwoarang feels a brief wave of jealousy swell in his heart at their evident bond. He suspects Jin doesn’t banter this way with his father, though.
Jun turns from her son with a sigh and looks up into Hwoarang’s perturbed face. Her hand squeezes his. “I don’t want you to worry, Hwoarang. We’ll find out what has happened to your memory – after breakfast. I’ll have someone bring up a second tray for you. Stay here, both of you.”
Hwoarang nods dumbly and takes another swig of juice. Jun squeezes his hand one last time before departing with a sly, pointed look at her son. I’m not done with you yet, young man.
Jin smiles in return up until the moment she crosses the threshold and startles at something beyond their sight.
“Bruce!” She scolds, drawing up short. “Don’t skulk here like a spy, doesn’t Kazuya give you enough to do? Come with me to the kitchen.”
Hwoarang watches a dark-skinned man in a suit emerge at Jun’s beckon. Bruce, so proclaimed, is much older than them. He is tall, his face stern and not in the slightest familiar to Hwoarang. The man bows to Hwoarang and Jin in the bedroom, respectful and silent, before he closes the door.
“... Bruce Irvin,” Jin explains, noting Hwoarang’s thoughtful stare at the closed door, “father’s bodyguard.”
Frowning, Hwoarang meets Jin’s eye. “You have a lot of bodyguards?”
“No.”
There’s a comfortable pause as Hwoarang contemplates the significance of what he’s just seen. Jin begins to eat some of the fruit his mother had brought, popping grapes in his mouth. Hwoarang waves him off irritably when he’s offered the fruit bowl.
Then he goes rigid as Jin takes the half-empty glass off him, other hand winding round the back of his neck before he kisses him. Just like that.
It’s over in a moment, so matter of fact, and Jin’s almost drained the last drop of orange juice when it seems to hit him. He whirls around and Hwoarang wants to punch right through the shock on his face.
“I forgot, I’m sorry,” Jin sets the glass down quickly.
Hwoarang gives in to what he’s resisted all morning and kicks Jin hard in the leg. “You forgot that I forgot, asshole?" He shoves Jin back hard by his shoulders. "What the hell was that about?”
Jin rubs his abused thigh with a pained expression and manages to block Hwoarang’s next attack. “Not so loud! I’m still waking up – I said I’m sorry!”
Jin’s obviously woken up enough to defend himself, so Hwoarang shoves him towards one of the empty chairs by the table with their breakfast. “Sit your ass down!”
Jin complies immediately, hands flying to the arms of his chair as Hwoarang glowers down at him.
“I’ve blacked out the last four days and I’m startin’ to think it’s from a different sort of trauma, but I’ve gotta hear this so, you’re gonna explain from the beginning and this is the last time I’ll say it: this is not a joke. Do not fuck with me,” he hisses.
Jin’s face contorts unhappily as Hwoarang hooks the opposite chair with a foot and tugs it forward. “I really wish you were joking.” Jin’s words are heavy and quiet and Hwoarang suspects Jin isn’t really speaking to him, but he bites anyway.
“I’m not sorry to break your heart, Kazama, ‘cause I’m the one who can’t remember.” Hwoarang whips a slice of toast from the breakfast plate and tears a spiteful bite.
After a beat, Jin releases a long sigh. “Not a thing? Not a single hour?”
“You’re stalling. I’ll kick you again.”
A harsh knock suddenly rings on the door and an unfamiliar voice announces: “Jin! If you’re still asleep, I will kick your ass and hang it from the window!”
“Get in line!” Hwoarang barks at the door, not missing a beat. He turns back to Jin who is looking slightly horrified. “Damn. You’re popular today.”
“... Who is that?” Comes the growled reply, clearly a young woman, but not one Hwoarang can recognise. “Is that Hwoarang? God damn you, Hwoarang, you were supposed to remind Jin for this morning, not keep him back!”
Jin almost leaps from his chair. “I’m here, Asuka, I’m awake,” he apologises to the person behind the door.
‘Asuka?’ Hwoarang mouths in question, but Jin puts up a hand with a look that promises he will explain later.
“Did you forget our plans this morning?” Asuka hisses, “I was waiting in the dojo for half an hour.” Jin glances at Hwoarang who shrugs at his silent appeal. “Open the door!”
Jin flinches at the order and Hwoarang can see him fumbling for an excuse. “I did forget, I’m sorry – please meet me downstairs,” he adds quickly at the angry protest that erupts behind the door, “I will explain.”
They hear ‘Asuka’ huff. “I’m only visiting for a week and this is how you treat your cousin?”
“Thank you, Asuka,” Jin’s voice is flat, but Hwoarang grins to see the smile tugging at his mouth.
Asuka throws back one last remark before her grudging departure. “Don’t you run off, Hwoarang. I want to speak to you, too.”
Jin stares at the door for a moment before he turns with a tight sigh and regards Hwoarang, lolling in his chair.
Hwoarang can’t read the look on Jin’s face and he spreads his arms wide, his words hushed and clipped. “What the hell, Kazama? ‘S there anyone in your family who doesn’t know I’m here?”
He sees Jin’s jaw tighten just before the man stalks past him with an angry determination that makes him sit up in his chair. Jin throws open the tall bureau Hwoarang had stumbled into, his hand steals inside and Hwoarang cranes his neck to glimpse past the obstructing door. His jaw might have fallen open at the entertainment system stowed inside, but before he can acknowledge the spike of lusty approval for the technology, Jin thrusts a black game controller in his hand.
Hwoarang turns the wireless device over in his palm and regards Jin with a raised eyebrow.
“There,” Jin snaps and Hwoarang is taken aback by the strangeness of hearing that tone outside the arena. “That’s why you were here last night, we versed each other until three.”
“... Did I win?”
Jin ignores the question and takes a slow, deep breath. Hwoarang wonders why Jin’s unsteady since he’s not the one who woke up with the memory gap and freaked out in front of someone else’s mother. “That’s everything. That’s all we did.”
Hwoarang peers at him suspiciously. “You sure?” Athough... He taps the wireless game controller against the palm of his hand. With gear like this and what looked like an impressive collection of media, he understands how Jin could have lured him into his bedroom.
Jin’s eyes flash with annoyance. “Yes! I’m the only one of us who remembers, you’ll need to trust me.”
Hwoarang can’t stop his bark of laughter. “Trust you? If I was gonna trust anyone, Kazama.... “ He doesn’t finish his sentence and turns away with a shake of his head.
He doesn’t see the way Jin’s expressions twists and he looks hard at the far wall.
“So, why didn’t you just tell your Mom?”
“... I know my Mother.” Jin studies Hwoarang’s back as the man slides into his chair, returning to his breakfast and lays the controller on the table. “Be careful what you say to her.”
There’s something strange in the way Jin says that. It could have been playful like the way Hwoarang had seen them banter, musing the way he knew Jin could deal sarcasm, or even fronting protection of his mother’s propriety. Toast poised at his lips, Hwoarang wonders at the genuine caution in Jin’s warning and a cold feeling ghosts in his chest.
The third knock of the morning comes on the door, Jun pokes her head in with a bright smile and the second promised breakfast tray, but Hwoarang has lost his hunger. He blames Jin, of course.
He feels foolish for backing up in his seat when she sets the tray on the table before him, sunflower yellow dress brushing his knees.
Her gaze flits over his face. “You look better already, Hwoarang. Now that you are calm and stronger, there is a way I might check what has happened to you.”
Hwoarang regards her slim hand extended in offering, Jin’s words ring in his ears and suddenly the thought of Jun’s hands on him is not so soothing. He doesn’t know what to think.
Before the silence can weigh down, it’s Jin that responds. “Asuka.”
Hwoarang twists around and Jin is looking at him firmly. He clicks on. “Asuka’s waiting for us downstairs,” Hwoarang continues, injecting the clear apology in his voice as he turns back to Jun. “She’s really pissed at us already. We shouldn’t keep her waiting.”
Jun looks delightedly relieved. “You remember Asuka-chan.”
Hwoarang tries not to hurry too quickly to his feet. “Not yet. And she doesn’t know I’ve forgotten her, but she definitely remembers me.”
“Oh, all right,” Jun says, also rising to stand. “I’ll let you freshen up. We can do this another time, when you’re ready.” She gestures with a light hand beyond Jin to an unmarked door in the far corner. She bows before leaving them and shuts the door quietly behind her.
Hwoarang slowly turns to Jin, feeling like he’ll lose his mind if it suffers any further whiplash in a single morning.
“I know how this must make you feel. Shower,” Jin insists, “and then I’ll answer any questions you have. I promise.”
“You promise,” Hwoarang echoes wearily, eyes squeezing shut, his hand rubs his brow.
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Hwoarang looks at him and doesn’t bother responding to that. The promise of a hot shower beading away his troubles is too tempting to delay. He’s halfway to the bathroom door when he realises, “I don’t have any clothes here... do I?”
“You can wear mine for now.”
Four days ago he might have cared enough to argue. Instead, Hwoarang waves a hand in thanks or dismissal and shuts the door before Jin can say anything else.
x-posted around.
» Title: Time Slip
» Chapter: [2] Whiplash
» Fandom: Tekken
» Warnings: Coarse language, alternate universe (shameless excuse to have one happy family)
» Pairing(s): Jin/Hwoarang
» Summary: Hwoarang pays a visit to harass Jin in his usual way and encounters some unexpected obstacles. The parents.
[LINK] Part 1: Time Slip
Hwoarang staggers out of the bed and checks, breathing a sigh of relief because he still has his pants if nothing else but a dim notion of where he might be. This isn’t – this isn’t where he turned, he was supposed to be on the road with Jin at his back and –
Hwoarang’s head whips around.
Jin is murmuring to his mother behind the door, standing in the open crack to block the view of the room within and Hwoarang just hopes he won’t be noticed trying to slip away....
He isn’t sure where he’s heading, the room is dark and unfamiliar. He stumbles, hard, into the heavy bureau by the wall and goes rigid as the pain shoots from his knee to every waking nerve. He curses his unsteady legs and realises that his hands are shaking because the last thing he remembers is riding from the estate, sun on his skin and the slow twist of hunger insinuating in his belly.
Somehow he blinked and the entire world turned.
The murmurs by the door had fallen silent.
Jin is looking back at him, a question of concern on his face and if it were possible Hwoarang would have thrown the bureau at his head.
He manages to keep himself from screaming. “What the hell just happened?”
Jin’s hold on the door slackens and he looks Hwoarang up and down, thick brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”
With a hand on the bureau, Hwoarang propels himself toward the drawn window. Throwing the drapes aside reveals the familiar grounds of the Mishima estate under the pale blue sky of early morning. His hands twist in the drapes and he glares at Jin with a look promising death. “Did you drug me?”
Jin’s hand falls from the door. “What?”
“Did you fucking drug me?” Hwoarang nearly rips the drapes from their hinges and an awful feeling coils in his gut when the door swings wide.
Jun Kazama hovers in the doorway, a hand still on the door, her other arm balancing a tray laden with breakfast. The look on her face makes Hwoarang turn away, feeling ashamed at his outcry. He covers his eyes with a hand and he’s disgusted that he’s still shaking.
“Jin, what is happening here?” He hears Jun ask, a tinkle of metal on wood as she sets the tray on one of the tables.
Hwoarang’s hands rest on his hips and he’s not going to look at either of them until he’s sure his eyes aren’t watering with the rising hysteria. An annoyed sigh escapes him. He bites his tongue and tells himself to calm-the-fuck-down.
There’s a pause before Jin speaks, quiet and careful. “Hwoarang, I haven’t drugged you. None of us have drugged you. What’s wrong?”
Hwoarang whirls around. “’What’s wrong?’ It might just be me, but a second ago we were on our way to lunch – I mean a second,” he apologises to Jin’s mother because he’s not going to reign himself in on her account, “so what the hell just happened? How did I get here?”
A thought occurs to him and his hand flies to his head, but there are no bandages there. Jun seems to have been struck by the same idea and she’s moved with incredible speed to his side, soundless on the thick carpet. She looks closely at his face and her fingers are on his temple, smoothing back his hair.
“Hwoarang, have you hit your head?”
Hwoarang wonders when she decided it was all right to touch him like that, but Jin is suddenly beside them, too, and Hwoarang almost rears back.
How do they do that?
Jin is also peering into his face and Hwoarang shirks away from mother and son’s combined concern, so painfully focused. Jin’s hand holds Hwoarang’s arm to steady him, but his touch is warm and Hwoarang gives the man a funny look. Jin doesn’t remove his hand.
“Are you quite serious? You really can’t remember the last few days?”
Hwoarang’s eyes grow wide. “Days?” He looks between them, alarmed. “How many days?”
Jin glances to the side, recalling. “Four days, but I’ve been with you the whole time and I didn’t see anything. All those hits to the head may finally be catching up to you.” His smile turns sheepish again when his mother throws him a dark look.
Hwoarang wants to kick him, all the same, this isn’t the time for Jin to develop a sense of humour.
Jun’s attention turns back to Hwoarang, her gentle fingers admittedly soothing. “We’re going to find out what has happened. Did you experience any serious head injuries before you visited us?”
Hwoarang scrambles to remember and only then, he’s mostly sure. “No.”
“Have you boys been sparring?”
“No,” Jin answers and Hwoarang stares at him, disbelieving. How could they exist in the same space for so long as Jin implied and not sparred at least once?
Jun is nodding and allows Jin to hand Hwoarang the glass of juice she brought on the tray. Hwoarang takes it gratefully. “Have you eaten anything strange in the last few days?”
Hwoarang swallows the orange juice with relief. “It would’ve had to been something really strange.” He glances at Jin for confirmation. “Did I?”
Jin shoves his hands in the pockets of his over-large sweater with an exaggerated huff that tells both Hwoarang and Jun that he isn’t on quite the same wavelength. “Well – “
“Jin,” his mother warns firmly.
Jin sighs,“We ate the same food. Would I not also be sick with whatever attacked his brain –“ He ignores Hwoarang’s aggravated expression “—if it was the food?”
“Why did we eat the same food? You don’t like my food.” Hwoarang feels muted, the energy from his panic finally draining away and he reaches out a hand to the wall for support.
Jin is giving him that same, odd look Hwoarang earned at his first outburst. Hwoarang is preparing to slap some sting to the end of his remark when Jun clasps both Hwoarang’s hands in hers. Her smile is warm as she looks first at Hwoarang, then Jin.
“Boys,” she prompts, voice kind once more, “I want you to know that if this is a very elaborate distraction to keep me from asking why Hwoarang is in your bedroom first thing in the morning, it isn’t necessary.”
Jin groans in exasperation, hiding his flushed face behind his hands. “No, Mom... no.” His hands fall from his face and he glares at her until her expression cracks in amusement and she looks at Hwoarang for his input.
Hwoarang knows he’s innocent but struggles not to feel guilty under her gaze for some reason. “Hey, I’m not lying. I swear! I want an explanation, too.”
Jun’s hands fold in front of her and she turns to Jin, smile full of expectation. “Perhaps you could explain, Jin-kun?”
Jin’s arms fold loosely and Hwoarang is quite impressed he hasn’t run to the hills for shelter. He also notices Jin is bridging most of his resistance to his mother and barely glances at Hwoarang when he rolls his jaw, raising an eyebrow.
“Huh... no.”
That’s not an expression he would have imagined on Jin. And he likes it.
“Eh?” Jun chides, laughing when Jin just shakes his head. They begin to banter playfully and Hwoarang feels a brief wave of jealousy swell in his heart at their evident bond. He suspects Jin doesn’t banter this way with his father, though.
Jun turns from her son with a sigh and looks up into Hwoarang’s perturbed face. Her hand squeezes his. “I don’t want you to worry, Hwoarang. We’ll find out what has happened to your memory – after breakfast. I’ll have someone bring up a second tray for you. Stay here, both of you.”
Hwoarang nods dumbly and takes another swig of juice. Jun squeezes his hand one last time before departing with a sly, pointed look at her son. I’m not done with you yet, young man.
Jin smiles in return up until the moment she crosses the threshold and startles at something beyond their sight.
“Bruce!” She scolds, drawing up short. “Don’t skulk here like a spy, doesn’t Kazuya give you enough to do? Come with me to the kitchen.”
Hwoarang watches a dark-skinned man in a suit emerge at Jun’s beckon. Bruce, so proclaimed, is much older than them. He is tall, his face stern and not in the slightest familiar to Hwoarang. The man bows to Hwoarang and Jin in the bedroom, respectful and silent, before he closes the door.
“... Bruce Irvin,” Jin explains, noting Hwoarang’s thoughtful stare at the closed door, “father’s bodyguard.”
Frowning, Hwoarang meets Jin’s eye. “You have a lot of bodyguards?”
“No.”
There’s a comfortable pause as Hwoarang contemplates the significance of what he’s just seen. Jin begins to eat some of the fruit his mother had brought, popping grapes in his mouth. Hwoarang waves him off irritably when he’s offered the fruit bowl.
Then he goes rigid as Jin takes the half-empty glass off him, other hand winding round the back of his neck before he kisses him. Just like that.
It’s over in a moment, so matter of fact, and Jin’s almost drained the last drop of orange juice when it seems to hit him. He whirls around and Hwoarang wants to punch right through the shock on his face.
“I forgot, I’m sorry,” Jin sets the glass down quickly.
Hwoarang gives in to what he’s resisted all morning and kicks Jin hard in the leg. “You forgot that I forgot, asshole?" He shoves Jin back hard by his shoulders. "What the hell was that about?”
Jin rubs his abused thigh with a pained expression and manages to block Hwoarang’s next attack. “Not so loud! I’m still waking up – I said I’m sorry!”
Jin’s obviously woken up enough to defend himself, so Hwoarang shoves him towards one of the empty chairs by the table with their breakfast. “Sit your ass down!”
Jin complies immediately, hands flying to the arms of his chair as Hwoarang glowers down at him.
“I’ve blacked out the last four days and I’m startin’ to think it’s from a different sort of trauma, but I’ve gotta hear this so, you’re gonna explain from the beginning and this is the last time I’ll say it: this is not a joke. Do not fuck with me,” he hisses.
Jin’s face contorts unhappily as Hwoarang hooks the opposite chair with a foot and tugs it forward. “I really wish you were joking.” Jin’s words are heavy and quiet and Hwoarang suspects Jin isn’t really speaking to him, but he bites anyway.
“I’m not sorry to break your heart, Kazama, ‘cause I’m the one who can’t remember.” Hwoarang whips a slice of toast from the breakfast plate and tears a spiteful bite.
After a beat, Jin releases a long sigh. “Not a thing? Not a single hour?”
“You’re stalling. I’ll kick you again.”
A harsh knock suddenly rings on the door and an unfamiliar voice announces: “Jin! If you’re still asleep, I will kick your ass and hang it from the window!”
“Get in line!” Hwoarang barks at the door, not missing a beat. He turns back to Jin who is looking slightly horrified. “Damn. You’re popular today.”
“... Who is that?” Comes the growled reply, clearly a young woman, but not one Hwoarang can recognise. “Is that Hwoarang? God damn you, Hwoarang, you were supposed to remind Jin for this morning, not keep him back!”
Jin almost leaps from his chair. “I’m here, Asuka, I’m awake,” he apologises to the person behind the door.
‘Asuka?’ Hwoarang mouths in question, but Jin puts up a hand with a look that promises he will explain later.
“Did you forget our plans this morning?” Asuka hisses, “I was waiting in the dojo for half an hour.” Jin glances at Hwoarang who shrugs at his silent appeal. “Open the door!”
Jin flinches at the order and Hwoarang can see him fumbling for an excuse. “I did forget, I’m sorry – please meet me downstairs,” he adds quickly at the angry protest that erupts behind the door, “I will explain.”
They hear ‘Asuka’ huff. “I’m only visiting for a week and this is how you treat your cousin?”
“Thank you, Asuka,” Jin’s voice is flat, but Hwoarang grins to see the smile tugging at his mouth.
Asuka throws back one last remark before her grudging departure. “Don’t you run off, Hwoarang. I want to speak to you, too.”
Jin stares at the door for a moment before he turns with a tight sigh and regards Hwoarang, lolling in his chair.
Hwoarang can’t read the look on Jin’s face and he spreads his arms wide, his words hushed and clipped. “What the hell, Kazama? ‘S there anyone in your family who doesn’t know I’m here?”
He sees Jin’s jaw tighten just before the man stalks past him with an angry determination that makes him sit up in his chair. Jin throws open the tall bureau Hwoarang had stumbled into, his hand steals inside and Hwoarang cranes his neck to glimpse past the obstructing door. His jaw might have fallen open at the entertainment system stowed inside, but before he can acknowledge the spike of lusty approval for the technology, Jin thrusts a black game controller in his hand.
Hwoarang turns the wireless device over in his palm and regards Jin with a raised eyebrow.
“There,” Jin snaps and Hwoarang is taken aback by the strangeness of hearing that tone outside the arena. “That’s why you were here last night, we versed each other until three.”
“... Did I win?”
Jin ignores the question and takes a slow, deep breath. Hwoarang wonders why Jin’s unsteady since he’s not the one who woke up with the memory gap and freaked out in front of someone else’s mother. “That’s everything. That’s all we did.”
Hwoarang peers at him suspiciously. “You sure?” Athough... He taps the wireless game controller against the palm of his hand. With gear like this and what looked like an impressive collection of media, he understands how Jin could have lured him into his bedroom.
Jin’s eyes flash with annoyance. “Yes! I’m the only one of us who remembers, you’ll need to trust me.”
Hwoarang can’t stop his bark of laughter. “Trust you? If I was gonna trust anyone, Kazama.... “ He doesn’t finish his sentence and turns away with a shake of his head.
He doesn’t see the way Jin’s expressions twists and he looks hard at the far wall.
“So, why didn’t you just tell your Mom?”
“... I know my Mother.” Jin studies Hwoarang’s back as the man slides into his chair, returning to his breakfast and lays the controller on the table. “Be careful what you say to her.”
There’s something strange in the way Jin says that. It could have been playful like the way Hwoarang had seen them banter, musing the way he knew Jin could deal sarcasm, or even fronting protection of his mother’s propriety. Toast poised at his lips, Hwoarang wonders at the genuine caution in Jin’s warning and a cold feeling ghosts in his chest.
The third knock of the morning comes on the door, Jun pokes her head in with a bright smile and the second promised breakfast tray, but Hwoarang has lost his hunger. He blames Jin, of course.
He feels foolish for backing up in his seat when she sets the tray on the table before him, sunflower yellow dress brushing his knees.
Her gaze flits over his face. “You look better already, Hwoarang. Now that you are calm and stronger, there is a way I might check what has happened to you.”
Hwoarang regards her slim hand extended in offering, Jin’s words ring in his ears and suddenly the thought of Jun’s hands on him is not so soothing. He doesn’t know what to think.
Before the silence can weigh down, it’s Jin that responds. “Asuka.”
Hwoarang twists around and Jin is looking at him firmly. He clicks on. “Asuka’s waiting for us downstairs,” Hwoarang continues, injecting the clear apology in his voice as he turns back to Jun. “She’s really pissed at us already. We shouldn’t keep her waiting.”
Jun looks delightedly relieved. “You remember Asuka-chan.”
Hwoarang tries not to hurry too quickly to his feet. “Not yet. And she doesn’t know I’ve forgotten her, but she definitely remembers me.”
“Oh, all right,” Jun says, also rising to stand. “I’ll let you freshen up. We can do this another time, when you’re ready.” She gestures with a light hand beyond Jin to an unmarked door in the far corner. She bows before leaving them and shuts the door quietly behind her.
Hwoarang slowly turns to Jin, feeling like he’ll lose his mind if it suffers any further whiplash in a single morning.
“I know how this must make you feel. Shower,” Jin insists, “and then I’ll answer any questions you have. I promise.”
“You promise,” Hwoarang echoes wearily, eyes squeezing shut, his hand rubs his brow.
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Hwoarang looks at him and doesn’t bother responding to that. The promise of a hot shower beading away his troubles is too tempting to delay. He’s halfway to the bathroom door when he realises, “I don’t have any clothes here... do I?”
“You can wear mine for now.”
Four days ago he might have cared enough to argue. Instead, Hwoarang waves a hand in thanks or dismissal and shuts the door before Jin can say anything else.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-03-29 08:45 am (UTC)I'm looking forward to the next (?) chapter! There's a bubbly, warm, nice feeling in my stomach. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-03-30 07:29 am (UTC)Thank you for the feedback!
no subject
Date: 2008-03-31 02:33 pm (UTC)Meeting the parents is always a tough thing. In fact, I wouldn't even want my friends to meet my parents, especially my grandmother.
Anyway, do continue!
Hwoarang slowly turns to Jin, feeling like he’ll lose his mind if it suffers any further whiplash in a single morning.
That was my favourite line for some reason. XD
no subject
Date: 2008-04-01 02:08 am (UTC)And nobody else will do it for me.I can't tell you when NS will end its hiatus because I simply don't know; our commitments haven't left us much time to coordinate or maintain the site, which is very sad.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-06 07:23 pm (UTC)I know Jin knows and it's something that he can't let anybody else know, so... I'm thinking Devil might have something to do with it, or maybe Kazuya. The fact that Bruce was hiding around outside makes me so suspicious.
Please keep writing more of this. It's very addictive. ♥ ♥
no subject
Date: 2008-04-07 12:29 pm (UTC)