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Last Night on Earth	By : Salysha Category: +S through Z > Tekken Views: 2660 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Tekken, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from writing this story.

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Two

He didn’t know what to do with himself.

Jin had insisted on booking the room for an extra day, and now he knew why: he wouldn’t have been able to move. All of Jin’s belongings were there, including his wallet and phone. Seeing the two items, Hwoarang almost broke down. They were the last, definitive piece of evidence that Jin had no intention of coming back or leaving himself a window to escape.

Now, the mechanical routines for the day done, he himself dressed up and showered, he was at loss what to do. There was nothing. He had left everything behind and gone with Jin. They’d been so wrapped up in each other in the good and the bad that it had left the course of his own life in oblivion, insignificant and disinteresting by comparison.

Hwoarang sat on the floor, casting a hollow stare upon the room. He didn’t know what to do, or that’s what he wanted to believe.

He knew he should make arrangements to leave the country: find transport to a harbor city, take a ferry ride to home, find his master, and go back to leading a life to call his own. Yet, as his gaze wandered aimlessly, unable to take anything in, he knew he didn’t want to take any of these actions.

Instead, he stayed perched and staring into space misty-eyed, as his thoughts went round in circles.

--

One knock on the door startled Hwoarang back into cognizance and, another, into action. He blinked his vision clear and forced himself to give an air of relative normalcy as he went to the door.

He was shocked within an inch of his life when Jin stormed in, frantic and very much alive. The door slid shut as Hwoarang wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. This wasn’t possible.

“Jin?”

“I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t do it....” Jin was verging on tears, his voice so thick it muffled the enunciation.

“Jin....”

“I couldn’t...,” Jin said with sharp intake of breath and looked through Hwoarang, his eyes clouded. He fidgeted, but, unable to decide a course of action, remained swaying on his feet, looking utterly confused and lost.

It was the most animated Hwoarang had ever seen Jin. While his heart plummeted at the distress he witnessed, another feeling, completely different in nature, threatened to break him as well: they’d been given a second chance.

“Jin.” Hwoarang approached and embraced him.

Jin clutched onto him, and Hwoarang gladly let him. The shaking man in his arms was the finest gift he could have asked for. They stayed like that, holding each other upright and drinking in the warmth and acceptance their sheer presences conveyed. It was an eternity before they allowed each other to let go, and even then, their hands stayed locked tightly as they perched on the carpeted floor, intent on holding on, even when if made it their poses less comfortable.

“Tell me what happened.”

Jin shook his head and looked away, and, for a moment, Hwoarang thought he wasn’t going to get an answer. Then, Jin spoke, “I couldn’t do it. I went there and wanted to finish it. My mother.... She would have been disappointed. It would have killed her to know that I... that I wanted to murder....”

Jin didn’t need to finish the sentence. Patricide had a nasty ring to it, even in the Mishima family. The story of Jun Kazama, then, Hwoarang had never gotten in full, and now was a poor time to ask, when Jin seemed to be in some kind of a shock, rambling incoherently.

“...a disgrace...”

Hwoarang gave Jin’s hand so hard a squeeze it cut him off. “No one’s dead? They didn’t see you?”

Jin gave a look of incomprehension.

“The plan. No one saw you?”

Jin shook his head.

“Good. Listen, you try to shut up about that disgrace talk, and I’ll find us a meal. This shack has room service or something, right? Never mind, don’t even answer that. Let me....” Hwoarang rose, but Jin’s forlorn gaze and clutch on his hand stopped him. Hwoarang bent back down and spoke in a very different, very gentle tone, “Jin.... You’re alive, and nobody else is dead. Everything’s all right, and you didn’t kill anyone. That’s all that matters. You’ll see once your head clears. It’s little muddled up there right now, but you’ll see.” Hwoarang brushed Jin’s jaw line lightly and gave him an encouraging half-smile.

He didn’t make it standing when Jin had already pulled him down to face him, and the problem dawned on Hwoarang. He could have lost himself so easily just in looking at Kazama. Funny how looking each other in the eyes had lost its old meaning of a challenge just like that. Hwoarang reproached himself mentally; he was slipping again. Instead, he leaned forward and captured Jin’s lips with his and found the owner of the said lips reciprocating eagerly. “Fine?”

“Yeah...,” Jin breathed and let him go.

--

Luckily, there was catering available, and, as their orders arrived, Hwoarang ushered Jin out of the way and cleared the bill. As Jin finally emerged from the bathroom, looking more balanced already, he met the food with the enthusiasm of a famished man. Hwoarang found it hard to keep a straight face at the sight of Jin downing a bowl of rice as if it were a drink.

Jin caught himself. “I--”

“Nice to know you’re enjoying it,” Hwoarang remarked with blithe unconcern and a sly glance. He didn’t hide his chuckling as Jin dug into a bowl of meat, sheepish.

They enjoyed the meal in silence and, once finished, settled for a lie-down. “We don’t have to go anywhere,” Hwoarang reasoned, “and I could use some rest.” Whoever said the Blood Talon wasn’t discreet, making as though this was about him?

Obligingly, Jin tailed him to share a bed, and they made a warm, comfortable bundle of each other and the available blankets. Smotheringly hot, the embrace was still soothing enough to make Hwoarang drowsy and follow Jin, who had drifted off easily.

--

They woke hours later, when Jin stirred and woke Hwoarang with him. They lay down lazily, moving only to steal occasional glances in each other’s directions, and reveled in the pretense that they could stay like this for all eternity. All around was quiet; not even the streets or the corridors of the hotel carried noise.

“We should stay a couple of days,” Hwoarang suggested finally. “Keep the room, take our time.”

“That might be best,” Jin agreed. Neither made a note how the address was still “we” even after the joint mission was aborted. Jin’s hair tickled Hwoarang, as he stretched himself and yawned before sinking into the bed again, and this time it was Hwoarang keeping an eye on him, finding the sight of a content Jin Kazama curiously moving.

Quickly, he said, “I’ll go and book a couple extra days. You need anything?”

“Nah, I’m good. Really.”

“I’ll go. See if you can drag yourself out of bed today.”

As an answer, Kazama burrowed into the sheets and let out a gratified sigh. Chuckling to himself, Hwoarang straightened his clothes and snatched the keys. On his way to the reception, he noticed a Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the doorknob.

--

Jin was up when Hwoarang returned.

“Back to the living?”

“Somewhat. I’m awake, honestl--” Jin’s reply was cut off by another yawn.

“I can see that.” Hwoarang leaned onto a wall, his hands sneaking in his pockets, and observed Jin from a distance, a smug expression on his face.

Jin shot him a reproachful look, but crossed the distance nonetheless. They stood face to face, and Hwoarang couldn’t help his hands detaching themselves from his jeans and coming to rest on Jin’s hips. As Jin leaned forward, he was more than keen for the touch of lips on his. The mood picked up quickly; the air came to have a pinch of electricity in it.

The shreds of tiredness left Jin, who pressed onto Hwoarang, only to have strong arms pull him closer still. Lips searching and hands roaming, they could have bored through a thin wall. Jin rocked his hips against Hwoarang’s, who moaned. While Hwoarang strove to be rid of his vest, a pair of hands searched for his jeans and knuckles bore into his stomach as the fingers kept working the belt buckle and the fly of the jeans. Jin broke a kiss to look for permission in Hwoarang’s eyes, though he didn’t need to.

The intimate undressing alone sent jolts through the Korean. Just as Jin’s mouth seized his again, Hwoarang’s pants and underwear were pulled down. His privates were exposed to the air, cool by comparison to the comfort of clothes, but that didn’t stop his feeling every bit as aroused. Hwoarang brought his hands down to reciprocate, but Jin withdrew and nudged his hands away.

“I do care about you,” Jin said. “And I’m going to prove it to you.”

With a last, soft touch of lips, Jin kneeled, maintaining an unwavering eye contact with Hwoarang, who barely registered the turn of events. A shiver of anticipation ran through his body when he did, barely in time for him to see how Jin finally broke the gaze, a smile caressing his lips. A hand gripped Hwoarang.

As the hot mouth made contact with the sensitive skin, Hwoarang arched against the wall and moaned, “Jin....”

Hearty thanks to Gypsie for the proofreading!

Published October 21, 2008.
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Last Night on Earth