Pairing: Hwoarang/Jin, Jin/Hwoarang
Summary: A series of vignettes about Jin and Hwoarang.
Disclaimer: I am making no profit from this fanfiction. I do not own Hwoarang, Jin, or Tekken.
Notes: I felt like warming up to Hwoarang/Jin with some vignettes. I make no apologies for the following. Some are quite nice and serious, others are rather silly.
|026.||Writer's Choice||027.||Writer's Choice||028.||Writer's Choice||029.||Writer's Choice||030.||Writer's Choice|
He’d abandoned his desire for a rematch with Jin. It was a weak, but acceptable, reason to follow Jin to every tournament. The press ate it up and he didn’t have to explain further. But, it was more than pride.
The reason was in those moments when he saw his name beside Jin’s on the fight schedule and his chest swelled with anticipation, when he faced his “rival” and his heart pounded out a rhythm that just felt right. Then, there was the unsettling realization that he didn’t care if he lost, as long as Jin won.
He watched Jin hit the ground, waiting for him to get up, even after the bell sounded. Somewhere outisde the illusion of their stage he could hear the crowd: Hwoa-rang, Hwoa-rang, Hwoa-rang…
Was it over?
“Fine…” Jin said, rising to his feet, “you win.”
“T-that’s right,” Hwoarang brightened, preparing to rub it in. Jin couldn’t ignore him any more. “I’m strong! Much stronger than you!”
“I have to get going.” Jin turned away.
No... that wasn’t how it was supposed to go! “Hey, wait up!” Hwoarang moved after Jin. “Why are you giving up so easily?” Hwoarang’s chest tightened. “Aren’t you ashamed of losing to me?”
Jin barely looked back at him. “I don’t have time to be swayed by emotions. I must go to fulfill the destiny of my cursed blood.”
No, this wasn’t happening! He didn’t have time? Hwoarang’s fists tightened. “What… this sucks!”
Even in defeat, Jin still looked through him.
Jin had just settled onto the beach towel when Hwoarang came running up with a piece of paper in hand and a look on his face that said an adventure was afoot.
“We need to build a sand castle!” he blurted out as he shoved a crumpled poster at Jin.
Jin read the advertisement as Hwoarang began rooting through their bags. There was a sandcastle contest with an undisclosed prize. “Did you even bring a shovel?” he asked, as Hwoarang groaned in frustration.
“Noooo!” he threw his arms up dramatically.
Jin smiled and read the poster again. “It’s not until this afternoon. We can go buy supplies.”
Hwoarang ate his messily, with cream running down his chin and across his hands. Jin was more delicate, though, without utensils, he was left with a mess of red and white across his mouth. He tried licking his lips, but one look at Hwoarang told him it was in vain.
“Let me get that for you,” Hwoarang said with a smile as he brushed his finger through the creamy mess on Jin’s chin. He licked his finger. “All clean.”
“You have a little something, too,” Jin murmured and leaned forward, licking Hwoarang’s lip to return the favour.
Hwoarang didn’t cry. Not because it made him weak, or somehow injured his reputation. No, he was broken. Even with sadness raking at his insides, his eyes were bone-dry. It was as if his emotions had been re-wired so everything came out as anger, and he was used to it.
Jin changed everything, and Hwoarang noticed his anger towards the other man morphing into something else. Something… softer. He wasn’t fixed, but... it felt right.
Years later, Hwoarang was planning how to destroy the… thing his partner had become. He pored over blueprints and schematics of the Zaibatsu headquarters, making notes on paper that became damp from time to time as he outlined how to kill Jin.
Hwoarang rushed into the apartment, slamming the door behind him. “Check it out, Steve just taught me a magic trick!”
Jin lowered his magazine to his lap and smiled placatingly. “Okay, show me.”
“First, you have to stand up,” Hwoarang said, grabbing Jin by the hand and pulling him to his feet. Then he shuffled him over to the couch and pushed him over the back so he was fully bent over with his ass in the air.
“What kind of trick did Steve--?”
“I can make my penis disappear!” Hwoarang said, tugging at Jin’s trousers.
Jin rolled his eyes and reached for his magazine.