**Disclaimer**: Hwoarang, Jin, Unknown, and Lei and anything else Tekken related mentioned in this fic belong to Namco and not me!
Chapter Three - The Cold, Dark Closet
“Rinji Gunma… Rinji Gunma… tsk tsk tsk… Guess what, Rinji!” Hwoarang paced the room in front of a man lying bleeding on the floor, staring up helplessly at the murderous Blood Talon. “… I said ‘Guess what’!”
“Wha-What?” Rinji stuttered.
Hwoarang smirked, “I’m beginning a new sport. I think I’ll call it, gay-basher-bashing!” He stopped pacing and looked down at Rinji, “You do like the idea, don’t you?”
“What did you say?”
“I said yes…”
Hwoarang smiled sweetly and began pacing again. He could hear Jin outside looking for him, but he wasn’t finished. Jin would only stop him. Rinji wouldn’t get away with what he did to Jin. The young Japanese boy’s call floated in through the window. It sent a pleasant chill down Hwoarang’s spine. Nobody ever said his name like that before.
The Korean silently shut the window, not wanting to be plagued by Jin’s enchanting voice. Hwoarang smirked to himself; ‘I’ll deal with Kazama later.’ He turned to Rinji and thought for a moment. “Do you know what it’s like to be gay? Do you know what it’s like trying to hide? Trying to be someone else, just so you won’t be judged or even killed? Do you know what it’s like not to be allowed to be yourself by moral standards? Do you know what it’s like to be in the closet? It’s dark and cold in the closet. Do you want to feel the cold?”
“Oh I think you do,” Hwoarang said. He grabbed Rinji by the hair, forced the older man to his feet, and shoved him into a broom closet. “Do you like it in there?” Hwoarang asked, closing the door, “Or would you like me to make it more comfortable for you? Less lonely, perhaps.”
Whimpering came through the closet door. Hwoarang rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed. Gay-basher’s were such wimps. A knock came at the door. It was probably Jin. Hwoarang opened the closet door and whispered, “Don’t make a noise or I’ll do to you what you almost did to Hiro,” and shut the door again. He wiped the blood on his hands off on the back of a towel, and threw the towel into the next room before finally opening the door.
It wasn’t Jin. Lei Wulong stood with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised, His black hair was flying all around him in the wind. Hwoarang sized the cop up, thinking that if Lei were a few years younger…
“Why if it isn’t Hwoarang!” Lei grinned, reaching for his cuffs, “Might as well just hold out your arms. You know I’ll win anyway.”
Hwoarang frowned, “What did I do? What are you doing here, Wulong?”
Lei sighed, “Got reports of a red head Korean named Bob beating up a few Bankers downtown during a Christmas potluck, so I came here to get a statement from the Manager of the Bank, and look who I find… Bob.”
Hwoarang kicked himself for being dumb enough to answer the door. His thought process was soon interrupted by a series of bangs and screams coming from the closet. He kicked himself again for not tying and gagging that Gunma bastard. Lei Wulong didn’t seem startled or surprised at all. He just shook his head disappointedly and cuffed Hwoarang.
“Man! I did this in self-defence. Well, not self defence, but rather… Friend defence?”
Lei paused, “Friend? I didn’t know that word was part of your vocabulary.” He laughed at his own lame joke and walked over to open the closet door.
Rinji stumbled out cursing like a drunken sailor. He got a good look at Hwoarang’s cuffs and got brave, “You damn Faggot! Why don’t you go out with your fudge-packer friend and do the world a favour and kill yourselves.”
Hwoarang turned red with rage, flying into the air and completing a ten-hit-combo on Gunma without once using his arms. He wasn’t able to balance right when he finally came to a halt, and ended up falling backwards into Lei. “See… Defence,” Hwoarang said rather quietly as he looked up at Lei.
Lei raised an eyebrow, “Faggot?”
“I think you have some explaining to do, Blood Talon,” Lei stated Pushing Hwoarang to his feet.
Hwoarang opened his mouth to say something equally as pointless when Lei fell forward; landing sprawled at the Korean’s feet. Looming in the doorway where Lei once was, was a dark, red-eyed, black winged Jin Kazama. Lei was obviously unconscious, which wasn’t all that much of a bad thing, but Hwoarang was a little too freaked out to be happy about it.
Jin stepped forward and snapped the cuffs. His eyes were somewhat softer then would be expected from a devil. The young Korean looked around, scanning the place for a quick escape.
“Blood Talon,” Jin said, his voice slightly more demonic then usual, “Relax. I’ve learned to control my curse… somewhat…”
“Did… Did you kill him?”
Jin shrugged, his wings expanding in a shrug of their own. “Did you kill him,” Jin asked, motioning to Rinji Gunma.
“Well then I didn’t kill Officer Wulong.”
“Officer?” Hwoarang grinned, “I never thought of Wulong as an Officer before. It’s hard to when every time I meet up with him, all he acts like a pig-faced bastard. You know, Kind of like your mom.”
Jin rolled his glowing eyes, “I bet you don’t even know my moms name.”
“Her first name.”
Hwoarang thought about that for a moment, “It’s rude to call someone you barely know by their first name.”
Before Jin could reply, the windows caved in, creating a waterfall of glass shards, Dozens of troops ran in, heavily armed, and all aiming at the two young men.
A purple glow wafted through the room, followed by a woman wearing nothing but purple splatters of an unknown substance. Above her, half a body of a wolf floated, moving with the woman in unison. She walked into a large black building, shoving her fist through the chests of the two guards, and tossing them aside. The wolf threw its head back in a disturbing laughter, the woman moving along with it. They proceeded through a number of corridors, killing everyone in sight until they came to their desired destination. An interrogation room where a young redheaded Korean sat waiting, smoking a cigarette.
The demonic woman ran straight into the door, somehow managing to knock it right off its hinges. The Korean shot out of his chair and into an uneasy fighting stance, his hands bound by cuffs. The woman made no move to fight. Silence fell over the room as the two watched each other, Hwoarang slightly tenser then the woman. Yellow glowing eyes told Hwoarang that this woman was obviously possessed. Another huge factor in that conclusion was the wolf floating above her head.
“Who are you?” Hwoarang finally asked.
The woman did not answer, but stood, waiting for something. Her eyes remaining on the Korean in front of her. The wolf, however, seemed to be flickering slightly, kind of like a fading star, as if it wasn’t even there.
A couple guards charging in, firing at the possessed woman soon interrupted Hwoarang’s assessment. Each bullet missed, striking suspicion in Hwoarang’s confused mind. These were trained professionals. No way would they all miss such an obvious target. The woman and the wolf attacked the guards, killing them without so much as a second glance. Hwoarang stared at the lifeless bodies, and was once again faced by the woman and the wolf.
At last the woman spoke, “Where is Kazama?” Her voice deep and unnatural.
Hwoarang remained staring at the bodies, unable to find his voice, let alone words to accompany it. The Demon was patient, standing in silence, waiting for Hwoarang to pull himself together. It’s demonic eyes emotionless yet inquiring. The woman had a softness to her, yet she killed without thought. Without remorse. Without emotion.
“I don’t know,” Hwoarang said, his voice and words returning quickly, but still awaiting his wits.
The woman, still very patient, continued waiting, knowing there was more to be said. Her eyes, not once leaving Hwoarang’s yet the constant watching was not at all uncomfortable, confusing Hwoarang even more, but somehow helping his wits return.
He sat back down, assuming she wouldn’t snap and kill him, “He did something… Gave himself away. They know what he is now so he’s probably in a lab somewhere being injected and probed and god knows what else… Are you going to kill him?”
“No,” It said simply, “but I need you.”
The woman bent over a man, and in a matter of seconds, the uniform was off, “Put this on.”
Hwoarang got up and took a step back, shaking his head, “I can’t… It’s got blood on it. They’ll recognise me anyway.”
“No they won’t. All the ones who seen you are dead. Put it on, you’ll say that someone tried to break in and you had to kill them. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t make yourself look suspicious by rambling nervously or shaking.”
“What do you want me to do? These are low ranked guards. They won’t let me into the labs.”
Hwoarang thought he almost seen the woman smile. “You’ll have me,” She told him, her eyes glinting.
“Well in that case, couldn’t you have just got yourself caught?”
She shook her head, “I needed you too.”
“If you got yourself caught you wouldn’t need me.”
“This isn’t the only thing I need you for, Hwoarang.
Getting in the Lab was the easy part. Hwoarang soon found himself having to watch this possessed woman kill a number of scientists and officers. He felt as if he had betrayed the military even though it wasn’t his own, and they had arrested him in the first place. He felt as though he had lost all feeling. Not because of all the deaths happening at once, but rather because of the demon itself. It scared him the way it could make him feel so comfortable one second only to turn around and kill a dozen heavily armed troops the next. It scared him to think what it would do to him once he was no longer needed.
Jin was hooked up to a number of Machines, his eyes closed tightly in pain. He was no longer marked by the half devil inside of him, but he was still cursed. Hwoarang gazed at his Rival in wonder. How did Jin do it? How did Jin go through so much and still remain strong? How did he remain kind and caring? How did he keep hold of whom he was?
Hwoarang Wondered what would happen if he tried to kiss Jin again. Would he give too much of himself away? Or would Jin reject him and tell the world the truth about the Korean fighter? What would happen if Jin kissed back?
The woman went directly from her killing spree to gently, carefully removing the wires attached to Jin. She seemed to have no medium. Jin Stirred, moaning an incomprehensible word. Hwoarang smiled softly looking down at his sleeping Rival. Jin no longer looked like he was in pain. He seemed comforted by the woman’s touch. He did not wake even when he was propped over the Demonic Woman’s shoulder, and carried off out of the room. The woman motioned to Hwoarang to follow, and he did so, watching Jin carefully, thinking about him. Just thinking.
Hwoarang sat at Jin’s Kitchen table alone, waiting for either the possessed woman or Jin himself to come back out of Jin’s bedroom. He was nervous for unknown reasons. His mind searched his heart for answers to questions that he didn’t even know. It was unnerving, but at least he knew he still had his emotions.
The door to the bedroom opened and Jin stepped out, awkwardly finding a seat across from Hwoarang, “Uh… Merry Christmas.”
“Christmas ended a half-an-hour ago,” Hwoarang informed his rival.
Jin frowned, “That wasn’t a very Merry Christmas, was it?”
“Not exactly…” Hwoarang agreed, “Where’s that wolf Chick? She did go in with you… You didn’t kill her did you?”
Jin laughed, “No, no! She… kind of went out the window, I guess. It was weird because I didn’t see her leave but the window shut slowly as if someone who was avoiding making any noise was closing it… Any way! Christmas is over! Shall we celebrate?”
Hwoarang raised an eyebrow, “Celebrate? Dude I know you have no friends and I’m not about to call up my friends right now since they’re probably all passed out in an alley somewhere with disease infested whores.”
“I do too have friends,” Jin insisted, calmly, “But actually that’s not what I meant…”
“Then what the fuck do…” Hwoarang stopped himself, suddenly understanding. He looked down at his hands, his eyes widening at the shock of Jin Kazama hinting at such a thing. He looked back up at his Rival.
Jin nodded slowly, Confirming Hwoarang’s thoughts, the corner of his mouth quirked in almost a smirk. Either Jin wanted what Hwoarang wanted or this was an even worse Christmas then Hwoarang originally thought. Jin got up from his seat, looking at Hwoarang, his eyes beckoning the Korean to do likewise. Almost Daring.
Without a second thought, the dare was taken. Hwoarang got to his feet, meeting Jin’s seductive gaze with a gaze of his own, only his was slightly more playful then his Rival’s, but no less tempting. Jin stepped backwards toward the bedroom, but Hwoarang met and surpassed that challenge by taking a step forward, pretending to follow, and pushing Jin against the wall the minute the young Japanese man turned away from Hwoarang and toward the room.
Their lips met, Jin being the aggressor, despite being pinned against the wall. But the kiss was not enough to begin with for either of them. That bridge had been crossed in their minds. Jin grinned, playfully nipping Hwoarang’s lip and allowing his back to slide down the wall, bringing the Korean down with him. Hwoarang released Jin and began to unbutton the starchy white shirt, completely ignoring Jin’s tie. The young Japanese watched Hwoarang’s face, getting chills every time the Korean’s skin met his. He had to fight against trembling with both nerves and excitement.
Hwoarang completely removed the shirt, somehow getting around the tie without strangling Jin. He seemed to be experienced at this. Jin watched Hwoarang carefully, wondering how many times his Rival had went home with a man. He wondered how many times his rival went home with a man that meant something…Jin wondered if he was one of those men.
Hwoarang seemed to answer the unasked question with a smile, his hands running down Jin’s abs and stopping at the belt of his dress pants. His hands were cold. But the cold touch only intensified the desire. It made Jin want to be closer. Be warmer. He was tempted to pull Hwoarang closer to him, but stopped himself, not wanting to stop Hwoarang… SO he settled with gazing at the Korean, attempting to discover the slighter man’s true intentions. Attempting to discover his own.
“Hwoarang… I –” Jin started, not being able to finish as Hwoarang softly kissed his chest.
“You what?” Hwoarang said with a grin, continuing a trail of soft kisses down the sensitive skin of Jin’s chest.
Jin couldn’t answer. He didn’t want to answer. He just wanted Hwoarang. He thought of those kisses as teasing. They were enough to keep him holding on yet they just weren’t enough. He finally pushed Hwoarang so that the Korean’s back was against the floor, and began removing clothing, slowly, having to touch every inch of Hwoarang’s skin as it was being exposed…
Two days had passed since Christmas. Two days of hiding from the cops. Two days of Constant seduction from a man Hwoarang was supposed to hate. Two days of crossing the Moral line. Two days of libido. Two days of fearing yet craving more danger. Two days out of the closet. Two days of finally accepting himself for who he was. Two days of pride. Two days of Jin.
Hwoarang stepped out of the bar, a hint of lipstick on his lips. The fresh air felt good on his face. He drew in a deep breath with a refreshed smile. A proud smile, with a hint of sadness. He was going back to Korea, back to the life of a street punk, assuming his friends would take him back. His real friends. He smiled knowing that he no longer had to stay in the cold dark closet. All it took was one man to make him proud to be in his own skin. No more denying who he was. There would be no more secrets, except one. He knew with regret that once he stepped on that plane, He and Jin would had never have happened. He would have to go back to hating Jin, to dedicating his life to that Japanese man’s defeat.
After an hour or so, Hwoarang stepped into the airport, not planning on looking back, but was met by a familiar face. Standing beside the gate he was to go through, was a hooded Jin Kazama.
Jin handed him a bag, “You forgot this.”
Hwoarang took the bag rather awkwardly, “Uh… Thanks.”
They stood there looking at each other, not knowing what to say, when unexpectedly, Jin leaned in and kissed Hwoarang. His lips moist with the flavour of pears. Hwoarang wrapped his arms around Jin, embracing him one last time, not wanting to let go of the kiss. Finally Jin pulled back and winked, “Happy new year.”
Hwoarang grinned and winked back, “New years is bullshit."
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