Chapter Twenty
"Ever wonder how everything would had turned out had Kazuya not died?" Lei asked quietly; he and Paul were still sprawled out on the kitchen floor. A case of beer and too many conversations to count later, it was now nearly dawn. The two men were both lying on their sides, facing each other, their faces just inches apart, though they were both comfortable with the intimacy. Outside, the first songbirds were singing, which made the day still seem farther off than it was for Lei. He waited patiently for an answer, watching Paul's face as daylight slowly lit up the little house.
The biker shifted a bit and folded his arm beneath his head, "Not really. I don't think I'd be any better off."
"You don't think you and Nina would had gotten married?"
"Nope. She wasn't the marrying type."
"...Too bad, I guess."
Paul shrugged and rolled onto his back. He was silent then as he watched the ceiling fade from a sleepy blue to a delicate yellow as sunlight filled the kitchen. Lei turned on his stomach and rested his head on his folded arms as he waited patiently.
The biker finally spoke, "What time do you have to be at the cemetery?"
"Not until noon," the detective responded; he chuckled and shifted a bit to make himself more comfortable. "This should be interesting."
"What are you going to say?"
Lei closed his eyes and responded sleepily, "Nothing. I'm just going to act surprised, I guess." He heard a frustrated sigh come from Paul then reopened his eyes to see the blond staring straight at him. "Really, Paul. What else can I do?"
"I don't know."
"I know...it's not really the right thing to do in the end, but for now, it's going to have to do."
Paul shook his head and pulled himself up to a seated position, "Well, it's fine for you for starters, but what happens after that? Julie'll have to relive all that shit all over again...she's still a mess from the last time."
"I don't think anyone could ever really get over something like that..." Lei sat up himself, stretching and yawning. "I mean, it still scared the hell out of me when Jin changed, even after the whole deal with Kazuya. And it was just so...quick. No warning, Paul. It wasn't like Kazuya where we all just kinda watched him over the years turn into that...thing."
" 'Thing', huh?" the blond's frown deepened as he stood up abruptly. Lei blinked and did the same.
"Hey," the detective began, "I know how you feel about the whole situation, but you have understand--"
"--No, no. I know, you're doing your job and all," Paul shrugged. "Keeping your promises--" He popped his neck once and stretched out his arms to crack his knuckles as he looked forward. "But, the longer you keep this up, the harder it's going to be fix things."
Lei hung his head, "...I know. I'm actually thinking...it's impossible now."
"Wouldn't say that, but it's pretty damned near impossible." With that, Paul casually strolled out of the kitchen, leaving Lei to himself.
o.o.o.o.o
"Crap, another one?" Miharu said as she peeked over Xiaoyu's shoulder that morning; Xiaoyu was checking her email before heading off to her morning summer school classes. Her roommate, Miharu Hirano, stood behind her, still wearing her undershirt and panties. The other girl was silent and nodded once as she read through a particular message again.
"Really, you should block the bastard," Miharu yawned. "I mean those are just creepy, Xiao."
"...Can't block someone that doesn't have a traceable IP, Miharu," the other girl replied sheepishly as she scrolled back up to start reading again. "But, I did find out it wasn't Rang trying to mess with me." She began reading again slowly. "And honestly, why would he be the one apologizing for that summer?..."
Miharu blinked, "Huh? What happened?" She jumped up, hopped over to her bed, and sat down, resting her elbows on her knees and her head on her palms, a smirk across her face. "There's a good story behind this, and I want to hear!"
Xiaoyu glanced over her shoulder, "Oh, it's nothing. Just some stuff that happened a couple years ago. You know, before you started going to school here." The girl turned around in her seat and faced her roommate; she looked somewhat disappointed and frustrated. Miharu, however, pouted a bit and stood up, though still with a half-smirk on her face.
"Won't tell me, eh?"
"...Well, the guy graduated awhile ago. And, he's, well, I think he's dead."
The other girl blinked and stood directly in front of Xiaoyu, "...You think he's dead?"
"He's supposed to be," Xiaoyu shrugged and turned back to her computer. "I mean, I went to his funeral and all. Everyone was acting really weird, though. His girlfriend--ex-girlfriend, especially. She almost looked like she was bothered to be there." She shrugged and opened another email, one addressed from Forest this time. "I mean, nothing against her, since we're still friends. But, for someone that was that close to Jin and even supposedly saw him get murdered, she just wasn't acting right." With that, she started reading; as she expected, it was a fairly short email, since Forest tended to rather talk on the phone or chat than to actually write long letters. Xiaoyu frowned as she got halfway through, then glanced over at Miharu, who still stood over her shoulder reading.
"Do you mind?" she asked.
Miharu shrugged and smirked, "Not really. You...really liked that Jin guy, huh?"
"He was a good friend. Really nice. A bit of a pothead, but heh, it's not like I don't smoke up every once in a while.--" she turned back and went back to her mail. "--Cripes, how the hell am I supposed to get him a ride from the airport without telling Jules?" she frowned. "I guess I'll call Paul or something. I swear, Forest gets himself into more shit..."
"You're avoiding the question," Miharu sang leaning over Xiaoyu, this time draping her arms around the other girl's neck. She leaned over into the girl's ear, "It's one thing to have a good friend, but it's another to really like him."
"Wow, you are really being annoying this morning."
"Sorry, but this is really interesting!" the girl laughed as she hugged her roommate's neck. "Besides, I can tell that this is bothering you... Say, that guy--Jin, right?--I mean, did you get anywhere with him?"
Xiaoyu glared up at Miharu, "What?"
"You obviously liked him in that way if the fact that his ex bothers you--"
"--She doesn't bother me."
"She was then, though. Right?" Miharu hugged Xiaoyu again, "Right?"
The other girl sighed heavily and turned around in her chair, "It wasn't like that... You had to be there. The whole thing was just...off. It wasn't just her, Jin's grandfather, that detective, everyone that was involved, they just weren't acting right."
"One more thing, then I swear, I'll leave you alone."
Xiaoyu shrugged, "Okay, what?"
"So, back to that guy, since you keep changing the subject, what's the deal with him? Did you like him or what?" The grin on Miharu's face widened with slyness, her arms still wrapped around her roommate's neck. The other girl blinked, her face now only inches away from Miharu's.
They had been rooming together for three semesters now at the boarding house for their high school. It surprised Xiaoyu how well she actually got along with Miharu, considering they were complete opposites; she wasn't as into dating and socializing as much as her roommate, though they luckily did have the same tastes in music and clothes. Also, Xiaoyu focused much more on her studies and sports, which did end up causing a conflict or two when the other girl brought home her dates on school nights. Or just any night in general. Along with that, many of Xiaoyu's schoolmates did whisper behind her back that she had completely changed after Jin's death. At one time, she did seem as happy and bubbly as Miharu, but those days she shrugged off what anyone had to say about her. Most of her closest friends were out of school now, and she figured that was part of the so-called maturity to her personality, or rather her lonliness as she often admitted to herself reluctantly.
Though there were the nights would she would lie awake wondering if Jin really had affected her that much. She was still angry at him, though most of that came from confusion on exactly why he was do such a thing to her; she had never exactly considered herself particularly pretty, at least compared to Julia, and Jin had never taken any interest in her aside from treating her like a little sister. But, it was starting to make sense now, after spending time with Hwoarang again; her anger had started to curb some after that. If anything, she was sorry she every even let Jin touch her like that and felt a bit of pity on his part, which she felt she should had had for him then instead of now.
"Xiao?"
"...I think we just felt sorry for each other," she finally replied, her voice trailing off into thought. She glanced over her shoulder at her half-read email then looked back at Miharu, and her frown deepened.
o.o.o.o.o
Julia hesistated as she brought up her hand to doorbell of the Jennings' little home. She had never been to the house herself, since Hwoarang had always been reluctant to show anyone where he lived; he mostly just bounced from home to home of his friends until Paul had taken him in for the last couple years he lived in Dreyfus. She stared at the peeling paint on the stormdoor, then glanced around at the front porch; there were several overgrown potted plants and various rusted car engine parts that had been left carelessly outside for what she imagined was years. The one thing that did stand out the most was an old rusted tricycle, a red Radioflyer with the bell still attached, though its shine long gone and eroded away. She smiled sadly to herself as vision of a little boy racing up and down the sidewalk on the little trike came to her. With a heavy sigh, she finally turned back to the door and rang the bell.
It was a few moments before she heard footsteps and a deep voice bellowing, "Just a second!" As the door opened; Jonas had a cigarette dangling from his mouth and was mumbling profanties under his breath, his head down as he pull opened the door. The man looked up at Julia, the scowl that he always wore on his face deepened as he looked her up and down. She was wearing a tight red t-shirt that was cut short revealing her midriff and a matching plaid short pleated skirt. It made her seem younger than she was, along with the two braids she wore in her hair.
The girl cleared her throat and managed a small smile, "Is Robert here?"
"And you are?" Jonas asked, leaning in the doorway and crossing his arms. From behind him, thehouse reeked of bacon fat, and she could hear the skillet sizzling from the kitchen. Over the fizzing,Julia coulda woman's voice singing, though she couldn't understand the lyrics at all. That caught Julia's attention, and she listened for a moment before the older man cleared his throat out of irritation, snapping her back to reality.
"I'm a friend," she responded quickly then repeated, "Is he here?"
"He's asleep, but he needs to get his ass up," Jonas muttered as he moved to the side to let Julia in, who timidly took the invitation and stepped inside of the house. He gestured, "Follow me."
She was led past the kitchen where Myung sang and cooked, completely fixated on her activities that day. Julia noted that the older woman seemed content, possibly purposedly ignoring her husband and the strange girl that was in her home as she continued to sing brightly in Korean, her eyes glassed over. Myung only glanced up once, still singing and gazed blankly at Julia as Jonas led her past.
They down a small hallway, and the older man turned to one of the doors on the right and opened it in one forceful motion. It seemed like he was going to yell, but he stopped and moved to the side.
"Go on in," he said as he turned to address Julia, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. She nodded once meekly and did what she was told. Hwoarang was sitting on his bed, shirtless and leaning over his knees. He glanced up at his father then at Julia, and his eyes narrowed. Julia smiled at him, a geniune smile.
His bedroom was surprisingly neat and clean unlike the rest of the house, though the dresser was cluttered with papers and pencils; drawings of random things, like the trees in the front yard, cars, people, all of which impressed Julia very much, since they were very professional looking.
Jonas cleared his throat again, "I'll leave you two alone, but breakfast's in a few." Hwoarang mumbled something back in Korean, to which the older man responded crossly, "English! I get enough of that shit from your mother!" before marching off.
Julia sat down next to Hwoarang slowly, "...I didn't know that you drew."
"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked standing up quickly and went over to his dresser, hastily stacking his work and then opening the top drawer and dumping them all into it. He then quickly turned back around and crossed his arms, sporting a look of both irritation and embarassment that made him look much like his father.
"Came to apologize. You left so quickly last night, and--"
"--I really have nothing else to say to you."
"I...I know." She stood as well, her hands folded on top of her abdomen. "I'm not expecting everything to just suddenly get better. But, I know I haven't been fair to you at all."
"You haven't been fair to yourself," he added dully. "Honestly, Jules, I know you loved Kazama. But he's dead. He's not coming back. How long are you going to keep beating yourself over that?" She shrugged a bit, not sure exactly how to respond. She watched his face, which was still hardened with annoyance.
He then uncrossed his arms and let out a frustrated sigh, "Okay, can I ask you one thing?" She nodded once pulled her hands away from her stomach to let them drop to her sides. "Where exactly do I stand with you?"
She blinked, "How do you mean?"
"I mean, is it worth it to me to be going through all this bullshit with you?" he repeated bitterly. "And don't give me that 'best friend' crap. I want a straight answer."
She was silent and looked down at her feet. Hwoarang, however, waited patiently, his arms crossed again and his brows furrowed. After what felt like an eternity, he let out a frustrated huff and threw up his arms in disgust.
"I'm going to breakfast," he mumbled as he turned back to the dresser and opened a drawer, this time pulling out a clean t-shirt. "I guess I'll see you around or something." As he walked past the younger girl, he tugged the shirt over his head.
"Rang, please," she said as she followed him, "That isn't something I can just answer right away!"
"Oh, please. You had almost three fucking years to decide. I'm taking that as a no," he laughed bitterly as they emerged from the hallway. He stopped in front of the kitchen and was silent as he watched his mother cook mindlessly, who only looked up to smile sweetly at him then went back to cooking and singing, placing another strip on the ungodly tall pile of cooked bacon on the counter. Hwoarang turned toward his father, who was sitting in the living room watching television.
"Why haven't you stopped her yet?" the boy called. There was no response from Jonas. Julia was silent and watched Hwoarang and then his mother, who continued to cook as if nothing was going on. Hwoarang marched into the living room and grabbed his father by the shoulder. "I know you heard me! Why haven't you stopped her?"
The older man sneered and pushed his son's hands off of him, "Why do yo think, you fuckup? Andget your hands off of me."
"You're the one calling me a fuckup?" the younger man laughed. "That's really rich--" Jonas stood up slowly, his gaze still on Hwoarang.
"You haven't been home one day, and you're ready to start something," the man growled dangerously. "You think just because you ended up making a few friends with some rich kids you're suddenly better? Look around, Bobby! This is your world!" The two men stared coolly at each other, both daring the other to make a move.
Jonas continued steadily, "You're trash, just like your old man. Get used to it, because no one's going to think any different, no matter what you do or how much you try to clean yourself up." Myung's singing grew louder, almost to the point of screeching. Hwoarang said nothing, but turned away and hurried into the kitchen and to his mother.
He stopped short of her and began softly, "Mama?" She continued to cook and sing, though her voice had quieted back down to the pleasant level it had been earlier. He leaned in and placed his hand over hers to stop her, "Mama, there's enough for us to eat."
She smiled up at Hwoarang and said in Korean, "My son came home last night. I have to make him a big meal." She turned away and went back to singing and frying meat. He hung his head sadly then glanced over his shoulder at Julia, pulling away from his mother in shame. Silently he went over to the younger girl, then gently grasped her hand and led her to the front door.
"Don't come back," Hwoarang said quietly after Julia had stepped out of the door. He leaned in the doorway and crossed his arms. She didn't respond but gazed intently at the older boy. "Go on. Leave."
Julia shook her head, "Not unless you come with me."
Hwoarang rolled his eyes, "Jesus, Jules. Just go the fuck away, alright?" His voice cracked; it sounded like he was on the verge of tears. The only sounds after that was the his mother's singing and morning traffic in the distance. He waited for her to turn and leave, but she stood her ground, her hands folded over each other as they rested on her abdomen. The look on her face was oddly placid, which bothered him after awhile. He shook his head once and pulled away from the door to go back inside.
That was when Julia finally moved, leaning in and gently tugging on Hwoarang's shirt sleeve as he turned to leave. Annoyed, he turned back around, only to be met with a kiss on the lips, sweet yet swift. This stunned him, and he stared down at her, confused. Though, the second time she kissed him, he accepted it gratefully and pulled her close as he stepped out of the house; the storm door snapped shut behind him as he hugged her, burying his face into her neck and sobbed once weakly. She rocked him and stroked his head lovingly as he kissed her neck, cooing softly to him.
He couldn't understand the words she was whispering, but he didn't care.
o.o.o.o.o
"Emotional death," Jin said as he took a swig from his beer bottle. "It happened to me after my mom died. I just stopped giving a fuck." He took another drink and looked forward, "I still don't give a flying fuck." He was sitting with Hwoarang in the abandoned parking lot of the Louisville Bar, both were sitting on the hood of Jin's Civic. It was fairly muggy that night, though clear. Hwoarang was still somewhat at a lost as to why Jin had even invited him to go out and hang, especially since there wasn't anyone else around, but by that point, he decided it wasn't worth questioning. Jin wasn't being particularly hostile, and he never had been towards anyone in town.
The comment came as a response to something that Hwoarang never asked, but he figured that the other boy must have sensed what he was pondering, exactly what someone that had to constantly deal with what other people just assumed about him was like and what seemed like completely shutting down socially. Hwoarang even found himself wondering how the hell Jin even managed to pick up a girlfriend with his eccentric, almost anti-social behavior. But when finally given the chance to ask, he just drank his beer and nodded in agreement.
"Are all you Mishimas like that?" That was a slip, something that wouldn't had been said had not been for all the alcohol and weed. He was about to apologize until Jin replied.
"Yes, but only because assholes like you ostracize us," the other boy said coolly before taking a long chug of his beer, finishing off the bottle. Jin then nonchalantly tossed his bottle aside; it hit the side of the building and shattered on top of several other old broken bottles. It was silent after that, Jin turned back and watched the traffic going by; a police car slowed as it passed the two boys but never stopping completely. That made Hwoarang tense up a bit; he still didn't feel comfortable when the police came around or just around anyone in town in general. Granted, he did understand that he had earned the distrust that people had for him, despite that nowhe meant well. He sighed heavily and glanced over at the other boy who still looked forward at cars passing by slowly.
Jin kept his gaze at the street, "We can go to my place. Maybe spar for a bit. I don't like the police staring at me like I did something wrong all the time." He then glanced over at Hwoarang, who nodded understandably as to accept the invitation, though it was still mostly an apology.
He hated how humble he became around people like Jin. Yes, Jin Kazama had money, was already well-educated, and in spite of how harshly people spoked about him behind his back, he had influence. Those were things that Hwoarang had always wanted, the things he saw would better himself, like Baek had asked. Though, at the same time, he felt like he was abandoning something while pursuing what his mentor wanted. What that was, he just didn't know at the time, and he was trying his damnedest not to care.
"I can't stay too long. I'm still under probation--curfew, whatever," Hwoarang added quietly, trying to hide his embarassment. Jin nodded once and hopped off the the car and stepped around to the driver's side to open the door. He then looked up and gestured at the other boy to join.
Hwoarang did so without protest.
He had never been out to the Mishima estate, and it amazed Hwoarang how different the land seemed from the dusty highway that led out of town. Though it was evening, he watched the moonlight dance off the grass on long ride out to the manor; slowly, the land transformed from the pictureseque landscapes into the sights that Hwoarang was more familiar with: rocky hills and formations, dead trees, and such. Somehow, that disappointed him; he had expected more.
Finally, they arrived. The manor itself was menacing looking, looming in the pale moonlight with a lone light on in the front. Hwoarang shivered a bit, disturbed by the loneliness that wailed from the massive home. When the car stopped in the garage, it startled him a bit; the hum of the engine suddenly cut, silent as Jin pulled his keys out of the ignition then promptly got out of the car. Hwoarang did the same quickly and quietly and followed his host.
What surprised him was how warm it felt inside, how lived in the place looked. It wasn't the home that he would had expected someone like Jin to live in. No servants, a few dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, school books on the kitchen table, the sheet music sitting on top of the piano.
He hesistated as he followed Jin through the house, then asked, "No butlers?"
Jin glanced over his shoulder, "No reason. There's only two of us living here, and no one uses the west and east wings of the place. And we're both more than capable of taking care of ourselves. I guess...well, Grandpa says that he hasn't had hired help here since before his wife died, and even then he only had a couple people on staff parttime."
"That's cool, I guess."
"I'm not sure I'd like having people wait on me anyway," the Mishima shrugged as he led his guest to the living room. Jin then gestured to a seat on the couch for the other boy to sit then made his way over to the end of the room to switch on the light. "It'd be too weird." He strolled casually back to the couch and sat down next to Hwoarang. "Expecting that I'd be a spoiled brat?"
Hwoarang shook his head, "No, I never really...got that from you, you know. I'm not sure what I expected."
"Jules said the same thing when I brought her out here for the first time," Jin said, smiling sadly. "I'm not sure why it shocks me so much that people think that. Nothing should surprise me anymore."
He then stood up, stretching, "...I did mention sparring, didn't I?" Hwoarang nodded once, standing up as well, not sure what to expect next. The Mishima rolled his shoulder once to pop it, then turned to leave while gesturing at the other boy to follow.
The garden bothered Hwoarang. He wasn't sure exactly why, he felt unwelcomed as he followed Jin. Jin stopped briefly and leaned over at a closed gardenia; the boy gingerly fingered the white petals, gently forcing the flower open as he stroked it with his thumb and forefinger. For a moment, he lovingly paid attention to the white bloom then suddenly ripped the flower from its stalk, crushing it in his palm. Jin began walking again; the withered petals fluttered from his palm. Hwoarang bit the inside of his cheek nervously yet continued to follow his host.
"I know it's weird, but I don't get many chances to spar with someone other than my grandfather," Jin said casually as he opened the door to the dojo.
"Hey, it's cool," the other boy insisted quickly. "I've been dying for a rematch." When Jin turned to look at him, Hwoarang managed an uneasy grin at the other boy. Jin chuckled once and shook his head as he gestured for Hwoarang to enter; after his guest entered, he then came in himself, pulling the door shut behind him.
Both boys took off their socks and shoes before walking out to the middle of the dojo, which was lit up brightly from the moon outside. It was all very foreign to Hwoarang; as much as he had trained in Baek's basement and even in a dojung, it was strangely immaculate, and he still didn't feel welcomed. However, when Jin bowed at him, his mind suddenly switched, and he did the same before slipping into stance.
As they fought, it was silent aside from the sounds of fabric moving. It was odd for Hwoarang, both and he and Jin still in casualware moving gracefully in the pale light from the windows, the eyes of the ink-wash tiger glaring at them as they went back and forth. Hwoarang's ill-ease slowly ebbed away with each kick and punch he threw. And with each one of Jin's movements he blocked and dodged, he felt the void that he had been feeling fill itself until he was whole again, completely losing himself in his art. His wonderful, beautifully violent art.
There was no winner. Hwoarang didn't want there to be a winner for once. For once, he was willing to accept vagueness. The revenge he had spent years wanting was pointless; he just wanted a reason for existing, a feeling of being whole again. He wanted Baek to be watching him as he bowed, tired and long beyond his curfew. It was worth getting in trouble again if just to feel complete one more time.
He smiled comfortably at Jin finally, exhausted but happy. The other boy did the same, one of his strange, shy half-smiles that he always did, as if it was wrong for a Mishima to smile, even within the privacy of his own home. Hwoarang stepped toward Jin, extending his hand for the Mishima to shake. Jin, however, didn't do the same.
Instead, he leaned in close into the other boy, hesistating a bit before cautiously bring his hand of to Hwoarang's face; the faint scent of gardenias filled Hwoarang's nostils, and he closed his eyes, taking all of it in. It reminded him of his mother's perfume, how he much he loved hugging her and burying his face in her dress before he trudged off to school. He reopened eyes when Jin's other hand touched his other cheek, and he stared back at the other boy, his own hands going up to hold Jin's face.
Vagueness, he was willing to accept now, as long as he could be himself again. Someone bold, someone that knew exactly what he wanted. And as he and Jin leaned into each other, their lips brushing with mutal fascination, Hwoarang felt his mind go entirely blank, his eyes closed again, as he just let himself just experience the heightened sensations he was feeling, the fantastic moistness of the other boy's lips that nipped at his, and finally he ended up being the one to want to venture further, curiously stroking his tongue against Jin's until they were both greedily grinding against each other.
And it was that night, as he came in Jin's mouth, that Hwoarang knew that he wanted Julia.
Her shampoo smelt of gardenias, he noted dully as he laid in her still neatly made bed, both of them still fully dressed; nothing had happened since he left with her from his parents. He was pressed up behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, and he inhaled into her neck deeply, despite not wanting to. The last thing he wanted was to think of his mother at that moment, though part of him needed it. He glanced over at the dresser as he kissed her once on the top of her head.
There were no pictures on the mirror.
