Jin was, for the most part, a fairly rational man. He didn't like to act on impulse, and usually thought things through before making a move. Of course, he could think faster than most people, so these decisions sometimes came across as gut instincts. And, of course, in certain situations, like a fight, he did rely on those gut instincts. But on a normal, everyday level, he was the contemplative type. He said and did nothing without carefully going over it in his head a number of times.
Which was why he felt he really should have known better.
Of course it was a foolish thing. It made him feel immature. Not only because he thought he had grown out of such feelings, but also because of the way he had to hide it from the group. It reminded him of more untroubled days, when the only thing on his young mind had been to keep his boyish crushes a secret. He had left those days long behind.
But here he was. Falling unstoppably for someone his every rational thought told him was impossible to fall for. He had still fallen, and how he had fallen. He was like an acrobat in a circus he had never seen, but he had missed the trapeze and was now falling to his death because there was no safety net, nor had there ever been one. Only this circus tent was empty, because no one could know but him.
He was a samurai, albeit a wandering ronin, and samurai had a code to live by. His crush—misdirected and boyish enough to be labeled that—was not to be revealed. He must live within self-constructed boundaries, in order to maintain the status quo. He mustn't disrupt the group dynamic, or it might leave them all out on their own again. Besides, it was something hard enough for him to deal with, and probably beyond the comprehension of anyone else. Love was indeed a foolish thing.
Looking that person in the eye every morning, trudging side-by-side every day, bedding down each night so close to each other and yet so, so far apart. It was harder than anything he'd been up against in a long while. But no amount of cold hard thought could put him in any different a situation. No matter how long and in depth he thought about it, the truth remained the same.
But hat could he hope for, even if he did act on his blind impassioned feelings? Rejection, scorn, confusion, pity, hate? He could just take his pick. A normal relationship was out of the question in any case. It was an unattainable dream. A childish dream. A forbidden dream.
But simply knowing how wrong it was couldn't stop him from dreaming.
When he dared to think beyond that, to an imagined time and place where things were right and they were happy, he couldn't help but think of the end. A little way down the road from the dream of reciprocated feelings stood the bitter illusion of eternal bliss in each other's arms. If it had a start, it had an end. Somewhere along the way someone would get their heart broken. And he'd probably end up with a mauled face if he were the one to cause the pain.
But things that never started were never given a chance to end. He knew that sometime, maybe farther along the road, maybe sooner than hoped, they would part ways, and that would be the end. They would, in all likelihood, never see each other again, and he was fine with that. The end of their friendship meant that there would never be an end to a relationship.
And, maybe then, he would grow up, and move on.