Crossfire

 

Chapter Three

 

 

Condemned. How come the condemned places were always the funnest places to hang around in? Danger signs were everywhere, but signs didn’t count for much in that district. Signs meant to warn people away typically did more attracting then repelling. Defeats the whole purpose if you really think about it, but at least the locals know where the most dangerous places to party were, and that’s the most important thing.

 

Hwoarang stepped inside the condemned theatre. Smashed beer bottles, spray paint cans, used condoms, and a million other unthinkable things littered the dirty wooden planks. He made his way down the rows of broken, grimy seats, lighting a joint as he walked. It was five minutes to ten, so he figured he had a few minutes to wait before his rival arrived and found him. Hopefully he’d have enough time to finish the joint in peace.

 

Easier thought then done. As he made it halfway down the red-carpeted path, a man stepped out onto the stage from backstage. Jin Kazama was early. Hwoarang stopped mid-stride and exhaled a cloud of smoke as he casually returned his rival’s quizzical gaze.

 

Hwoarang walked leisurely to the stage and climbed up. It was rather nice to finally have Jin Kazama’s full attention without the typical tolerant expression he had been used to. He didn’t want to be tolerated. He wanted to be wanted. Important. Even though he had made his presence somewhat of a nuisance. “Now what is it you want to talk to me about?” He asked as if he hadn’t a clue.

 

“I want to talk about you,” Jin answered calmly, “Actually, I do not want to talk at all. I want to listen to you explaining what was going on last week. I know I asked you to leave me alone, but that’s the kind of thing that gets a guy paranoid.”

 

The Korean nodded, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

 

“That’s not an explanation.” Jin crossed his muscular arms over his chest, “That’s an apology. Though I appreciate the effort, I did not ask for an apology.”

 

“Alright. Ok…” Hwoarang sat down on the edge of the stage, trying to decide what lie to tell his rival. It was difficult, but he thought of one, “I guess I went a little crazy. I suppose I got a bit angry at your dad and went to take it out on you, but things didn’t go the way I had planned, and then I kissed you. Maybe I was just looking for something stupid to do. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.”

 

Jin sat down on the edge several feet away from the Blood Talon. He looked down at his feet and then back at his rival, having trouble deciding what to ask first. Finally he made a decision, “My father? What did he do?”

 

“Same thing he did last night,” Hwoarang lied. He considered Jin for a moment before peeling off his shirt to reveal the wounds he acquired in the fight against the Egyptian. “It’s nothing serious. It just pisses me off sometimes.”

 

“Why did he do that to you?”

 

Hwoarang shrugged and took a long shaky dreg of his joint, absently. The memories of his first encounter with the devil were haunting him. It didn’t seem right. It had been too easy to get rid of Kazuya the previous night. “It was more the devil in him. Hell, I could fuck up your old man… Now is that all you wanted to talk about? I gave you the best explanation I can, so are we finished?”

 

There was hesitation, “Yeah… we are.”

 

The Korean could sense the uncertainty, and had to fight against smirking at it. It could work to his advantage, right? “Fuck, Kazama. With a tone like that, I don’t know what I should be doing right now. Do you want me to stay or not?”

 

Jin bit his lip and looked back down at his feet, “I don’t know…”

 

“Well I don’t have the time to just sit around and wait for you to make up your mind,” The Korean hopped off the stage and started down the red carpet, “When you do make a decision, have your people call my people.”

 

Jin’s mouth opened to speak, but his voice didn’t follow. He frowned and slid off the stage. Why did he always have to be the honest one? As he was about to run after his rival, his shoe got snagged in the carpet, and sent him falling hard on his hands and knees. Talk about embarrassing. The Japanese man looked up to see his rival grinning down at him.

 

“Wow you’re graceful,” Hwoarang laughed as he helped Jin to his feet.

 

It was a difficult thing to do, but something had to be done. Jin grabbed the back of Hwoarang’s neck and pulled him into a determined kiss. Of course, the Korean kissed back immediately as if he had expected it. As if he was the one who initiated it. Although, in some senses, he was.

 

Hwoarang put his hands around his rival’s waist, and pulled the muscular man closer as he broke from the kiss. He showered Jin with a series of teasing kisses, leading from the corner of the lush Japanese mouth, to just below his ear. The seductive trail sent chills down Jin’s spine.