Jin could see, from the moment he looked up, that whatever blank hollowness had been sitting inside Ahn-Bo-ah had vanished. In its place, filling every crack and crevice where there should have been joy and light, there was only… anguish? Jin wasn’t exactly sure. But it was something, and something was better than nothing. He was surprised, maybe, that Ahn-Bo pulled him close but Jin didn’t hesitate in clinging to him back. He missed his friend, more than he missed whatever else they’d become after thier confession— Ahn-Bo-ah was his one and his only. His danjak chinguu. Jin squeezed his eyes shut against the thought, guilt already creeping in at what he was about to do. It wasn’t a perfect solution. He’d have rather sold himself to the devil tenfold than inflict his Abeoji on Ahn-Bo. But the alternative was… death. And permanent separation. Two things Jin was too selfish to allow.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he mumbled, not letting go even a fraction. “I’m fine, really. It’s not as bad as it sounds. But…” and here Jin did pull back, only marginally, so he could brush the slightly choppy fringe out of his best friend’s face and look at him as he spoke. “I do have to go back,” there would be absolutely no question of that and his voice was deadly serious. He couldn’t even imagine what Abeoji would do if he didn’t and instead found him here with Ahn-Bo-ah. It was too late. He’d already implicated his friend. “But… it’s a relatively safe place. And you’ll be protected and fed. Come with me, Bo-ah. Jebal,” Jin pleaded.

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