If he’d been trying to misbehave to get what he wanted, he was doing too good a job of it, Jin thought to himself, idly. It was almost like they were— (well, not quite back at school, they never had any real semblance of privacy there) but before. Before things had taken a turn for the worst, before he’d met the version of Ahn-Bo that could exist so hollowed out. Part of Jin still felt like it was too soon. He didn’t want to take advantage of his friend’s grief and dangle his affection like some kind of balm, but then again if it’s what they needed…?
Jin was too far into his own thoughts to keep his instincts in check. He practically rolled on top of Ahn-Bo as they kissed, fingers curled into the front of his shirt again. It was a surprise then, when they broke for air, the few words that tumbled out of the wolf’s mouth. Jin laughed a little breathlessly. “Perish?” He tried to clarify, brain skipping to catch back up with what Ahn-Bo was saying. Was he implying they could just stay here and die together? — oh.
Jin sobered quickly.
“Ani.” He peeled back, face growing serious and propped himself up on his elbow. The anguish that had pinched his heart all last night returned and he couldn’t quite meet Ahn-Bo’s gaze. “I… I can’t,” Jin emphasized quietly. Spirits, how badly he wished he could. But Abeoji would be furious, he would come looking, and— “I have to go back.” Jin said firmly. His heart was thundering in his chest for a wholly new reason now, irregularly and nervous even just at the thought. Realizing this, he sucked in a steadying breath and tried to calm himself. Abeoji wasn’t here now, after all. Jin turned back to Ahn-Bo and raised his free hand to gently brush the fringe out of his aein’s eyes. (Bo-ah was sweaty and, honestly, it wasn’t a terrible look on him some part of Jin noticed abstractly.) But, running the pads of his fingers gently down Ahn-Bo’s cheek to his chin, Jin sighed. “You promised you’d come with me though,” he said gently. It wasn’t the perfect solution, far from it in fact, and a desperate cry from what they had right here and now. But… it was better than nothing.
Jin was too far into his own thoughts to keep his instincts in check. He practically rolled on top of Ahn-Bo as they kissed, fingers curled into the front of his shirt again. It was a surprise then, when they broke for air, the few words that tumbled out of the wolf’s mouth. Jin laughed a little breathlessly. “Perish?” He tried to clarify, brain skipping to catch back up with what Ahn-Bo was saying. Was he implying they could just stay here and die together? — oh.
Jin sobered quickly.
“Ani.” He peeled back, face growing serious and propped himself up on his elbow. The anguish that had pinched his heart all last night returned and he couldn’t quite meet Ahn-Bo’s gaze. “I… I can’t,” Jin emphasized quietly. Spirits, how badly he wished he could. But Abeoji would be furious, he would come looking, and— “I have to go back.” Jin said firmly. His heart was thundering in his chest for a wholly new reason now, irregularly and nervous even just at the thought. Realizing this, he sucked in a steadying breath and tried to calm himself. Abeoji wasn’t here now, after all. Jin turned back to Ahn-Bo and raised his free hand to gently brush the fringe out of his aein’s eyes. (Bo-ah was sweaty and, honestly, it wasn’t a terrible look on him some part of Jin noticed abstractly.) But, running the pads of his fingers gently down Ahn-Bo’s cheek to his chin, Jin sighed. “You promised you’d come with me though,” he said gently. It wasn’t the perfect solution, far from it in fact, and a desperate cry from what they had right here and now. But… it was better than nothing.
![[Image: HjIYkam.png]](https://i.imgur.com/HjIYkam.png)
* Jin takes potions and enchantments at times to give his voice a persuasive quality.
His performances, or even a simple conversation, can sometimes suggest thoughts
and ideas to his audiences.