[His hands could be a terrible work of art, with all the colors that mar them so. He's been out and about the training circuit all week, working tirelessly to "perfect his technique," or at least, that's what he's been telling himself. The smell of blood and flesh that's been wrapped for far too long enters his nostrils, and his chest draws sharply inward as he hisses from the pain.
Asher should say sorry, and he wishes he could, but his throat is dry and any other intelligible noise that could escape him is vanquished by a burning desire to stay.]
You can go, if you want.
[He utters this softly as shame curls its bony fingers around his neck again, silencing him for a few more seconds.
Jin's quiet kindness shouldn't make him so damn happy.]
[Asher should know by now to take care of himself better than this, but for some reason, he isn't, and what does that tell Jin? What of Asher has he hidden away, wrapped tighter than these bruises? He knows that he doesn't need to sit here and bandage his ruined hands, but he wants to do it. Because Asher wouldn't himself; because who knows how long it'll be before somebody else guesses that he's done this to himself for gods know what reason.
(He's no healer. He's not the medbay, somewhere on the other side of Oska. But there's still a selfish piece of him that wanted to be the one mending these wounds and more.)]
Just warning you. It's going to sting when I clean the open cuts... a lot.
[The fingers that hold Asher's hand trace his palm lightly; with his other hand, he begins dabbing away with a pad of alcohol.]
[He can't find the strength within himself to reply.
Try as he might to keep it from happening, this storm has been brewing for months on end, and this is the tipping point.
He had started out with the hope that he would someday become a good person, or at least someone better. Things were going okay, they were going just fine save for a few setbacks, but then it happened. He pulled the trigger and it was all gone, that man's life and the last of Asher's own innocence. Watching a life leave a body is the kind of horrifying experience one can never forget, much less so when the hands of the dead were once around your own neck, and you could have been the one on the ground if things hadn't gone so smoothly.
Now all he has is survivor's guilt, but at the very least, he survived.
The ground becomes harder to see as his lashes grow wet.]
[There's no reaction from Asher, barely even a noise of pain. Jin looks up from his work, finally done cleaning the last of the cuts on this hand.]
Asher? [...Wait. Is he going to--] Asher? Hey... [The alcohol pad slips from his fingers as his hand moves to Asher's arm. He leans in and squeezes his friend's shoulder, gently shaking it to get his attention.
This definitely isn't the alcohol stinging his injuries.]
Come on. What's wrong?
[A innocent question, even if Jin has no idea of the scope of what's wrong.]
[The paper thin veneer that he's done so poor a job of holding together shatters shortly after Jin provides him with that reassuring gesture. He sniffles first, the last of his defenses crumpling, and tears finally slide down his cheeks.
He's felt emasculated so often in this place, but never more than just now, because a very old part of him is sure that Jin never look at him the same way again.]
I can't tell you.
[Asher petulantly rubs an eye with one hand like a toddler, yelling at himself.]
[In a way, Asher's right. But it isn't shame or scorn that Jin looks upon him with. Quite the opposite. Asher's soldiered on with Audentes for months, so far out of his depth that it'd nearly drowned him. How long had he kept going, even feeling like this? How far had he-- untrained, a civilian, just a student who'd never known the vastness of worlds beyond his own-- pushed himself? To the bone, nearly. It's incredible that he's still standing tall, or was, before he'd found Jin to lean on.
Asher has never deserved to be given ALASTAIR's burden. But Jin knows now, more than ever: he's more than strong enough to bear it.]
You can tell me if you need, though? It's okay. You're not a wuss. [A coward would never have put Jin's safety before his own. He wouldn't have done it twice, risking death.
Asher's been brave.
Before he can think twice, he's wrapping his arms around Asher, drawing him in close.] It's okay.
[They are cheek to cheek now, although Asher's is still damp. If he wasn't so tired or hungry he'd have the mind to pull back, but instead the sensation of another person's skin against his own placates him so much that he instinctively nuzzles against what he can feel.
As far back as Asher can remember, simple acts of affirmation like this one have quelled even the worst of his fears. He may not have received them from the people who mattered most, but that's what makes him so eager for anything of the sort, as he's desperate for some kind of silly sign that his life is worth something.]
I'm sorry...
[He mutters, slipping and sliding further into Jin's embrace.
Asher has no clue what Jin is really thinking, because at present he is most bothered by a notion that has plagued him night and day for the past ten years.
[Jin's no mindreader, either. The way that Asher slumps against him, however, speaks louder than words: he blinks back his surprise, expression framed with worry. Whatever had pushed him to this breaking point must've been serious, enough that Asher doesn't really look like he can articulate it right now.
He barely knows what he's doing himself. He's not much of a nurturer. All Jin can do is what feels right-- what he himself would've wanted, or needed to hear in a spot like this. His hand rubs small, slow circles on Asher's back, and he keeps his voice low and reassuring.]
You're gonna be fine.
[This... feels right, though.
Somehow, this feels like a step forward. A blind one, but a step.]
[After what feels like far too long, the dregs of sleep finally tug at Asher's eyelids.
"I'm here."
That's the last he hears of the other's voice before everything starts getting hazy and his body finally begins to shut down. Asher has spent the week flipping back and forth between anger, sadness, and fear, but in the arms of someone he trusts, he's finally able to experience peace.
Safety is something he'd taken for granted back home, because he's had the privilege of being protected by not just his father, but society and the law. Space and time travel are far less forgiving, more merit-based in their selection, which seems to solely rely on survival of the fittest. Take away his race and social status, and what is he really fit to do?
[Asher's erratic breaths slow; his body goes limp; when Jin whispers quietly to him, there's no answer, although his heart beats on steadily, pressed against Jin's in the embrace.
He's... asleep. Makes sense, suddenness aside. He looked completely exhausted, in the end-- he won't try to wake him, if he needs the rest that badly. Jin's face flickers with concern as he begins to shift Asher's weight, moving him onto his back. He's sure not gonna walk himself to a bed in this state.
---
Which is how they've arrived here: Asher passed out in a dead sleep on Jin's bed, Jin keeping an altogether unnecessary watch nearby on an uncomfortable spindly chair. (He hadn't bothered to go through Asher's pockets for his own room key. Not worth the explanation.) The stillness in his friend, the peace, is foreign. Jin's seen Asher asleep before, but not like this-- Asher might've mumbled in protest at being moved, once or twice, but had never truly awoken, not even when Jin had finished properly bandaging his wounds. He sleeps like a child, free from worry... or like a man who's never slept a minute in his life. Either way, it's rest that, as far as Jin is concerned, Asher truly deserves.
And it's the first time in a long while that Jin's really gotten to look at him. His dark hair's tousled, the locks curling against Jin's pillow; every once in a while, he sighs, and it seems like he'll wake, the way his eyelashes move. (Jin moves forward in his seat, prepared to lull him back to sleep.) But he never does. He simply murmurs, lips moving slightly, cheek pressing closer to his own arm.
Asher, in his moments of silence, is something to see.
Jin cradles his chin in his hand, watching Asher's chest move up and down with his breaths. At last, he breaks the silence.] This is so stupid. [But gods, it'd felt good, to be there, hadn't it? Asher had needed him, and he'd relished in it, the ability to give him that. To be that safety. Friend, or... no matter how hard he tries to shake it, the possibility of a more than that, far flung though it may be. The implications, now that the immediate worries have eased themselves, are at last laid bare.
His brows knit together, and his heart and stomach tie themselves into impossible knots.
Holding your best friend 'till he cries himself to sleep? Carrying him to your bed, mending his wounds? Kung Jin, he thinks, you're not fooling anybody. Least of all yourself.]
I'm an idiot.
[Jin stands and crosses the gap between them. Asher hasn't budged in the last few minutes, which is exactly what he needs. He hovers, hesitating; his hand reaches for the man's hair, brushing it away from his forehead. (His heart picks up like drumbeats, he could swear it's loud enough to hear.) He bends low. Before he's got the chance to think twice, Jin presses a kiss to Asher's temple, barely taking a moment to linger.
He's in his chair again right away. He wills himself not to contemplate it too deeply. They're just friends, after all.
(Kung Jin presses his lips together, remembering the way Asher felt in his arms.)]
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Asher should say sorry, and he wishes he could, but his throat is dry and any other intelligible noise that could escape him is vanquished by a burning desire to stay.]
You can go, if you want.
[He utters this softly as shame curls its bony fingers around his neck again, silencing him for a few more seconds.
Jin's quiet kindness shouldn't make him so damn happy.]
You don't have to do this for me.
["I'm the worst."]
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[Asher should know by now to take care of himself better than this, but for some reason, he isn't, and what does that tell Jin? What of Asher has he hidden away, wrapped tighter than these bruises? He knows that he doesn't need to sit here and bandage his ruined hands, but he wants to do it. Because Asher wouldn't himself; because who knows how long it'll be before somebody else guesses that he's done this to himself for gods know what reason.
(He's no healer. He's not the medbay, somewhere on the other side of Oska. But there's still a selfish piece of him that wanted to be the one mending these wounds and more.)]
Just warning you. It's going to sting when I clean the open cuts... a lot.
[The fingers that hold Asher's hand trace his palm lightly; with his other hand, he begins dabbing away with a pad of alcohol.]
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Try as he might to keep it from happening, this storm has been brewing for months on end, and this is the tipping point.
He had started out with the hope that he would someday become a good person, or at least someone better. Things were going okay, they were going just fine save for a few setbacks, but then it happened. He pulled the trigger and it was all gone, that man's life and the last of Asher's own innocence. Watching a life leave a body is the kind of horrifying experience one can never forget, much less so when the hands of the dead were once around your own neck, and you could have been the one on the ground if things hadn't gone so smoothly.
Now all he has is survivor's guilt, but at the very least, he survived.
The ground becomes harder to see as his lashes grow wet.]
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Asher? [...Wait. Is he going to--] Asher? Hey... [The alcohol pad slips from his fingers as his hand moves to Asher's arm. He leans in and squeezes his friend's shoulder, gently shaking it to get his attention.
This definitely isn't the alcohol stinging his injuries.]
Come on. What's wrong?
[A innocent question, even if Jin has no idea of the scope of what's wrong.]
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He's felt emasculated so often in this place, but never more than just now, because a very old part of him is sure that Jin never look at him the same way again.]
I can't tell you.
[Asher petulantly rubs an eye with one hand like a toddler, yelling at himself.]
God, I'm such a wuss!
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[In a way, Asher's right. But it isn't shame or scorn that Jin looks upon him with. Quite the opposite. Asher's soldiered on with Audentes for months, so far out of his depth that it'd nearly drowned him. How long had he kept going, even feeling like this? How far had he-- untrained, a civilian, just a student who'd never known the vastness of worlds beyond his own-- pushed himself? To the bone, nearly. It's incredible that he's still standing tall, or was, before he'd found Jin to lean on.
Asher has never deserved to be given ALASTAIR's burden. But Jin knows now, more than ever: he's more than strong enough to bear it.]
You can tell me if you need, though? It's okay. You're not a wuss. [A coward would never have put Jin's safety before his own. He wouldn't have done it twice, risking death.
Asher's been brave.
Before he can think twice, he's wrapping his arms around Asher, drawing him in close.] It's okay.
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As far back as Asher can remember, simple acts of affirmation like this one have quelled even the worst of his fears. He may not have received them from the people who mattered most, but that's what makes him so eager for anything of the sort, as he's desperate for some kind of silly sign that his life is worth something.]
I'm sorry...
[He mutters, slipping and sliding further into Jin's embrace.
Asher has no clue what Jin is really thinking, because at present he is most bothered by a notion that has plagued him night and day for the past ten years.
The notion that he is not enough.]
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[Jin's no mindreader, either. The way that Asher slumps against him, however, speaks louder than words: he blinks back his surprise, expression framed with worry. Whatever had pushed him to this breaking point must've been serious, enough that Asher doesn't really look like he can articulate it right now.
He barely knows what he's doing himself. He's not much of a nurturer. All Jin can do is what feels right-- what he himself would've wanted, or needed to hear in a spot like this. His hand rubs small, slow circles on Asher's back, and he keeps his voice low and reassuring.]
You're gonna be fine.
[This... feels right, though.
Somehow, this feels like a step forward. A blind one, but a step.]
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"I'm here."
That's the last he hears of the other's voice before everything starts getting hazy and his body finally begins to shut down. Asher has spent the week flipping back and forth between anger, sadness, and fear, but in the arms of someone he trusts, he's finally able to experience peace.
Safety is something he'd taken for granted back home, because he's had the privilege of being protected by not just his father, but society and the law. Space and time travel are far less forgiving, more merit-based in their selection, which seems to solely rely on survival of the fittest. Take away his race and social status, and what is he really fit to do?
Knock out in a hot monk's embrace, apparently.]
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He's... asleep. Makes sense, suddenness aside. He looked completely exhausted, in the end-- he won't try to wake him, if he needs the rest that badly. Jin's face flickers with concern as he begins to shift Asher's weight, moving him onto his back. He's sure not gonna walk himself to a bed in this state.
---
Which is how they've arrived here: Asher passed out in a dead sleep on Jin's bed, Jin keeping an altogether unnecessary watch nearby on an uncomfortable spindly chair. (He hadn't bothered to go through Asher's pockets for his own room key. Not worth the explanation.) The stillness in his friend, the peace, is foreign. Jin's seen Asher asleep before, but not like this-- Asher might've mumbled in protest at being moved, once or twice, but had never truly awoken, not even when Jin had finished properly bandaging his wounds. He sleeps like a child, free from worry... or like a man who's never slept a minute in his life. Either way, it's rest that, as far as Jin is concerned, Asher truly deserves.
And it's the first time in a long while that Jin's really gotten to look at him. His dark hair's tousled, the locks curling against Jin's pillow; every once in a while, he sighs, and it seems like he'll wake, the way his eyelashes move. (Jin moves forward in his seat, prepared to lull him back to sleep.) But he never does. He simply murmurs, lips moving slightly, cheek pressing closer to his own arm.
Asher, in his moments of silence, is something to see.
Jin cradles his chin in his hand, watching Asher's chest move up and down with his breaths. At last, he breaks the silence.] This is so stupid. [But gods, it'd felt good, to be there, hadn't it? Asher had needed him, and he'd relished in it, the ability to give him that. To be that safety. Friend, or... no matter how hard he tries to shake it, the possibility of a more than that, far flung though it may be. The implications, now that the immediate worries have eased themselves, are at last laid bare.
His brows knit together, and his heart and stomach tie themselves into impossible knots.
Holding your best friend 'till he cries himself to sleep? Carrying him to your bed, mending his wounds? Kung Jin, he thinks, you're not fooling anybody. Least of all yourself.]
I'm an idiot.
[Jin stands and crosses the gap between them. Asher hasn't budged in the last few minutes, which is exactly what he needs. He hovers, hesitating; his hand reaches for the man's hair, brushing it away from his forehead. (His heart picks up like drumbeats, he could swear it's loud enough to hear.) He bends low. Before he's got the chance to think twice, Jin presses a kiss to Asher's temple, barely taking a moment to linger.
He's in his chair again right away. He wills himself not to contemplate it too deeply. They're just friends, after all.
(Kung Jin presses his lips together, remembering the way Asher felt in his arms.)]
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If he were awake, who knows?
Maybe he would have kissed back.]