[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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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.]