Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Buying a lined overcoat was one of the best things he had ever done.

Lukai Hwei’s travels often took him places he hadn’t expected to be, simply choosing to follow work and information wherever they would take him; it was nice in a way, exposing him to wondrous views he would have been deprived of otherwise, but wandering was still difficult. He was hardly a stranger to this by now – it exposed him to oppressive heats and tumultuous storms he had hardly ever been exposed to in those first sheltered years of his life, and he learned to adapt as a result. Those first few months alone had been hell, but the embarrassment baked into him from collapsing from heat stroke taught him quickly that he was, in fact, not immortal. He had to take better care of himself – leaving home would have been a useless ordeal if he was dead.

It was one of the coldest months of the year, and Hwei found himself in a quaint town nestled in the mountains of Northern Ionia, which only worked to make matters worse. An old, worn pair of boots that hardly fit his feet carried him through a light dusting of snow atop a stone path, and the aforementioned overcoat was the only thing keeping him from freezing to death, tucked loosely over his shoulders. He mindlessly walked down the road, allowing the snow to fall on him freely overhead as he made his way to a street market stall propped out from a corner building. The glow it emitted was a warm, inviting orange, and he felt it contrasted beautifully with the cool beauty of the untouched snow draped atop its overhang.

There was nothing particularly special about this town, at least not to Hwei. It served as an intermission between two jobs for himself and not much more. A town over, someone had requested his services for a personal quarrel, and, although he despised the idea of meddling in someone’s personal life (or, at least that was what he told himself), his work did appear to resolve things. No matter though – there was an inherent distrust of Hwei's work, leaving his audience with polarizing opinions. As such, he could never stay in one place too long – not that he would have wanted to anyway. There was beauty in his art, yes, but Hwei wasn’t stupid – people rarely understood or appreciated the type of emotion his art could truly draw out.

These few days served as a respite for him. Conveniently for him, and things rarely ever worked out this nicely, his next commission was still in the same general area. It allowed him to spend some time to himself and indulge in the beauty of Ionia’s mountain towns, as well as speak to some locals about recent events, mainland Ionian culture, and maybe even some more pressing questions on his mind.

Not that that ever yielded results, though.

Ducking under the overhang and stepping through some draped cloth to trap in heat, Hwei was comforted with not only a warm hug of heat, but a wonderful smell as well. He squinted for a moment, adjusting to the bright light of the kitchen behind the open counter, but, as soon as he was able to take in the sight before him – skilled, dexterous hands working dough on a back table with a boiling pot nearby – his stomach growled insatiably.

He deserved this after all of this work, didn’t he?

Jhin finished the inscription on the shell casing with a practiced flick of the wrist, holding the carving of the rune up to the light to ensure the spell had taken to the bullet properly. He let out a satisfied sigh when the rune sparked, his arcane energy flowing properly through the conduit; he leaned back in his seat, taking a moment to relax as he realized his preparations were finally complete. He still felt a lingering sense of anxiety and dread, though he supposed it was understandable—all of his performances since returning to Ionia had been humiliating, humbling failures.

It was advantageous, really, that he’d yet to return to the stage: it would make his next performance all the more shocking. Because now, as far as most of Ionia was concerned, Khada Jhin was rotting in a cell at the bottom of Stillwater Hold, and that was if they recognized his name at all. He’d been absent for so long, he was practically nothing more than a folktale: a scary story to keep naughty children in line, or to prevent foolish tourists from straying too far into the heartland. It made him untraceable, which was perfect for this job in particular… He was hunting for his target, and his lackluster return had positioned him conveniently downwind.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he loaded his finished bullets in Whisper, packing the spares into the pouch he kept clipped onto his belt. Everything about this job irritated him. Firstly, his patrons still hadn’t learned—he was an artist, not an assassin. It was utter misery to be assigned to a single target, especially one so mobile and evasive. His previous performance had even been aborted because of it, his target having skipped town in the dead of night before he’d even had the chance to strike.

Not to mention, the job itself was hardly a job at all—the reward he’d been promised was so low it was practically a favor. And on top of that, how dare they warn him to “not dawdle”—how dare they speak down to him, as if he were some child! They needed him, not the other way around. Some other poor soul could do this rotten work—perhaps it really was time to retire.

No, no, no, that wasn’t what he thought at all, he reminded himself as he held Whisper more firmly in his palm, his forefinger brushing lightly against the trigger. He grounded himself in his compulsion to kill, imagining the catharsis that would come very soon when he drove all four bullets into his target’s chest cavity. He hoped they would be able to appreciate his art—the enchantments were fresh, after all.

Hwei took the wrapped box of dumplings under one hand, giving the shopkeeper a patient smile as he handed over his payment. It was a quiet exchange between them both, but Hwei didn’t mind that at all – with his art, he had a tendency to overwork and strain himself. It was an unintended, yet inevitable byproduct of such an emotional artform; when he would be asked to delve into someone’s mind, the feelings it wrought upon him were rarely pleasant. His throat still burned from all of the unnecessary talking.

His coat was pulled tightly over his chest when he left the stall, heading back into the dark night towards the more residential district of the town. For a few nights, he had been able to book out a small rental house, more than enough to house his personal supplies and a place for him to sleep. As he looked out on the town below – he’d been heading up a hill, how exhausting – he spotted the way the sun’s remaining glow disappeared from behind the mountain peaks, bathing the town in a warm glow from its mana-infused street lanterns.

It was peaceful like this. Conflict brewed inside him, as it often did, but moments like these made him appreciative of his relatively new lifestyle.

As he walked, he heard the quiet clanking of bottles strapped to his hip under his coat. His brush stayed tucked away in his pocket, always an arm’s reach away, but he couldn’t recall a time where he ever had to brandish his weapon outside of his assigned work. Of course, his art could still delight – he indulged occasionally in showing his lively magic to younger Ionians, watching as their eyes glowed with wonder at the way paint could leave the canvas and come to life – but he was far too exhausted to interact with any townsfolk right now. This meal was necessary not only to help him regain his energy, but his mana as well.

Making it to the top of the hill was an embarrassing ordeal. His lungs burned from the biting cold, and he felt the way the ice numbed his nose and lips, leaving him breathless as he rounded the top of the path. He leaned awkwardly against a fenced overlook of the town as he neared his temporary home, working to catch his breath in the least embarrassing way possible. His fingers, numb and not gloved, clung to the wooden fence as he tried to steady his breathing, reminding himself once more of the importance of exercise. At his age, he doubted he should have been having this much trouble with scaling a hill.

Jhin wasn’t much of a detective, but he believed that this time, he had all the intelligence he needed to identify his target. According to the witnesses he had extracted information from, his target was a man in his late 20’s or early 30’s, tall and gaunt but with poor posture, and long, unkempt, hair. His clothing was poorly maintained and baggy, and he fancied himself an artist (which explained why Jhin’s patrons were so intent on his destruction). Furthermore, he was a mage, but Jhin had ignored most of the blubbering about the man’s abilities: from the way it was described, it all sounded like simple illusion magic, something that could be avoided if he just maintained good tempo and spacing. Dealing with mages would always be a tricky thing, even if their magic was, on its face, relatively harmless.

He’d learned that the man was planning to head to a city to the northeast, and as tempting as it was to perform in a settlement with a larger audience present, Jhin’s patrons had made it very clear that they wanted the target liquidated as soon as possible. So rather than meet this mystery mage at his intended destination, Jhin planned to cut him off at the pass and attack him here. The town was actually perfect for what he had in mind: the residential district’s tall buildings were perfect to snipe from, and their wooden frames and thatched roofs would make the perfect tinder for his explosives.

His trapping of the town had been a bit of a rush job, and he was certain that some of his explosives had already been discovered and disposed of. But it really didn’t matter. The bombs weren’t central to this performance; as long as he succeeded at cutting the town’s power, his enchanted bullets and whatever collateral damage his confrontation with the mage caused could do the rest. He thrummed with excitement as he admired his own artistic vision, imagining how the duel would play out in his mind: the power flickering off at the press of a button, bathing the entire town in pitch blackness; the explosives detonating one by one, choking the town with flames and smoke; his own shots in the dark, lighting the ground ablaze around his target as he struggled to escape him. It was practically perfect.

Jhin ran his fingers over his mask, ensuring it was properly fitted over his face. He then stretched inside of his eel skin suit, groaning quietly to himself as he felt the familiar tightness of the slick leather. He threw on his cape and left his rented room without any further delay, exiting the inn out of its side door, emerging into a dark, secluded alleyway. With as much subtlety as he could muster in his costume, he scaled the neighboring building and flattened himself against the sloped roof, pulling out the detached scope for his rifle and looking out at the town below. He really did hope his target would have the decency to wait until nightfall to arrive—late night showings were always a blast.

He blinked against the red glare of the sunset, and adjusted the scope to look further down the road. This was a poor town, so many travelers seemed to match his target’s description. Perhaps he should just start shooting people at random? It could be a waste of bullets, but he was starting to get desperate. Whisper was practically burning a hole in her holster, begging him to finally do something.

Eventually, the world stopped spinning. It took longer than he would’ve liked, but there was a rejuvenating energy in the air that grounded him back into reality. It was an interesting little feature to mainland Ionia – magic seemed to be everywhere.

Ashamed of himself, he pulled himself away from the fence and turned away from the hill, looking out on the residential district. Nothing looked amiss, not that he was looking suspiciously in any way – he had no reason to. The occasional person made their way down the main walkways of the inns and small homes, sometimes in groups of twos or threes, and Hwei blended in nicely even with his mop of green-blue hair exposed to the snow (though the color wasn’t quite clear now that it was darker, really). They all looked a bit similar, clad in winter garb and carrying all sorts of things from the commercial district, so Hwei didn’t stick out much at all. He had a bit of an unintentionally haunting, magnetizing presence, or so he was told, so he was used to being the odd-one-out in a room. It was a comforting thought, not sticking out like a sore thumb.

He held the box of food close in his hands as he rounded a corner onto the main street, unaware of the threat that loomed above. He was keen at sensing magic, but it was tied into almost everything here – to be able to sense a distant threat above was not only out of his skill range as a mage, but as a man as well.

Reaching his building didn’t take much time – it was the third in a set of four identical buildings set up on a grid, as unremarkable as buildings could be in a town like this. His stomach growled impatiently, and he fished in his pocket with numb hands for his key, flinching at the way his muscles ached from the cold. Just a bit longer, and there would finally be some relief – maybe he could light a fire in the stove.

Stepping onto the front porch, he took out the key, his face still aimed down as it usually was with his lackluster posture. He adjusted it in his hand, aiming to unlock the door awkwardly with his one free hand, but he didn’t make it very far.

All at once, the town was bathed in black. A striking click sounded out as the glow from the buildings was reduced to nothing, and the street lamps were rendered useless in the dark, deprived of their mana. Distantly, Hwei could hear some tourists and locals mumbling confusedly at the sudden change.

He looked out at the dark, suddenly and uncomfortably alert.

Jhin’s eye twitched as he continued to scan the crowd, impatience rattling his nerves. His gaze caught on a figure walking alone down the snowy main road. They nearly blended in with the crowd of people, but a certain feature made them stick out to Jhin’s keen eye: their hair. It was a peculiar shade of bluish-green, unnaturally similar to the color of the ocean. Jhin doubted the unique shade was artificial… It wasn’t uncommon for mages to be born with strangely colored hair, be it snow white, bright pink, or even this confusingly familiar shade. The rest of the figure’s description matched that of his target as well, Jhin resolved, even without being able to clearly see the man’s face.

He felt in his pockets for the detonator that would cut the power, pausing when a strange sense of deja-vu washed over him. He tried his best to recall all of his performances since his initial release from prison—had he done this before? He felt his skin crawl when he realized what he had been reminded of, and it wasn’t just a performance. It was that slow, gentle summer, at that temple off the coast. A part of him was still there, feeling the warm sun on his face, the sweet tartness of fresh fruit on his tongue. There was a hand in his own, someone pressed closer to him than he’d ever allowed another living person to get.

He wrapped his hand around the detonator, ripping himself back into the present, not once taking his eyes off the target even when they disappeared under the awning of a building on the other side of the street. Why was he thinking of that now? What was wrong with him? He had a job to finish.

Without further delay, he triggered the detonator, and sighed in relief when the town’s power shut off, bathing everything in a comforting blanket of darkness. He relished in the confused murmurs of the townsfolk—it reminded him so vividly of the theater, where the audience would whisper in excitement as they waited for the curtain to rise. Once the light had been extinguished, he quickly assembled his rifle, letting each click of the mechanism count him up to four. And then, finally, finally, as he slotted the scope into place, all hell broke loose, the explosives he’d planted earlier in the day suddenly going off in a spiraling pattern all throughout the residential district.

Jhin trained his aim down sights, and while he considered waiting for his target to come back into view, he just couldn’t help himself—he shot blindly into the awning his target was standing under, too excited by the carnage to think any better of it.

There was hardly time to worry about the power going out.

Although it felt like an eternity, only a moment or so passed before innocuous confusion turned into something much more mortifying. Distantly first, much further away from the house he’d inhabited, there was a violent sound of an eruption – an explosion – of flames, wood, and rubble. If an upsurge of flames and smoke hadn’t licked above the nearby roofs into the night sky, he wouldn’t have realized what it was at all, taking it as some sort of fireworks show shot dangerously close. Hwei’s eyes shot wide, taking a few steps back on impulse away from the direction of the noise, further into the overhang, but there wasn’t a clear direction of the chaos for long.

Suddenly, there was more. Much more, in fact.

He dropped his box of food to the floor at the blood-curdling sound of screams. Horrified civilians running to take cover in the streets, being crushed by the rubble of buildings caving in on them. His head snapped back, shocked still by this abrupt turn of events, frozen stiff by the visual of a building collapsing in on itself only a street away. It was close enough to blow his hair back from the impact, and the nauseatingly familiar sound of wood snapping in on the weight of itself glued his feet to the ground.

He knew he should have run. He was supposed to run, in fact, but he couldn’t will himself to move. His breathing labored harder, harder, harder, stuck in a vision of a grotesque deja vu. His eyes were locked onto the bright fire that blazed from the old wood from the destroyed inn, lighting up his face in a brilliant orange, and he felt back at home again. His heart beat loudly in his throat, and he stared entirely still at the cacophony of color, unable to pull himself away. He felt faint.

Thankfully, though, Jhin was merciful.

The much-anticipated gunshot rang out, and the bullet, large enough to rip clean through his skull, passed only inches from his face with an ear-piercing crack. It crashed through the awning in a clean hole and whizzed past his eyes, landing on the ground diagonal from him and leaving a crater crackling with enough arcane energy to clear snow. Hwei gasped sharply, stumbling back against the locked door to the house before falling back onto the patio. With a sudden fear for his own life, he scrambled to his feet, glancing up at the hole, not nearly large enough to get a look at the perpetrator at the other end of the line.

What was –

He had no time to think. With the carnage of this sudden destruction, he didn’t know if other people were being attacked like this, but that bullet was meant to hit him; he was certain of it. Almost falling off the small set of wooden stairs, Hwei thought very little of what exposing himself to this stranger’s line of sight might do to him, and he ran out of the now half-destroyed awning away from the direction of the gunshot. His hand nervously felt for the paintbrush in his coat pocket, too panicked to form any semblance of a proper plan.

Jhin hissed in pain when the recoil of the shot rattled down the barrel, pressing the grenade launcher attached to the base into his shoulder. The metal dug painfully into his skin through the leather of his suit, and the tender flesh beneath began to ache.

The first shot had an immediate, sobering effect on his frayed psyche—he’d successfully scratched his itchy trigger finger, and now he felt he could focus more clearly on the task at hand. He took a moment to bask in the sounds of destruction, and took a deep breath, sucking the tight leather of his suit up against his mouth so harshly it felt as if he was being suffocated. He rolled his shoulder as he readied his second shot, waiting for the smoke from the first to clear. His initial shot had been so sloppy that he doubted he had hit his target.

His assumption was immediately confirmed by the sight of his target stumbling off the awning and out into the open, clearly shaken but unharmed. Jhin relished in the sight of the man’s fear, communicated through body language alone. Jhin wished he could see the terror in the man’s face, but alas, it was still obscured by his messy mop of hair, as well as the high angle of Jhin’s vantage point.

He had already missed the first shot, and he really needed to confirm the kill, but there was never any fun in ending a show early. The killer lowered the barrel of the rifle to aim at the man’s feet and rested his finger on the trigger. He better be a good dancer, Jhin thought with a manic smirk.

Hwei’s fingers, numb and fueled purely by adrenaline, caught onto the handle of his paintbrush. It had a quality to it more effective and precise than other brushes he’d worked with; the wood crafting must have used mana in its process. It made using it much easier in a time like this, where he clearly wasn’t at his full strength, but he needed to rely on it.

He neared the end of the street, uncapping some paint in a panic as he went. Without a second fire, he wondered briefly if he had been insane, if that was just some sort of vision he conjured up to rip him out of his traumatic episode, but his thought process was cut short at the sound of another gunshot heading his way. Without thinking, he had stretched a thin ribbon of blue —hard to parse at Jhin’s distance, but clearly the work of a mage — around the expanse of his body, and as the bullet miraculously made contact with it, the impact point erupted into a brilliant explosion of color. Sparks flew in all sorts of hues, searing the mage with heat, and Hwei’s legs were spared.

If he hadn’t —

Was he being hunted? What was this?

Unfortunately for them both, Hwei turned sharply down a road, not only exposing him to more of the destruction now raging through buildings, but also removing Hwei from his sights before he had the chance to fire two more shots. As he turned, he gasped in a brilliant horror at the heat that hit his face, forced to look upon a raging fire.

What was happening? Why did this feel…

Jhin’s eye widened at the explosion of color that burst from the point of the bullet’s impact, shocked by the unexpected reaction—these bullets were meant to bloom on impact, not explode. Clouds of brilliant blues, yellows and pinks fired off in rapid succession, obscuring his view of the target before he could shoot again. He could only see their silhouette making a mad dash through the smoke—of course he was running away, instead of dancing like Jhin wanted.

And he really was slippery, Jhin thought angrily as he watched the figure practically slide around the corner and out of sight. He unleashed the last two shots without much fanfare into the building his target had run behind; perhaps they would pierce through the darkness and manage to find their target anyway.

He then unclicked the rifle from Whisper and the grenade launcher, clipping it back to his belt. He took a moment to adjust his cape and calm his breathing—it took more effort than usual to breath through the smoke, and he coughed wetly, cringing at the phlegm and saliva that stuck to the inside of his mask. He felt his anger building with each passing second; he really had to savor this kill.

With Whisper in hand, he leapt over the roof and slid down the other side, landing with a little more force than intended onto the snowy ground below. Terrified townsfolk scattered out of his way when they spotted his gun. Jhin laughed to himself out loud; ever since the invasion, Ionians always regarded the weapon with a delicious blend of terror and reverence. That alone made it feel so much better to use a gun over a knife, even if cutting into his victims was usually more satisfying.

Now that he was closer, Jhin could spot the remnants of the earlier explosion stained onto the ground. A stripe of electric blue glowed against the dirty snow, marred by slick, swirling footprints, partially melted and still sparking from the impact of the bullet. Jhin followed the line around the corner of the building, and rolled his shoulder again, ensuring that his grenades were properly loaded into the mechanism. Savor this, he reminded himself as he twirled Whisper in his hand, trying to calm the urge he felt to run in blindly and start shooting. This was a mage he was dealing with—he had to be careful.

Although the shots weren’t aimed with any precision or care, he flinched all the same when two more bullets crashed through the building to his right. They didn’t land nearly as close, but they confirmed his fears yet again — he’d been shot at four times now. This couldn’t have been some sort of coincidence.

Was he the reason this was happening? No, that –

Hwei had made a mad dash down the road, and the magic footprints left by him quickly faded into nothing, leaving not much more than a trail of impressions in the snow. The smoke obscured things nicely, and it was much harder to read with other panicked people trampling all over the tracks.

Without much thought, Hwei turned down a side road at the edge of the residential district, left over by that fenced-in area again. He cowered behind an alleyway, calming a growing storm raging in his eyes — if this person was a mage, he may have given himself away with his pulsing signature here. His lungs burned from a mixture of smoke and overuse, but he stifled his coughs, unsure of how close this perpetrator could be.

Nervously, Hwei placed a hand over the wall, glancing out back at the main street. Thankfully, at least for now, these two buildings he was sandwiched in between stood — but, on the other hand, it made the place stick out like a sore thumb on where to hide. His heart was palpitating in all sorts of unpleasant ways, threatening to break free and kill him there, but he had to steady himself. He had a way to defend himself.

His fingers tightened around the brush. Was Jhin anywhere nearby? Did he know how to follow Hwei?

The cacophony of explosions had finally petered off, replaced now by the low rumble of flame and the crackle of burning timber. Jhin followed the trail of color around the building till its abrupt end, and then continued walking straight, looking down each side road as he approached the edge of the residential district.

Jhin had picked up on the mage’s magical signature as he had followed the trail, and felt disconcerted by that same sense of deja vu he’d felt only minutes before. A mage’s magical signature was almost like a scent with how it could so easily dredge up old memories. He knew it wouldn’t matter soon, so he tried not to dwell too hard on the feeling. Once the show was over, the signature would disperse into the ether, and the erratic whispers in Jhin’s mind would finally cease.

He sighed when he felt the signature pulse, revealing the mage’s presence further down one of the side roads. Jhin could feel the energy in his chest—it squeezed his heart like a particularly strong pang of emotion, eventually settling down into his stomach like a rock. It confirmed his suspicion that this mage was more powerful than he’d been led to believe, and again, it made more sense now why his patron considered them to be such a high priority target. Partially hidden by the side of a building, Jhin peered down the side road, looking for movement. But other than the smoke and smoldering flames, it was empty: the mage was trying to hide from him.

He knew he would be opening himself up for an ambush by approaching, but he had no choice. The fire had spread to these buildings as well, and any attempt to climb them would likely only lead to further trouble. So one foot in front of the other, with the feigned confidence of a talented showman, he headed towards the source of the signature, keeping himself on high alert. His target may have been slippery, but Jhin did pride himself on his own athleticism. All he had to do was dodge the first attack, and the fight would be his.

Unfortunate that this area had been so sparsely trapped by him. He would just have to make do with his guns.

There had only been a quick glimpse of a less-than-human silhouette on the main road before Hwei pulled his eyes away from him -- no, it. His hand gripped over his chest, trying his best and failing to calm himself at how close the two of them suddenly were. There was no mistaking it -- that had to be the presence that was after him. He could feel the magic now, what with everything else erupting into flames, and it was bitterly familiar.

Though he supposed that could have just been explained by what this all reminded him of. Life could be so cruel.

He heard the sound of metal against snow-covered stone, and, with each footstep slowly approaching, the dread only intensified. He knew where he was, and with that gun of his, running away at close range didn't seem like a good option. He had to work here, and quickly too, but his mana was hardly at a level where he could justify a full fight. He hadn't even gotten to eat, for spirit's sake --

With shaky fingers, Hwei reached under his coat and uncapped another bottle. His paintbrush glowed subtly with its magical properties, responding to the media being pulled out of the glass confines without a thought. He had no idea of this stranger's physical ability, so a shot of paint into the dark sounded like a frankly stupid idea, but if he was being hunted, they likely knew of his abilities. Would it screw him over to try and use a vision to his advantage? He didn't have many -- read, any -- options here.

There was a subtle, blue glow from a left bend in the alleyway, stretching out on the floor like a spread of water atop the soft snow stained with ash. It was a brief warning, some time where Jhin could ready his gun, but the next move Hwei made may have not been expected. Hwei's shadowy, lanky figure dashed out from the corner in a moment of pure desperation, and, rather than firing a shot directly at Jhin with the intent to harm, purple erupted from the spread of blue towards him almost like a set of jaws.

If it hit, and only if so, the touch of magic against him would instill a feeling of familiar, primal fear in him, unnatural in its intensity.

Unfortunately for Jhin (and very fortunately for Hwei), the killer had been looking forward, ignoring any potential for the very ground to become a threat. The mage’s attack struck before he could properly react, the jaws opening up beneath him and splashing against his boots, momentarily rooting him in place.

Jhin moved backward in a panic, yanking himself free from the paint as if he had no control over his own body. His chest tightened painfully, and he was gripped by an almost primal sense of dread. His vision swam, a blurry, muddy mix of pinks and purples blotting out his view of the road, essentially blinding him. He held his head in one hand, trying to not fall over, fighting against the voices that shouted at him to run, to leave, to get the hell out of there and to not look back. Jhin was always fighting against his compulsions, and now was no exception—he was stronger than his base urges, and he knew that.

He should have been done for, but the follow up attack he expected didn’t come immediately. He had just enough time to tighten his grip on Whisper and push forward, frantically scanning the ground for the source of the initial attack, blinking the purple out of his eyes. He grinned wildly when he spotted another trail of blue paint striped along the ground, and peered into the dark alleyway where he knew his target was waiting, the tip of their own weapon weakly glowing like a candle. Even now, he couldn’t see the mage’s face clearly, but by this point, he really didn’t want to, afraid of what he might see.

“You’ll need more than a little parlor trick to get out of this one, dear,” Jhin laughed, and finally took a good shot, aiming straight at his target. He could practically hear Whisper speaking to him: Four bullets, right into the abdomen. Make it slow and painful, make it cathartic, and don’t miss again, you fool.

That voice should have been familiar to Hwei, but he was too busy allowing his adrenaline to puppeteer his body to make any coherent thoughts. All that mattered right now was his survival, and using his mana like this took enough energy out of him. He eyed the weapon aimed at him, sucking in a hot breath at what this meant, and he tensed his fingers around his weapon as he moved his arms upward.

The blue at his feet pulled up, extending into a sheet of sorts that acted as a brief shield. It gleamed brightly with energy and faded fast, but not fast enough to allow the bullet, aimed expertly in the center of his chest, to break through. The bullet deflected and sparked beautifully as it ricocheted off of the shield, lodging itself without any remaining mana down into the stone path. Again, color erupted from the impact point.

Like this, bathed in a blue light, the mage was much clearer. He was a thin man, almost as tall as Jhin when he got rid of that slouch to raise his arms. His face, once hidden by the dark of the alleyway, was fully illuminated, and Jhin bore witness to his angular face and haunted expression. His eyes, deep-set and bright with mana, looked damn-near crazed from narrowly avoiding death yet again. He didn’t dare tremble — not now.

He didn’t look terribly impressive apart from his magic, but that wasn’t what was important. His hair was long and worked to cover a significant portion of his face, but, blown back like that, it was unmistakable — he was very, very familiar, down to the way his mouth perpetually downturned to elicit a sense of constant anxiety.

Whether or not Jhin caught onto this in the panic, Hwei took a few steps back once the shield disappeared, letting out a strained yell as a more volatile stream of paint shot at him like a spear.

The shot was deflected with ease, the bullet embedding itself into the stone right by his boot.

Time seemed to grind to a screeching halt when Jhin laid eyes on Hwei’s face, revealed in the flash of blue light that illuminated the entire dark alleyway. Recognition was instantaneous, the painter’s features practically unchanged even years later: a gaunt, lanky frame, an angular, asymmetrical face, and haunting, sunken-in eyes that saw right past his mask, striking deep into the depths of his soul.

He’d called it, he thought wryly, feeling for a moment the same sort of irritation a theater-goer might feel after predicting an obvious twist in a story. The evidence of his target’s true identity had always been there, and his intuition had agreed with the story said evidence told; he’d intentionally ignored it all, looking away from the truth he had feared. The young painter was before him, still living and breathing. Had the present Jhin had left beneath his bed really never detonated? Now that thought about it, he’d never actually installed the fuse, had he? So perhaps this was fate.

If the circumstances were less dire, he would have laughed and put down his weapon—it wasn’t every day that he could speak directly to his audience. He was sure Hwei had plenty of constructive feedback to provide regarding his performance at Koyehn. But the painter was clearly not in the headspace for that right now, if his enraged expression and pained shout was anything to go off of. And Jhin did, unfortunately, still have a job to do. Perhaps he could draw this out and find a way to have his cake and eat it, too…

Paralyzed by indecision, Jhin only barely evaded the spear of paint that Hwei suddenly shot at him. The spear collided with the grenade launcher mounted on his shoulder, tearing the metal clean off of his shoulder and ripping his cape away along with it. The bundle of explosives detonated a few seconds after contact with the paint somewhere in the air behind him; Jhin instinctively ducked away from it, holding the back of his head protectively with his armored hand as he collapsed forward on his knees.

So this was a man after all.

The weapon laid atop Jhin’s shoulder erupted into a burst of flames, shocking him forward and leaving him exposed with his full, human silhouette in front of the mage — Hwei, in fact. He was half-slumped over with his media framing his back, glaring ahead with his brush still in his hand as Jhin pathetically fell to his knees. He watched it all carefully, his glowing eyes trained on the gun still in his hand.

He could have attacked, or he could have run away. His head was already light from exhaustion, sore from the way his magic threw his body around despite the control he tried his best to exhibit. It hurt — he hurt — and he knew running was the smarter option, but how did he know that this man wouldn’t just follow and kill him once the adrenaline passed and he collapsed? He wasn’t keen on killing someone either —

This was difficult, and Hwei was terrible at making smart impulse decisions. Whenever he did, things usually just got worse.

He didn’t move, at least for a moment as Jhin recovered himself on the ground. A glob of purple shot out from his seemingly endless supply of paint, and, if Jhin didn’t have the reaction time to dodge it, it would attempt to pin his shooting hand down to the ground. Strangely compassionate, considering the terrible things Hwei could have subjected him to instead.

“Did… did you do all this?” He called out, his voice hoarse and fearfully familiar. By the sounds of it, he didn’t seem to recognize him — and he didn’t. His tone was panicked and desperate, like he had been pushed to the brink of insanity: a restrained power bubbling beneath his question.

His plan was slowly falling apart, Jhin realized as his hand was pinned beneath a glob of paint, stopping his assault dead in its tracks. He could still pull the trigger, but aiming was impossible. Not only that, but Hwei’s paint seemed to act as a catalyst of sorts, and would certainly explode on impact with the enchantments on his bullets. He’d rather not become an amputee, even if it did ensure an escape from the precarious position he found himself in.

It was clear Hwei didn’t recognize him, though it shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise: his face was covered, his skin was completely concealed by his leather suit, and he had bulked out considerably since his two stints in prison. But Jhin felt a little wounded all the same. Hwei had seen his art at Koyehn—it must have changed his life. Could he really not recognize Jhin’s handiwork? Had his art really become so stale and unoriginal?

He knew it was better to play to the painter’s emotions, but his own ego wouldn’t allow it. He chuckled darkly, pulling weakly against the paint as he looked up at Hwei, meeting his intense gaze with a sly grin concealed beneath his mask, “Guilty as charged, I’m afraid. But don’t take it personal, it’s just show business, sweetheart—I had hoped you’d have come to understand that by now.”

As he pulled against the paint, he realized he could free his hand, if only he released the gun. Imperceptibly slow, he loosened his grip, not once allowing his eye contact with Hwei to falter. He watched as the young painter’s eyes flashed a myriad of confused, colorful hues—he could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he (hopefully) realized who was kneeling before him. Still so cute even now, Jhin thought despite himself as he slowly pulled his armored hand from the back of his head, letting it rest on top of the cane still strapped to his belt

Chapter Text

If it was Jhin's goal to confuse Hwei with his words, he did so beautifully. There was a strange familiarity to this all that he couldn't deny, but all that comment did was make him lose himself in his own emotions. The paint on Jhin's wrist warped to his mood, and he felt it give way the slightest bit, allowing him to slowly-but-surely slide his hand out at the cost of losing his hold on his gun.

"Excuse me?" He responded, strangely proper for speaking to a man who had just admitted to setting a town alight with explosives. It sounded like Hwei was talking to a stranger, and to him, he was -- this panic, though familiar, made connecting the dots damn-near impossible. For such a normally perceptive young man, he was terrible at coming to an answer right in front of his face.

He had to stop getting lost in these feelings -- he knew how easily he could be swayed, and it was entirely possible that this masked man knew this too. He spoke to him as if he knew of who Hwei was, but this could have just been a ruse to throw him off base.

"Why did you... Don't -- don't speak to me like that," he interrupted himself, caught in a conflict of clashing thoughts. He had so much to ask, yet so little time; who was this man?

Jhin blinked stupidly, admittedly a little taken aback by Hwei’s continued confusion. He truly didn’t recognize him. A strange feeling of rejection settled over Jhin’s limbs, cold and prickly as it traveled up to his chest and stung his heart. He bit his lip and sighed, shaking his head, briefly closing his eyes to collect himself. When he opened them again, he saw Hwei’s eye color had caught on that confused, terrified purple. Jhin wondered just how much Hwei’s magic had changed since they’d last spoken. Had he finally learned to live without shame, or was he still stuck lying to himself?

After an awkward silence, Jhin cleared his throat. “Oh come now, don’t be so cold. Did that summer mean nothing to you?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice level. He recalled the last conversation he had had with Hwei, and turned the painter’s own words against him, like he was brandishing a knife. “Surely you feel more for me than that.”

He had wrapped his hand around the cane’s handle, ready to use the rifle if he truly needed to. It would be a bit unwieldy, but up close like this, he could see just how worse for wear Hwei was. He looked and sounded exhausted, his clothing a bedraggled, unkempt mess, and his breathing was so erratic that Jhin almost hoped he would just make his life easy and pass out. When Hwei didn’t immediately respond to Jhin’s loaded question, the killer laughed again, “You’ve really been roughing it out here, haven’t you? This is no kind of life for a rich little prince to be living, now is it?”

Jhin could see the flash of sudden recognition in Hwei’s eyes, signified by a brief, albeit intense blink of a brilliant gold.

The build-up of emotion was sudden, shocking, and violent. The masked man’s words were confusing in every sense of the word, but familiar in a deeply uncomfortable way. He tried to parse what it meant in his panic, and it was almost too much for his exhausted mind to process — his legs were already shaking from how tired he’d gotten — but the mention of that summer —

With fire raging around them both, it all felt too real. It felt like then, like he was back standing at that base of that tree, but he wasn’t alone. His emotions peaked in an uncomfortable swell of anxiety and dread, and Jhin was forced to watch as the paint behind him grew into something unpleasant, a swirl of purple, gold, and black.

“You —“ Hwei breathed, and, without even thinking, his arm outstretched. Even like this, he found a way to use more energy; Jhin had a wonderful way of pushing him in all the right directions. Paint crashed over the killer violently in a wave, slamming him back into the floor with a grip held tight of viscous jaws. His skull hit the stone path below him hard enough to make his head bounce, leaving him properly delirious — and deservedly so for such a terrible greeting after such a long wait.

Hwei slowly approached, hesitant in his steps, terrified of having his assumptions confirmed. He didn’t know what his magic would do, not like this.

“… Jhin?”

A bright flash of gold suddenly blinded Jhin, just before the tidal wave of dark ink slammed into him, pushing him over onto his front, and bashing his head into the stone beneath him. The effect on his psyche was similar to the purple paint that had struck him before, influencing his emotions against his will. He let out a broken groan as the physical pain of being thrown onto the ground met the emotional turmoil he had been abruptly injected with. It was as if he’d been struck by a beam of concentrated misery, or hit by a veritable tidal wave of despair; it felt like he was drowning, his body dashing against the rocks as he flailed uselessly for purchase in the torrent of emotions.

This went beyond illusion magic, Jhin realized as the terrifying influence over his psyche subsided just as quickly as it had initially overtaken him. He felt dizzy and his head pounded fiercely; he could feel blood dripping from a gash along his brow, and he blinked rapidly as the crimson liquid leaked into his eye, blurring his vision and intensifying his pain even further. He croaked out another groan as he turned onto his side, his hand still awkwardly curled around the base of his cane. His other free hand moved up to his mask, (the pain so overwhelming that he had forgotten it was still supposed to be ‘trapped’) dragging his fingertips over the ornate grooves to ensure that it hadn’t cracked or broken on impact. It was scuffed, but not damaged, he realized as he breathed a wet sigh of relief—that could at least be fixed.

Despite himself, he sighed and laughed when he heard Hwei repeat his name, quieter this time as he looked down at him wearily. Jhin tilted his head to the side and looked up, smiling wide behind the mask. He inwardly cringed at the taste of blood in his mouth.

“In the flesh.”

Hwei could feel the blood pounding behind his eyes, and he hadn't the slightest clue what colors his eyes showed when he glanced down at Jhin. A man almost entirely unfamiliar to him cowered on the ground, bleeding through a tight mask wrapped around his face and staining the white porcelain over it. The media that held him down wavered as conflicting emotions tossed and turned over themselves, and he kneeled down to take a closer look, seeming almost doubtful that this could be the case.

This was Jhin? No, that... --

It sounded like him, at least for the most part. That odd mask sounded like it wrapped all the way across his face, and the way it restricted his breathing and speech not only muffled him, but left him sounding breathless. The voice was similar, yes, but everything else was so different. His build, his fashion, his violence --

Maybe that last one wasn't as new as he would have liked to admit. He’d learned quite a lot about him.

He was lost in a daze, staring at him with so much intent it bordered on a violent obsession, and he leaned over him, framed beautifully by the burning timber a short distance away. Without a word, Hwei worked with purpose. It was like a desire compelled him to do so -- he didn't care at all about how Jhin felt about it. His hand went down to the base of his black mask, intending to rip it off his face in one clean, aggressive movement.

Hwei looked beautiful against the backdrop of destruction that Jhin had orchestrated for them, the killer thought almost deliriously as he continued to stare up at him, still awaiting a response. Media hung behind the painter’s frame like a halo, shifting and pulsing as if it were alive. Jhin could feel the paint on his person as well, staining the leather, warm and heavy like blood.

Jhin’s eyes widened when Hwei knelt down closer to him. His expression was disconcertingly blank, and his nostrils flared from his heavy breathing as he stared down at him. His irises had turned midnight black, reflecting the firelight that surrounded them. Taken in by Hwei, Jhin’s grip on the cane loosened, and he resisted the urge to reach out to the other, as he might have all those summers ago.

Before he could react, Hwei’s hand shot forward with almost inhuman speed to the base of his mask—Jhin immediately moved both of his hands up to block the movement, grabbing harshly at the painter’s thin, bony wrist. He fought with all of his strength to keep Hwei from pulling off his mask, practically death gripping the painter’s wrist as it worked against him. But to his horror, Jhin found himself outmuscled; he struggled to hold Hwei’s wrist in place with both hands, and cringed when he felt the painter’s fingers hook under the leather, his nails scraping against his skin. It felt as if all the strength had been sapped from Jhin’s muscles, making it difficult to even move.

“How—forward—“ Jhin ground out through his teeth with a strained, hysterical laugh. How was Hwei, this weak, bony little thing, physically overpowering him? “At least take me out to dinner first,” he spat mirthlessly, glaring at the painter’s face. But Hwei wasn’t even holding eye contact anymore, his eyes trained a bit lower, at the base of Jhin’s leather mask instead.

Regret was a feeling that came almost naturally to Hwei, but none of that existed in this moment. All that haunted him was the undying desire to confirm this bold claim, that this was the man who had haunted his subconscious for years now. There was a violent urge to peel everything back: his mask. his eel-skin hood, his skin -- lay him bare and see if this truly was Khada Jhin, his flesh and blood underneath it all.

When he tried to fight him off, Hwei did not relent. His other hand steadied itself on the ground, letting go of his brush in favor of seeing out this compulsion. His brows furrowed at the killer's halfassed attempt at a tease, finding it to be too in character for him for his own comfort, but he otherwise left it unacknowledged. Clearly, the masked man wanted to elicit some sort of reaction out of him, and he wouldn't have it. Before he collapsed, he would expose this delusion for what it truly was.

Overpowering him in his haze, Hwei ripped back the mask off his head, not even flinching as the porcelain mask clattered onto the snow-dusted stone from the impact. Hwei's pupils dilated in awe, faced with a sickeningly familiar face, now bloodied and freshly cut with blood smeared from the tight hold the mask had on his face. It took him immediately back to that summer, oppressively humid and humiliatingly vulnerable, and he recoiled lightly in shock, unsure of how to cope with this sudden feeling.

"... Y-you're... --"

Funnily enough, it looked like Hwei had just been shot.

Jhin shut his eyes as he was unmasked, turning his face away from Hwei when he heard the porcelain hit the ground some feet away. As if with any forced undressing, it felt humiliating and demoralizing—the ultimate, intimate violation. He could feel Hwei’s eyes on him, studying his features and searching his face for answers. But it was difficult for Jhin to gather the nerve to look back, still so afraid of what he would see.

He was still annoyed, and still angry. Between the two of them, it made more sense for Hwei to be dead, so shouldn’t Jhin be the one acting so shocked and scandalized? And if Hwei had walked out of Koyehn unscathed, why was it so hard for him to believe that the man who had bombed an entire town and shot at him was, in fact, Jhin? Yes, that Jhin, the Jhin that had spent that entire sweltering, suffocating summer alongside him; the Jhin that had killed his masters, destroyed their paintings, and demolished his home all in a single night. Hwei could be naive, but he wasn’t stupid—he had to have known Jhin was responsible.

Really, Jhin expected a more explosive reaction. Hwei had always reminded him of Zed, so it shocked him that the painter wasn’t using this vulnerable moment as an opportunity to strike. He was just frozen, staring at him in absolute disbelief, breathing heavily against the smoke in painful, agonizing silence.

Finally, Jhin hummed noncommittally and looked forward. He tried his best to school his expression, to relax his brow and flatten his lip, to give nothing at all to the painter kneeling before him. Hwei’s eyes were golden, his irises a thin rim around dilated pupils. His lip quivered, his eyebrows twitched, and they were so close that Jhin could feel his hot, erratic breath puffing against his own face. Jhin really had nothing to say at this point, the job completely forgotten as he finally faced the music.

A million and one urges overtook Hwei in that moment, rendering him completely still. He leaned over Jhin, studying every curve and bend to his face, unable to focus on just one thing. This face was a painting lost to Koyehn, a sight he thought he'd never see again. He wanted to punch him until he bled, he wanted to choke him until his face turned blue, he wanted to kiss him until that taste on his lips from those years ago finally washed away. Everything built into a cacophony of conflict, leaving him useless as he stared into those eyes that'd haunt him whenever he would turn over to sleep. Idly, the thumb holding his leather mask rubbed across Jhin's cheekbone, giving him an oddly tender touch.

"I-..." He choked on his own spit, feeling another surge of uncomfortable emotions ravage his mind. To Jhin, it sounded more like a sob, and the weak showcase of emotion worked in tandem with the softening hold the paint had on the killer. It was like Hwei was being bashed into a wall, but he couldn't pull himself away or fight back. Exhaustion was taking over every muscle of his body, and the mana weakness was beginning to take effect, forced out of his adrenaline by a reveal he hadn't seen coming. He hardly had time to be doing this.

"... Jhin, you have n--"

Overhead, the support to a burning building finally snapped under the pressure. In seconds, the building would collapse, and if neither of them reacted, they would both be covered in rubble.

Jhin suppressed a flinch as Hwei rubbed his cheekbone with his thumb; the gesture was so astoundingly soft and tender, and so inappropriate for the situation the pair found themselves in. He felt his chest tighten as the painter’s voice broke on a sob. Up close like this, Jhin could plainly see both Hwei’s exhaustion and emotional turmoil: his eyelids drooped, and the glow of his irises flickered weakly, evidence of a depleted mana supply. The control Hwei had over his paint had waned as well, the media pouring out onto the snow in dull, heavy droplets as it lost its shape.

Jhin practically preened when Hwei said his name again, leaning into his touch ever so slightly. His head was still spinning, and he was barely lucid—this shouldn’t be something he desired at all. But he felt so weakened, so vulnerable… Why even fight at all?

A foolish thought—all Jhin ever did was fight. Instinct took control again at the sound of snapping wood somewhere overhead. He pulled his gaze away from Hwei’s devastated expression, looking toward the source of the noise. The adjacent building was on the verge of collapse, the fire having burned through its wooden support beams. They needed to relocate immediately.

A rush of adrenaline set him into motion. He buried a hand into the front of Hwei’s overcoat and yanked him forward, tossing him like a ragdoll behind him and out of the alleyway. He reached down and tugged Whisper free from the glob of paint she was still trapped in, sliding her across the stone walkway and out of the alleyway as well. He finally scrambled to his feet but stumbled in his desperation to escape, crawling the rest of the way out just as the building toppled like a house of cards, leaving charred wood and rubble where he’d just been kneeling moments prior.

Hwei lay on the ground in front of him, looking almost comically shell-shocked. Jhin felt for his cane, and used it to steady himself and stand, leaning on it for support as he towered over the prone painter. He coughed as he inhaled the surrounding dust and smoke, the collapse of the building bringing him back to the present. As he looked around at the destruction he had wrought, he was reminded of the job he had been sent here for and scoffed. They’d have to pay him triple to finish this, and even then, he’d have to think about it.

Hwei's exhaustion was the only thing that kept him from defending himself when he was suddenly (and so rudely for that matter) grabbed. Jhin got a brief view of his eyes shooting wide, ripped out of his obsessed stupor by the dire situation the two of them found themselves in. With hardly any real effort given his weight, Hwei was thrown over Jhin's body and out towards the end of the alleyway. He stumbled as gracelessly as one would expect, his long limbs tangling like a deer, wincing as he hit the hard floor and rolling onto his back with a groan.

He tried to look back out to Jhin, to parse why he would do something so suddenly like that, but the buildings in the alleyway answered that for him. He watched in shock as the wooden frames collapsed in on themselves, blowing back a harsh wind of smoke and ash as the entire street was covered with debris. Where the two of them sat just a moment ago was now buried under feet of wood, soot, and flames.

Jhin himself barely made it out. As he climbed back up to his feet, Hwei stayed on the ground, pulling himself up by the arms and looking upon the man in horror. It was hard to focus on anything right now with everything in his body begging for a break -- he hacked through each labored breath, and his sight blinked in and out with exhaustion. His paint hardly responded to him like this, and yet, even still, he was trained onto Jhin like a vice.

This was the man he'd been looking for all this time. Whenever he'd imagine meeting him again, it was always on his terms, not --

Still unsure of Jhin's intentions here, Hwei stumbled back on the ground, holding up an elbow to cough desperately; his lungs felt terrible. Sure, Jhin had technically just saved him, but just moments ago he had been playing target practice with him down the road. That was hardly deserving of a thanks. Impulsively, the ground around him glowed blue, but nothing acted -- he had no energy to. It was like some lackluster threat from a cornered animal.

Jhin watched as Hwei tried and failed to conjure his magic, causing the ground beneath the pair to faintly glow. It was clear the painter was almost completely out of mana, his paint barely responding to his summons. Jhin felt the handle of his cane burning against his palm, that urge to kill once again bubbling to the surface of his subconscious, trying to spur him into action. With Hwei weakened like this, it really would be too easy. Jhin’s eyes snapped to Whisper, which lay just a few feet away, and then back to Hwei, who was still glaring at him, still trying to threaten him with his impotent paint.

The smoke surrounding the two was getting darker and heavier—Hwei coughed so hard he practically wretched, and Jhin realized they needed to leave immediately, lest they both become victims to smoke inhalation. With as much strength and self-control as he could muster, Jhin extended his hand to Hwei, offering to help him stand. When Hwei barely reacted, Jhin narrowed his eyes in irritation, and gestured for Hwei to take his hand with an exaggerated, annoyed movement.

“I understand your generation struggles with matters of urgency, but we need to leave, Hwei. Unless you’d prefer to suffocate.”

What? Wasn’t he trying to kill me just a moment ago?

Hwei stared up at Jhin stupidly, justifiably lost in his sudden change of motivation. Up until just a moment ago when he’d forcefully unmasked him, there had been the ever-present threat of a gun aimed at him. If he could have thought coherently, he would realize he’d been shot at at least five times in these last few chaotic moments. Now the perpetrator, a ghost from his past, was offering him his hand?

What kind of trap was he walking into with this now?

Frankly terrified of this sudden vulnerability, Hwei tried to stand up on his own two feet, but crumbled as his body didn’t respond well to the exertion of energy. He stumbled back over, feeling his head spin from mana and smoke, and, once he quelled the urge to vomit, he glanced again at Jhin’s impatient hand. Tucking away Jhin’s mask in his pocket — still held onto, how clingy — he reached out, taking his hand out of an act of desperation.

He had just been trying to kill him a moment ago, and yet, now, Hwei stumbled forward with a tug to lean against this familiar stranger. He couldn’t think clearly, not like this. He choked out a pathetic thank you through his wheezing, glancing out at the burning district and its colorful flames wicking at the old buildings reduced to nothing but firewood.

Of course Jhin did this. No wonder it felt like then, he smiled deliriously in disbelief. His head lolled to the side, putting his full body weight onto Jhin as he began to crash.

Jhin froze when he heard Hwei’s murmured thanks and felt the younger man collapse against his chest, overwhelmed by the sudden shift in his demeanor. The painter was always so full of surprises. In spite of his previous urgency, Jhin paused for a moment, his mind elsewhere as he felt the painter’s smaller, bony body against his own. He hated these old memories, these old thoughts and desires, and how they clashed with his compulsions, his entire purpose as an artist.

He put his cane away, and then brought his hand up to Hwei’s shoulder, yanking it back with more aggression than he felt and nearly knocking the painter backward onto his ass. He held Hwei in place, not allowing him to fall, but not allowing him to lean into him either, still so unsure how to treat the younger man. “Get yourself together,” he warned. “I will sooner drag you through the rubble than carry you.”

Still supporting an unresponsive Hwei with his hand, he awkwardly leaned over and retrieved Whisper, tucking the pistol into the inside of his waistband, concealing it from view. He’d lost his mask and cape, but the gun would be a dead giveaway to his identity if any of the townsfolk spotted it. Not to mention, the action made it significantly harder for Hwei to potentially snatch it off his belt. He then straightened back up to his full height and started moving, leading Hwei with a firm hand behind the nape of his neck, encouraging him to follow. He had stashed a bag of supplies outside of town, and even further from that, there was a safe house waiting for him. He needed to get them there, away from prying eyes and outside influence, to do whatever he needed to do to him.

Now, he just had to see if Hwei had the strength to walk, or if Jhin really would have to carry him.

Hwei let out a choked gasp when he was shoved away from Jhin’s shoulder. His eyes flashed bright at the sudden movement, a byproduct of his overused magic and an innate need to protect himself, but no paint followed. All Jhin got to see was the light show in his eyes as the two of them stared at each other, and Hwei only stayed upright with the hand held onto his body.

Right. Of course. Even like this, he had the sense to understand that he was being inappropriate.

Without Jhin’s cape or mask, it made leaving the scene of the crime a breeze. The only side to him people had seen was the one with the face covering and larger-than-life shape on his shoulder, and, like this, the two of them looked more like victims from the disaster seeking recovery and shelter. Hwei held himself upright with Jhin’s help, stumbling over his feet like a damned fool, kept conscious only by the one thing on his mind.

Jhin. It was Jhin. This was Jhin.

Nothing made sense. Nothing had to. If he had any energy left in his body at all, and he hadn’t been pulling his collar over his nose to save himself from the smoke, the questions on his mind would have gone on long enough to make Jhin’s ears bleed.

Down the hill into the commercial district. A part of the town still mostly held together, doing its best to save itself from being caught up in the fire above. With flaming debris falling from overhead, some collateral was inevitable — and perhaps even planned by the man responsible for this. With Hwei’s eyes hazed over, he watched the fire kindle from a distance now, and his conflicted smile remained on his face (thankfully covered by his coat). He hadn’t the slightest clue why he was smiling, truthfully.

To wherever Jhin planned to go, despite his body crying for rest, he kept moving. Only when the two of them arrived would his knees finally give out, and, unless his grip on Hwei was tight enough, he’d be sent to the floor in a state of half-consciousness.

Jhin carefully led Hwei away from the destruction, his hand never leaving the painter’s nape. He felt as if he had to maintain some kind of physical connection between the two of them, an assurance that the painter was in fact real, and not some twisted delusion.

Much of the town had survived Jhin’s attack, with the majority of buildings outside the heart of the residential district emerging practically unscathed. Swathes of survivors had gathered in the streets, working together to put out fires and tend to the wounded. His face bloodied and his costume in tatters, Jhin easily passed as a victim of the attack, as did Hwei with his hunched form and petrified, hundred yard stare. Jhin rebuffed multiple concerned townsfolk who approached them, insisting that he and his companion were fine, thank you, and chastised them for not focusing on someone who needed the help. He pulled Hwei a little closer and rubbed his neck gently with his fingertips as if to comfort him, hoping that the action helped sell the role of ‘anxious victim’ the two of them were stuck playing.

When they finally reached the town’s perimeter, Jhin turned back to take one final look at his work. He set his jaw in irritation and shame—yet another failure to add to the list. He really was losing his touch. He sighed when he pulled his gaze back towards Hwei, who was also staring back at the town. It was so cold, Jhin could see their breath, and his eyes caught on the painter’s chapped lips, slightly parted as he stared up at the night-time sky, watching the trail of black smoke that blotted out the moon and the stars. After a moment, Jhin tore his gaze away and pulled Hwei along again, leading the two of them into the forest and off of the main pathway, towards the stash of supplies he had left nearby the night prior. He watched Hwei carefully as they maneuvered through the fortunately thin brush, and while the painter still seemed practically catatonic, he managed to keep up with Jhin without losing consciousness.

When they’d reached their destination, a snowy clearing in the forest, Jhin narrowly prevented Hwei from collapsing, grabbing at the back of his overcoat to keep him from toppling face-first into the snow. Hwei blinked rapidly, still awake, but said nothing and made no move to remain standing, letting himself hang in Jhin’s grip like a kitten being held by its scruff. Jhin sighed in irritation but said nothing, and sat the painter down against a tree, turning towards the hollowed out trunk where he’d stashed his supplies.

It was literally freezing, and Jhin desperately needed the coat he had packed, his leather suit doing almost nothing to keep him warm. His teeth started to chatter, his fingertips shaking as he ripped open his pack. But a sense of horror dawned on him as he peered inside: nearly all of his belongings had been stolen. He almost never cursed, but now, he couldn’t help it. “Fuck.”

Whisper suddenly felt so heavy on his waistband… He wanted to get violent.

Hwei's body slumped exhaustedly against the tree Jhin propped him up against, enveloped in a thicker blanket of snow below. Outside of town, it was much heavier, and it should have served as a wonderful cover for Jhin's supplies, but things weren't working out well for him tonight. To Hwei, though, he had no idea what the man was doing in the trunk of the tree in the first place. He watched sleepily as he pulled out an empty pack, then furrowed his brows as Jhin exclaimed out at nothing in frustration.

He couldn't form cohesive, intelligent thoughts -- not like this. It was so cold, and his body felt like it was suspended in a viscous goo. The peripherals of his vision now were left blurred, but his eyes, still so colorful, were still locked onto that uncomfortably familiar face. Jhin.

"... Hm?" He hummed, slumping his head against the tree to take a better look at what was upsetting him. Nothing made much sense, but it wasn't a difficult thing to parse -- had something gone rotten or missing in his bag? By the way he violently shivered, unable to cover himself with even a cloak, he figured it must have been the latter.

He turned properly onto his side, holding himself up with a hand as he properly, exhaustedly faced Jhin again. He didn't know why he felt an urge to help, especially after what had just happened between them both, but maybe he was just lost in the nostalgia of those eyes.

"Come here," he mumbled, barely audible and hard to read with the puff of air covering his lips. "I -- I can help."

It would be messy, but he himself was too tired to care.

Jhin whipped his head over to look at Hwei at the sound of the painter’s weak, croaking voice. The cold had dried the blood that had dripped down over his eyelid from the open wound on his eyebrow, sealing his eye shut and effectively limiting his vision.

As he stared at Hwei, Whisper reminded him just how easily all of his problems could be resolved. It would only take a single, fluid movement to pull the pistol from his waistband and send the remaining three bullets in the chamber right into Hwei’s chest. He could steal the painter’s overcoat to keep warm, or even better, cut him open and crawl right into his chest cavity. The job would be finished, and Hwei would be both out of sight and out of mind; Jhin’s desire dead and buried, right where it belonged.

But Jhin didn’t move, taking great effort to ignore the compulsion completely. After a moment, he scoffed, “You can help, can you? Because it looks to me like you’re incapable of doing much of anything right now.” Hwei seemed barely conscious, and could hardly keep himself upright. He blinked heavily against his own tiredness, and gestured again for Jhin to come closer, ignoring the killer’s jab entirely.

Jhin wondered for a moment if this was another trap… If Hwei had the strength to help, why not use it instead to attack him? It would only be fair, after all. But again, Jhin ignored the annoying, nagging voice in the back of his head. He slowly approached the painter, one hand resting almost apprehensively on the metal hand of his cane.

Hwei remained blissfully unaware of the aching compulsion Jhin struggled with to reduce his chest to a gaping hole. The frustration written on his face, to him, was read as a result of what that bag had shown him (or not shown him for that matter). He didn't emote when Jhin moved closer, kneeling down on the ground by him, but a warmth did spread across his face on impulse -- he was closer now. He didn't want him to pull away; this all felt too fleeting, too unreal.

With shaky, exhausted limbs, he pulled back his coat to reveal his mostly empty bottles of paint. One last one had been left untouched, and he awkwardly uncapped it with his lackluster strength, pulling it out with some trouble with his hand. He'd stupidly left his brush in the alleyway, so this was his only option right now. Jhin could see the way his hand trembled from the action, clearly struggling to control himself like this. Mana sparked uncomfortably in the tips of his fingers as he stretched a warm orange out in a line, and, without even asking if this was okay with Jhin, he spread it out along his arms, then a lazy line of his chest just below his collarbone.

He was already stained with some paint, so Hwei doubted it would be too much of an issue -- and if it was, Jhin was just being a baby about it. He hitched in an uncomfortable breath, searching for some remaining power before Jhin felt a subtle warmth bloom from the media, effectively radiating heat into his skin below the suit.

"... That should... be, uh..."

Jhin regarded Hwei’s little arsenal of paint bottles with wry amusement, remaining stock still as he watched the painter channel the media with his fingertips. While Jhin knew very little about the specifics of Hwei’s magic, he reasoned that the painter could’ve burned him alive if he wanted to—and perhaps if he’d still been at full strength, he would have. But instead, Hwei just spread the paint down the length of Jhin’s covered arms, and in a stripe along his chest. Jhin felt the paint warm him up through the leather as Hwei channeled his mana into it, and sighed in relief, rolling his shoulders back as the pleasant warmth diffused over his entire body.

He flinched when a droplet of paint splashed up from his chest at the movement, landing on his bare cheek. For a split second, he was elsewhere, seeing a vision of disaster through someone else’s eyes. Maimed corpses, mangled paintings, an all-consuming fire, burning through everything it touched—Koyehn.

When he blinked, the vision disappeared, just as Hwei’s other spells had earlier. When he noticed Hwei still staring at him with that tired, pensive expression, Jhin nodded and moved to stand. “Very convenient, I will give you that much.”

It would take the entire night to reach the safehouse, but Hwei could not make the journey in the state he was in, and Jhin was too tired to carry him, still feeling the effects of Hwei’s spell from earlier. Hwei’s orange paint was keeping them warm, but Jhin wondered just how long the effect would last, not knowing if the spell would even persist if Hwei lost consciousness. Remembering the reaction Hwei’s paint had had with Jhin’s bullets earlier in the evening, Jhin turned away from the painter and walked back to the center of the clearing.

Quickly, Jhin ripped Whisper from his waistband, ignoring his mind as it screamed for him to pull the trigger. He tore her open and emptied the three bullets that were still in the chamber out into his hand, before returning the gun, now empty, back into its holster. He dug a makeshift fire pit with the sharp edge of his boot and tossed one of the bullets into the center. He then flicked a bit of paint off of his suit into the pit, careful to not touch the media with his bare skin, lest it trigger another vision. As he expected, the enchantment on the bullet detonated on contact with the paint—a large, spindly bramble bloomed and withered in a matter of seconds, sparking and crackling as the paint lit it ablaze. This would be their bonfire for the night.

Jhin walked back through the snow to Hwei, and sighed when he found the painter asleep, his body practically curled into a ball at the base of the tree. Jhin chuckled to himself when he saw that the painter’s fingers were still stained with the media he’d just painted with—always so messy, this one. Unwilling to let Hwei sleep so far away from the fire, Jhin silently hooked his hands under the painter’s back and legs, carrying him the short distance across the clearing, laying him down against another tree.

Still concerned for his own safety, and admittedly a bit perturbed by the strange truce they seemed to have reached, Jhin reached down to his belt, untying the thick rope and holding it in his hands warily. If Hwei woke up before him, he would find his hands tied behind his back as a safety precaution… and if he didn’t, well, then he would be none the wiser.

Chapter Text

Without food in his stomach or a way to regain mana effectively, sleep hadn’t done much to rejuvenate the painter. He slept well against the tree, succumbing to his own exhaustion in his coat, and the magical fire kindling nearby was more than enough to keep the two of them warm through the snowfall. His hair clung wet to his soot-stained face, and he looked properly pathetic with his arms bound awkwardly behind him, but he had no way to fight it in this state. That magic that clung to Jhin’s body was the last bit of his energy — the boy was still far too empathetic for his own good.

Waking up at dawn, however, wasn’t as pleasant of an experience. The cold to Hwei despite the embers that softly crackled even into the morning, and he woke with a start to a hacking fit loud enough to alert the other man from his slumber. He could taste the bitter grit of soot on the back of his tongue as it dislodged from his throat. His nerves felt freezing as he laid in the snow, his legs properly numbed and useless, and he tried to pull at his arms to grab at himself for some warmth, but he was stopped. A thick rope had been tied neatly around his chaffed wrists, binding him still and preventing him from using his magic — as if he’d have any energy to use it anyway.

Panic took over quickly, trying to pull himself free without taking time to recall the events from last night. Why was he tied? He felt like all of the mana had been sapped out of his body, leaving him flu-ish and useless. He had regained a bare minimum level of energy, just enough to be conscious, but clarity evaded him in his half-awake stupor. His eyes darted nervously around the clearing, out to the adjacent fire pit, and then the man slumped tiredly against the tree. He landed on the man, that face, and his stomach dropped yet again.

Was he awake from all the noise he made? Hwei could recall him being a restless sleeper, but it was a hard night last night.

In a sense, the compulsion to kill had won out—unable to sleep, Jhin had spent most of the night hunting for food. Too wary of Whisper’s seduction, he’d used his rifle to kill the rabbit instead, using a shot of long-range energy to pin it in place before spearing it through the stomach with the weapon’s bladed tip. A fair amount of meat had been ruined by his sloppy method of execution, but he’d been able to salvage just enough to cobble together a meal for him and Hwei. Just before daybreak, he’d eaten his portion and gone to bed, hoping to get at least an hour of sleep before they had to move.

Not much later, Jhin stirred to the sound of Hwei’s retching. He’d cleaned the blood off of his face the previous night, but was annoyed to find the cut had opened again, sealing his eyelid shut a second time. He watched Hwei squirm and panic in his binds during the nasty coughing fit, and shook his head, immediately rising to his feet and approaching the younger man.

“Relax,” Jhin commanded as he roughly grabbed Hwei by the arms, undoing the binds and unceremoniously dropping him back onto the snow. “So dramatic,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he plucked the skewer of rabbit meat out from where he’d stuck it into the ground. He turned back to Hwei and kneeled, offering him the skewer and a canister of water he’d unclipped from his waistband. “Your breakfast has gone cold. Drink this, and then eat.”

Hwei looked at him like he was crazy, and while he may have been correct, Jhin had no patience for it. He waited until Hwei slowly outstretched his hands and took the canister of water from him, and groaned when the painter looked down into the drink warily. “Oh, come now, it’s snowmelt, not poison,” Jhin said, rolling his eyes. Sure, the canister had previously held gunpowder, and the water tasted positively foul, but it was better than nothing. At least he was trying.

Hwei yelped as he was dragged to his feet in order to get a better angle at his binds. A finger found its way around an exposed end to the rope, and he was suddenly pulled free, leaving his sorely numb arms loose to catch himself as he was let go. He winced as he fell into the snow again, trying to calm the spinning in his head as everything crashed down on him at once. He was hungry, he was thirsty, he was cold --

He looked out at Jhin, shocked to see an offer of food. His comment of it getting cold didn't matter much to him -- he was starved anyways -- but the water was a cause for pause. It didn't look like a water can at all, and when he picked it up with his reddened, numb fingers, there was a sharp, metallic scent to it.

Against his better judgment, Hwei trusted the man that had just tried to shoot him hours before. He brought the canister up to his mouth and took a tentative sip, coughing and gagging as the taste of gunpowder slipped past his lips. He was expected to keep this down? His eyes shot wide, bewildered by Jhin's lackadaisical attitude about all of this, not even trying to eat the food yet.

"A--" he stammered, his voice hoarse and worn from before. The coughing clearly did not help. "A-are you trying to kill me? What -- this is foul --"

Jhin ripped the can back from Hwei’s hands and dumped the dirty water out onto the ground in front of them. “Fine,” he hissed. “Eat the snow off the ground like an animal, then. But in case you have not noticed, you are dangerously dehydrated.” He dropped the canister onto the ground and sauntered over to the other side of the smoldering bonfire, nudging the kindling with his metal boot.

He folded his arms and continued speaking, turning on his heel to glare at the painter, “I have supplies at a place nearby. Regain your strength, and we will go together.” He held the remaining two bullets from Whisper’s chamber and dropped them into the bonfire with a dramatic flourish. He stepped back from the pit as they exploded on impact, rekindling the flame and warming their surroundings. He had spares, of course, but that didn’t matter—he meant this as a peace offering, a way to make Hwei believe he was less dangerous than he actually was.

When Hwei said nothing, Jhin shrugged, “It seems we have a lot of catching up to do. And I would rather we do that there.”

Just as quickly as he was given the water, it was taken away from him again. He blinked in shock as Jhin childishly pulled it away and poured it out onto the ground to make a point, half-insulted and half-relieved that he wouldn't have to drink that garbage. Things were only getting more and more confusing. What was he trying to do here? Why was he tied up? Why did everything hurt? Why was he here --

In a visceral wave, Hwei winced as memories surged over him again. Bright, vivid visions of a burning village were etched into his memory, too recent to be processed as anything but positively traumatizing. It felt just like back then, down to the face staring down at him tying it all together. Not only that, but in the madness of it all, he'd been shot at. By him. Several times, in fact. He watched nervously as Jhin reached for his bullets and tossed them into the fire pit, flinching at the violent uproar of flames warming them both.

He didn't like it, not one bit. Yet, interestingly enough, he couldn't pull his eyes away. The way the colors danced in the flames was beautiful, and it reflected off of Jhin’s face so well.

Hwei took a bite of his food, now tough and unpleasant from being left out in the cold. He hadn't even had the decency to leave it over the open fire? He was cruel. Still, the promise of food, however unappetizing, was some form of energy. Maybe with something in his stomach, he could finally itemize the long list of questions in his head.

With weak knees, Hwei slowly rose, leaning against the tree for support. He was just as tall and awkwardly built as Jhin remembered, even with his layers of clothes covering him heavier than that summer did. His hair was longer now, wild and unkempt, and it only added to this melancholy look that was set in his eyes.

"... I'll... uh, I'll go, but," he agreed, but he had his own condition. Even like this, something bothered him, stuck in his daze. "Why were -- you shooting me?"

Jhin’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance, sending a bolt of pain down the side of his face as the movement irritated the cut above his eye even further. With no supplies, he’d yet to dress the wound, and he could feel it starting to get infected. He was so irritated—had Hwei not heard what he’d just said? They would catch up later.

No matter. He gave Hwei the benefit of the doubt: if anything, it was a fair question. Jhin answered as honestly as he could, without giving away too much sensitive information. This particular patron was an immediate threat to the both of them, and while he wasn’t superstitious, it sometimes felt that even uttering their name spelled imminent doom.

He clicked his tongue and sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “This is my line of work, I’m afraid. I already told you it wasn’t personal. Really, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t even recognize you at first.” I thought you were dead, he added mentally, but didn't dare say the thought aloud. He continued cryptically, “You have upset some very powerful people, Hwei.”

As he spoke, he took in the painter’s appearance, finally viewing him fully in the light for the first time since their reunion. He was just as tall and slender as Jhin remembered, his thin frame apparent even beneath his baggy, winter clothing. He still hadn’t fixed that awful slouch, and he looked so gaunt, having lost the healthy glow he’d had as the rich, spoiled heir Jhin had once known him as. His eyes were, simply put, haunting, and they swam with a myriad of muddy, hurt colors that shifted erratically as he listened to Jhin’s response.

The sudden influx of information was almost too much for his mind to handle. He had so much filling his mind, about him, about Koyehn, about his time away from that island, but Jhin's words chilled him to his bones. His eyes showcased a wondrous sea of purples, tossing and turning with uncertainty at the cryptic warning.

Upset some powerful people? He mulled over this thought in his mind, swallowing uneasily. This only worked to spawn a medley of new questions; was he supposed to kill him? Was he still going to kill him? Was Jhin hired to --

A harsh pang of pain shot through Hwei's head like a gunshot, and he doubled over, reaching up with his free hand to grab his head. He felt like he was bordering death, and the added dehydration worked in tandem to leave him dizzy and nauseated. Feeling his lip quiver, he brought up the food to his mouth again to take another bite, cringing at the texture. If what Jhin said was true, he had to at least survive getting there. He didn’t have the privilege of doubting his words at that moment. He nodded exhaustedly, still too delirious to make much sense of it all. His body felt like he was being weighed down with a sack of bricks, and there was nowhere proper to rest and recuperate. He quietly agreed to go, in hopes to calm whatever frustration was brewing in Jhin at Hwei's insatiable curiosity.

The walk over for them was far less tortuous in the morning. With very little to carry -- nothing for Hwei other than his paints, as Jhin had burnt it all in his rental home -- the only thing holding them back was Hwei's lackluster speed. The cold was still bitter at this hour, with the sun only barely peeking over the snow-capped trees overhead, and, in the far distance, Hwei could still see the remnants of smoke billowing out into the sky.

Right. The town. He turned away from it, feeling an odd sense of guilt for something he hadn't caused.

It was a slower trek than either of them would have liked, but at about ten in the morning, a small building half-built into a tree came into view. Its lights were off, blending it almost seamlessly with Ionian architecture into its more natural surroundings, and, for all intents and purposes, it looked abandoned. Hwei's feet dragged tiredly on the ground as he approached the first sign of shelter they'd both seen in hours, desperate for any sign of drying off and peeling off this stupid coat.

The two of them made it to the porch, and, briefly, Hwei hesitated. Just hours ago, his last attempt at entering a home had gotten him nearly shot and killed by Jhin. He turned back, sniffling through the cold to wait for the other man to go first. It'd make him feel better, at least. He still had no clue if he was just being led here to be killed.

The long trek to the safe house was completely silent—Hwei was clearly stuck inside his own head, a walking tangle of angst and confusion. This, ironically, reminded Jhin of the Hwei from Koyehn the most, and he found himself chuckling under his breath every time he looked back at the painter and his troubled, pensive expression. The primitive entertainment at least made Hwei’s painfully slow pace a little more bearable than it would have been otherwise.

Finally, after hours of walking, the pair arrived at their destination. Standing on the front porch of the small hovel, Hwei stepped aside and gave Jhin an expectant look, clearly waiting for the older man to take the lead. “Stay,” Jhin instructed as he fed his mana into the door handle, using his magical signature to confirm his identity and actuate the lock. His other belongings had already been stolen, so it wouldn’t surprise him if the hideout was infested with squatters, or worse, any of his patron’s followers. Without looking back to check if Hwei was obeying his instructions, Jhin entered the hideout, from Hwei’s perspective completely vanishing into pitch darkness as soon as he crossed the threshold.

The safe house was an enchanted space, bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. Jhin walked with purpose down a long, dark hallway, one which was easily larger than the diameter of the tree trunk the hideout had been built into. In addition to being spatially impossible, the hideout was transient, and in a few days would no longer exist here, replaced instead by the abandoned interior that should’ve been inside in the first place. Jhin hoped that the space would remain at least until this little reunion had concluded.

The man sighed as he reached the end of the hallway, pushing aside a red, beaded curtain as he entered the actual living space. The hideout was but a single overly-decorated room, reminding Jhin of Piltover’s decadently extravagant hotels and casinos. The lounge space in the center was currently empty, but the back wall consisted of a kitchenette, a glass table and two chairs. To the right was the bedroom, and to the left was the bathroom, but neither space offered any privacy, the doorways blocked off only by the same tacky beaded curtains present in the front hallway. It was all so typical of this particular patron, and it really made his skin crawl.

Jhin did a quick sweep of the hideout, but found no evidence of any intruders. He breathed a sigh of relief when he confirmed that the space was stocked with food and had running water, but paused when he turned to look at the glass kitchen table, noticing something that had been left on its surface. He recognized the black puzzle box immediately—his patron’s preferred method of communication. Just as his performances asked questions without answers, Jhin loved to create puzzles, but hated solving them. He sighed in annoyance, leaving the box out on the table. He would handle it later.

Having confirmed that the hideout was safe, he turned back towards the front hallway. He hoped that Hwei had been a good boy and stayed where Jhin had put him, but he found himself doubting that that would be the case. Hwei had changed so much since they’d been apart, and he’d already established himself as a very slippery individual.

As Jhin had suspected, Hwei hadn’t obeyed that rude command. He wasn’t some dog, and he wouldn’t be treated as such, even if a small part of him yearned to lean on Jhin the entire walk over. He stayed put for a moment after Jhin disappeared into that building, enveloped in the shadows of whatever enchantment this home had on it. The magical signature exuded out of this door alone was like nothing he’d ever seen: too physical for just some illusion magic — was it some method of teleportation? He was curious, but his body ached too much to think about it too extensively.

Curiosity — as well as an undying need for warmth — eventually won him over. He trailed behind Jhin as he disappeared beyond those beaded curtains, pleasantly surprised to find the way the biting cold left as he walked through the fabric of magic held by the door. He blinked slowly, running his hand along the hallway’s wallpaper, unfamiliar with this style of architecture. This was nothing like what he’d seen in his time in mainland Ionia —

He peeked through the beads, and the gaudy interior design that met him beyond it. His eyes lit up in surprise, taking in all of the information at once, clearly not expecting something so faux-lavish and frivolous. It was all so red, so starkly different from everything he’d seen outside, and he briefly glanced back to the hallway before looking back at Jhin, thoroughly lost.

“… What… is…” He mumbled, overwhelmed by several senses. An awkward, sweet smell hung in the air, bathing the room in the sickening scent of a candle burning by the kitchenette. To anyone else, this entire place would have been seen as tacky and cheap, but Hwei had never seen anything like this before. His eyes were lit up in blue, showcasing his curiosity as he took a step inside.

“This — this is the same building as outside?” He mumbled, half talking to himself more than anything else. His fingers gently touched the doorway draped with beaded curtains, feeling the grooves enchanted with a magic unlike anything he’d ever seen. He felt exhausted, pushed beyond his limit, but it had a comforting effect on his nerves. “You didn’t do this, did you?”

It didn’t seem like his style.

Jhin nearly jumped at the sound of Hwei’s voice somewhere close behind him, catching himself just in time. He straightened his posture and turned on his heel to look behind him; Hwei was hovering by the entrance to the lounge, preoccupied with the beaded curtain. Jhin watched as the painter studied the beads, holding one between his forefinger and his thumb as his eyes shone with an innocent, blue curiosity.

“Certainly not,” Jhin shrugged, refusing to elaborate or offer a satisfying explanation to Hwei’s questions. “This is a little loud, even for me.”

Hwei’s voice was still alarmingly hoarse, so Jhin walked over to the kitchen sink and poured them each a glass of water. The distance was needed—Jhin felt his heart pounding in his chest, a strange bout of nervousness overtaking him. He was still so confused by Hwei’s demeanor. He was obviously wary of Jhin, but didn’t shy away from him. More than ever, he wore his heart on his sleeve, making himself seem so open and vulnerable despite everything that had happened between the two of them. Was Jhin doing that now, too? It was hard for him to tell.

He set Hwei’s glass next to the sink and gestured for him to drink it, too busy downing his own glass. As he drank, he pulled a first aid kit from the cabinet, but didn’t hand it over—he wanted to treat his own wound, first. “Please wash up properly before you even think about lying down,” Jhin warned Hwei as he watched the painter sway on his feet. Jhin knew the young mage was exhausted, but he wanted to keep the hideout pristine.

Hwei was admittedly amused by the way Jhin spun around to find him so close by. He didn’t lean in too close to try and rip away any of his remaining personal space, too exhausted for his frankly unnerving demeanor from before when he’d pinned him to the walkway and unmasked him by force. Now, his body language felt more like some sick animal, carrying himself with a pensive and exhausted look. He looked perfectly harmless, but Jhin should have known that to not be the case. Their confrontation from before had been more than enough to prove otherwise.

There would have been concern for the water if Jhin hadn’t already been chugging his own glass. Making his way inside, he brushed past the beads and walked over to the kitchenette, leaning awkwardly over the counter to support himself as he took the glass into one hand. He took a cursory sip to test its taste, and when his body didn’t immediately reject it like before, he desperately leaned back and gulped it down with a primal need. It was a euphoric feeling, the way he could feel the barest bit of energy return to his body, and he lost himself in a coughing fit, almost choking it all back up when he emptied the glass down his throat.

He winced through his discomfort, panting as he recovered from his near-death (how dramatic) experience. His eyes didn’t quite meet Jhin’s anymore, lost in all of these foreign colors, textures, and smells. The request made it to his ears though, and he looked up at Jhin in a daze, mildly confused.

“… Wash up?” He mumbled back, barely himself. His eyes trailed over to what he assumed to be the bathroom, and he instinctually cringed at the lack of a door. “I can, uh… wash… my hands if you want, take off my coat, but —“

He was absolutely filthy — both of them were. That would barely help him right now.

“No, no,” Jhin corrected him, condescendingly wagging his finger in Hwei’s face as he shook his head. “You understand exactly what I mean by ‘wash up.’ Go bathe—you are filthy. I will lay out a change of clothes for you.”

Hwei was clearly uneasy about the lack of privacy the beaded curtains provided, and a part of Jhin sympathized. But the almost two decades he had spent in prison had completely broken Jhin of that need, and now he couldn’t help but find Hwei’s concern foolish and trivial. Oh, grow up, you spoiled little thing, he wanted to say, but opted for a different strategy. Being too mean to Hwei was unwise, now that he was beginning to regenerate his mana. He still knew next to nothing about Hwei’s magic, and he’d rather not provoke the beast.

Hwei was acting so vulnerable and sweet. Jhin wondered for a moment if playing into their previous relationship was a good idea, but his mouth moved faster than his better judgment. Before Hwei could get a word in edgewise (and before he could stop himself) Jhin chuckled and leaned forward into the painter’s personal space, crossing his arms, “Will you need any help? There’s no need to be shy—I’ve already been exposed to everything there is to see. We could just bathe together, no?”

If the finger-wag hadn’t been enough to make him feel talked down to, that sly comment was more than enough. His expression briefly twisted into displeasure at being so bluntly condescended, not intending to take it so lightly, but that tease knocked any remaining air clean out of his smoke-coated lungs. His eyes sparked with a curious color, clearly shocked, and he blinked uncomfortably as his face flushed hot with embarrassment.

He knew Jhin to be blunt, but this was intense, even for him. Referencing their time together so casually after disappearing from his life so dramatically, then attempting to take his life — if he hadn’t been so dizzy, he was sure he would have snapped back with something properly meant to shut him up.

He would have liked to believe so, at least.

“That’s — n-no, that’s not necessary,” he stammered, raising a hand as if to convince him further and cut the closed distance between them both. His voice was riddled with conflict like it always was. He refused to acknowledge any side of him that found the thought of that appealing, returning to that closeness with him he’d fantasized about all too often. Some thoughts deserved to stay to himself.

“I’m not a child,” he argued in a juvenile sense, working against the point he was making with ease. Both of them knew that, with his feigning strength, help would have been appreciated. The only reason he denied it outright was because of it being Jhin. He shrugged off his snow-slicked coat and dumped it lazily on one of the kitchenette’s stools, ignoring Jhin’s desire for a tidy space entirely. He needed to collapse somewhere, but if he was being such an ass about cleaning up — “I can handle myself just fine. Just… help with the clothes please, thank you.”

Jhin nearly laughed at Hwei’s petulant claim that he wasn’t a ‘child’, but the painter’s next action completely killed his amusement. He curled his lip in restrained disgust as Hwei shrugged off his filthy coat and dropped it on one of the kitchen stools. He could tell the move was intended to anger him, too, with the way Hwei’s eyes flashed a challenging, aggressive yellow.
Loathful as he was to admit it, though, it was still amusing how Hwei’s polite tone clashed with his rude actions. Always so full of contradictions, this one…

Jhin did his best to take it all in stride—Hwei had agreed to bathe properly, so he would treat this as a victory. He picked Hwei’s coat up off of the stool and flung it over his shoulder, beginning to unzip his own leather suit as he brushed past the painter, walking towards the closet tucked away in the corner. The suit really was terrible, leaving him freezing in the cold, yet sweltering in the heat; he didn’t intend to go completely nude, but he removed enough of it to bare his arms and chest, letting the rest hang awkwardly at his sides. He removed his armor as well, sighing in relief at how much lighter he felt afterwards.

As he hung up Hwei’s coat properly, he turned to look at the painter. Unsure if he was waiting for Jhin to do or say anything further, Jhin waved him over to the bathroom encouragingly. “Well? Go on. I will get your clothes shortly. And I was serious, dear; if you need help, just tell me.”

When Jhin turned back around to look at Hwei, his eyes were trained nervously to the side of the room, working carefully to not get a glimpse of Jhin’s half-naked form. It looked straight out a cartoon, the comical way he’d avoided his eyes in favor of anything else. With his shoulders fully exposed — a new fashion choice, one that Jhin would not have been familiar with — his tension was only more obvious.

This was the man so concerned about social etiquette? Yes, it was true that the two of them had spent quite a bit of time together some odd summers ago, but they ended on terms worse than most. It wasn’t like they had met on good terms again either — Hwei could hardly think with how hard his head was spinning. To half-strip in front of him so shamelessly like that, without first acknowledging their tension, like it wouldn’t elicit some sort of reaction —

Maybe it wasn’t that dramatic for Jhin, and Hwei was just frustrated that it made him react so much. Before he’d pulled his eyes away out of respect, Hwei had gotten a glimpse of just how much Jhin had bulked up since he had last seen him, and it was a disgustingly thrilling sight.

No, that was terrible. Stop.

He wasn’t thinking right; once he got some mana back and soaked, he could process things with a degree of normalcy.

Without a word, afraid of how his voice would waver, he nodded at the prompt and headed over to the bathroom. He walked through the thin shade of beads with his tail between his legs and tried his best to imagine it gave him some privacy. He worked quickly to unclasp his crest from his overshirt and shrugged off the fabric, lightly stained from the ash that made it through his coat, but it was thankfully largely unharmed. His pants, however, did not share the same fate. He sighed silently to himself, procrastinating on undressing further.

He looked out at the tub, and a foreign anxiety hit him all at once — this looked nothing like the appliances he used to bathe himself in Ionia. A lot of this place was new to him, both in style and functionality, but these valves and levers looked incredibly intimidating. Curiously, he tried to reach out and twist a valve, and he bit his lip nervously when nothing came out. Was he just being stupid, or was his exhaustion making things not make sense?

He swallowed uncomfortably, glancing out of the bathroom towards Jhin — his back was turned, working on some other thing, but something was clearly wrong if he wasn’t running a bath by now.

He twisted another lever, and, all at once, steaming-hot water poured over his hand. He yelped in joint shock and pain, pulling back dramatically and stumbling onto the floor. Jhin could hear a loud thud from where he was, as well as Hwei’s initial exclamation of pain. If he was to investigate, Hwei would be splayed out on the floor of the bathroom, gripping his hand in pain in his half-coherent state.

Jhin turned back to face the closet when Hwei finally snapped out of his reverie, heading to the bathroom without another word. Jhin practically strained his ears listening to Hwei’s every movement: beads clacked as the painter brushed aside the curtain and entered the small space, and fabric and jewelry rustled as he, presumably, stripped naked. A silence, and then the sound of levers being pulled, the tell-tale shunk of water rushing through pipes—

Though Jhin would never admit it, not to a soul living or deceased, he practically leapt across the room at the sound of Hwei’s pained yelp, followed quickly by the rough, familiar thud of a body collapsing against the tiled floor. Shoving the curtain aside, Jhin leaned in the doorway, his hands on either side of the door frame as he took in the scene. Perhaps too late, he schooled his panicked expression, intentionally flattening his brow and pursing his lips.

Hwei was not unconscious, thankfully, but he was evidently injured, sprawled out on the floor and clutching his hand, his face screwed up in pain. When Jhin saw the water rushing out of the tap, steam billowing from the tub in a large cloud, it became obvious what had happened.

“Did you burn yourself?” the older man sighed, shaking his head as he knelt down beside the dazed painter. He reached behind the painter’s back, intending to move him to a sitting position; he barely registered Hwei’s nudity until their bare skin made contact, sending an electric shock through his fingertips and up his arms. “Sit up,” he instructed, chewing his lip nervously.

Jhin wasn’t sure if Hwei would accept his touch or pull away. He gave him the space to do either, keeping his touch featherlight but his presence firm. His gaze flitted over to the bath again, observing the complex array of dials and levers. These inventors overseas just loved to overcomplicate everything—just looking at the mechanism, Jhin wasn’t even sure if he remembered how it worked, so he couldn’t blame Hwei for the mistake.

He resolved to help Hwei draw his bath, but that was only if the painter didn’t start screaming at him to get away.

Hitting his head back against the floor tile of the bathroom only made processing things even more difficult. He felt the oncomings of sickness, and his body ached deeply for some warmth and relaxation, but a blunt bloom of pain was wrapping around the back of his skull now. It almost nullified whatever pain he felt in his fingertips — it was a quick, minor burn he was surely overreacting to, but this mana exhaustion made everything feel exponentially worse. He barely even processed Jhin running up to the doorway until he was already there, kneeling down by his side and badgering him with a question.

He groaned, clearly ashamed of himself, but he didn’t pull away when Jhin hooked a gentle hand around his upper back. With the way his shirt fell, skin met skin, but he didn’t react to that just yet. If anything, he leaned into it, much like last night. He followed the instruction led out for him and slowly rose to his knees, shuffling around on the ground to return to some degree of normalcy.

That was beyond humiliating.

With Jhin’s hand still on his back, he looked out at the tub with a dizzy look in his eyes. He bit his tongue, tempted to ask for help, but certain it would turn into something condescending and embarrassing if he gave up on the small amount of pride he still had.

“… I haven’t seen something like this before,” he decided to admit, rubbing his fingers awkwardly. At least they were warm now. He sounded spacey, yet still concerned by how pathetic he could be perceived. A silent request for help without handing his ego over. “This style… it’s not Ionian, is it?”

Jhin finally pulled his hand away from Hwei’s bare shoulder, flexing his fingers unconsciously as he put his hand in his lap. He sighed, his chest prickling as he shuffled over to the bath, still on his knees. “No, it most certainly is not. This is more of a… Piltovan construction,” he began, his disdain for the style readily apparent. “Needlessly complex, and hideously over-designed. If you ever travel overseas, you’ll see the style everywhere.”

Jhin leaned over the edge of the tub, reaching up to turn one of the dials. The blistering temperature of the water gradually cooled to something more manageable, but the flow became choppy, coming out of the tap in a series of uneven starts and stops. He reached for a separate lever and pulled it, pausing when the water stopped flowing entirely.

Before he could react, the shower head directly above him shook to life, immediately dousing his head and upper back with water. Jhin huffed out a long, dramatic sigh, embarrassed but unwilling to show it. He barely reacted at all as he was soaked; the water was a comfortably warm temperature, anyway, so a part of him actually enjoyed the sensation. He eventually clicked the lever back, switching the water back to the tap, and turned his head to look at Hwei out of the corner of his eye, “There. But really, at the very least, shower before you bathe, so you aren’t just sitting in your own filth. Use this lever to change the tap—and I’m sure you can figure out how the stopper works.”

Piltovan… So then why was something like this out —

Hwei’s thoughts, slow and murky, were cut short when Jhin was doused in water. His hair and top was soaked, leaving his skin slick with water, carrying a little bit of the water out of the tub and onto the outside tile. He would have been flustered by the sight, by the way his back muscles instinctually tensed under the warm water raining down on him, and he was — it was a uniquely erotic sight to see from behind him, still sitting on the bathroom floor. Yet, then he heard that tense sigh, and, despite what he knew to be polite, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the absurdity of it all.

So he wasn’t just stupid for not knowing how it worked.

He pulled his eyes away from Jhin’s half-naked body, shakily pulling himself up to his feet to look at the mechanism once more. He had to get a hold of himself, especially now that he was sure his face was burning hot. Whether it was from embarrassment or not, he wasn’t sure.

“You’re — just going to sit all wet until I’m done,” Hwei realized, thinking aloud with another quiet laugh, stifling it back with a cough. The image of that was hilarious, admittedly; he could imagine him sulking with his dripping hair, tapping his foot impatiently to finish cleaning himself off. Eventually though, he did realize all of this teasing was a bit rude — he was just helped, after all. He bit back an odd pang of guilt.

“I’ll clean myself well enough. I know how showers work.” If he’s going to tease me for how he’s seen me nude before, surely he’s not implying I’m dirty —

Jhin’s embarrassment worsened when he heard Hwei chuckle at his misfortune, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it, as Hwei’s observation made him pause. ‘You’re just going to sit all wet until I’m done’ felt like pity, and for the briefest of moments, Jhin almost believed that Hwei was about to take him up on his earlier offer to bathe together. Hwei had always been so soft and compassionate, it made sense that he may have felt bad for Jhin getting soaked on his behalf, and perhaps wanted to…

No. That was a foolish thought, and reality proved that conclusion correct. The offer never came, and just a moment later, Hwei essentially said he could clean himself just fine. Feeling a strange sense of defeat, Jhin rose to his feet, running a hand through his hair to wring out some of the water. He turned to look at Hwei, who was staring at the series of dials and levers, still swaying back and forth on his feet. His eyes caught on the cut of the painter’s sharp collarbones, the dip of his breastbone that disappeared beneath his shear top…

Jhin awkwardly cleared his throat and stepped out of the bathroom, overtaken by a sense of unease that hit him deep in the chest. He had put his weapons away in the closet, but he felt his fingers practically itching for something to grab onto, to hold and keep himself grounded. He settled with the edge of his leather suit, bundling up the fabric in either hand like he was a nervous child.

“Actually, I would advise you to avoid a bath altogether,” he said to Hwei, not looking at the other to avoid eye contact, just in case he was watching him. “I don’t want you falling asleep and drowning.”

He paused to think and added in a much less kind tone of voice, “And please do not use up all of the warm water. The mechanism that heats it doesn’t work instantaneously. You’re not the only one who needs a hot shower right now.”

Chapter Text

Hwei capitalized on a moment of privacy quickly. Thinking nothing of the way Jhin ripped himself away, too caught up in his own self-disgust and need for warmth, he pulled the bottom of his long shirt over his head and ignored the way the sharp movement left him dizzy. Shaky hands felt at the string of his pants and stripped himself there as well, leaving him nude after a quick process.

His fingers hurt, but at least they were functional. Blood was returning to his limbs, slowly but surely.

Wasting no further time, Hwei stepped into the shower. The hot steam from the water and smooth surface of the tub left Hwei weak in the knees, having figured before that he could rely on a bath to lie back and relax. With each passing moment, Jhin had a new comment to make about how he should bathe, and he bit his tongue at the idea that he now had to be frugal about his use of hot water. He’d just nearly frozen to death — what was he saying, telling him to hurry up now? In his half-aware state, at least, it sounded unrealistic and selfish.

If he wanted Hwei to be kinder about the water, he shouldn’t have treated him so roughly up to this point. Was the rope truly necessary?

Silently, Hwei slouched under the running water. The only thing that proved time was passing was the uneven rhythm to the artist’s labored breathing, still having trouble with it all. It was a much longer wait than Jhin would have liked before Hwei finally spoke up again, sounding properly feverish from the steam.

“… Do you have the clothes?” He called out, uncertain if Jhin had forgotten or not. He wouldn’t have imagined a reason for him to be distracted here. If Jhin stole a glance, Hwei was half-facing away, still taking comfort in the warm comfort of the shower — any longer, and there would be no hot water at all. Likely an intentional, petty move in his state — Hwei knew how showers worked.

Gripping onto his leather suit successfully grounded him, but touching the loose material made him realize just how filthy the outfit actually was. He briefly looked towards the bathroom, ensuring Hwei was distracted by his shower, before he stepped towards the closet and stripped naked, leaving the suit in a messy, crumpled heap on the floor. He quickly retrieved one of the many obnoxious, fluffy robes from the closet and put it on to maintain his dignity; he then hung his leather suit up in his place beside Hwei’s coat and headed towards the bedroom. As gaudy as the robe was, Jhin couldn’t deny its warmth or softness—perhaps he should make Hwei wear one too, and feel a little less humiliated by his own enjoyment of it…

He laughed to himself at that mental image, shaking his head to himself as he knelt down in front of the bed, pulling out a trunk of clothing out from where he knew it was stored underneath the box spring. He clicked open the trunk and immediately set to work, sorting the clothing inside with an almost clinical precision. The clothing stored here came in a variety of styles and colors, intended to be useful wherever his patrons’ agents operated—Jhin had his work cut out for him.

As Hwei showered, Jhin crafted an outfit for the painter, agonizing over each article of clothing as he laid the ensemble out on the bed piece by piece. The selection of Ionian styles had been unfortunately limited (while he knew Hwei would look good in anything, he stuck with what he knew the painter was familiar with), but Jhin was satisfied with the end result. The pure white upper garment was understated yet elegant, the collar inlaid with floral gold embroidery, and the diaphanous robe worn overtop was the perfect shade of mauve, with matching embroidery on the loose, flowing sleeves. Jhin nearly added the matching skirt to the ensemble, but ultimately decided against it, opting for a more practical pair of baggy, dark lower garments—judging by what the painter had been previously wearing, he would likely prefer them.

When he heard Hwei ask for the clothing, Jhin called out to him that it would be ready in a moment, neatly folding the clothes and piling them into the crux of his arm. Just before he left the room, however, he remembered that he’d failed to pick out underwear. He briefly picked through his options, and laughed to himself when he accidentally plucked a black thong out from the pile of clothing. He doubted Hwei would wear this even if they were on good terms. He chucked the thong onto the clothing he’d picked out for himself (also laid out on the bed) and then headed back to the bathroom, making sure to also retrieve the painter a towel before he entered.

When Hwei turned around to address the man at the doorway, he fully intended to make it a quick grab-and-go, covering his more sensitive areas with his hands to make sure Jhin placed the supplies on the counter. As he looked over, however, he spotted Jhin’s frankly ridiculous outfit, and he choked on a coughing fit as he lost himself in his laughter. Things were just getting weirder and weirder — none of this felt real. Was this just some sort of fever dream, and he’d died back in that alleyway?

He grabbed the towel quickly, wrapping it around his waist as the water shut off — with a little trouble, of course. It gave him at least a bare minimum of privacy like this, but still left most of his body on display; he was thinner now, and yet his skin still looked so clean despite how unkempt his long, wavy hair made him look. The dark strands of hair were long enough to collect by his collarbones, stuck to his skin. The ends of his hands were stained from acrylic — the soap the refuge provided wasn’t enough to take out such deep-set stains.

“Pink, huh?” He grinned sheepishly, and the color matched his eyes. It was the happiest he’d looked so far. “I didn’t… pin you as a fan of that color. Have, uh, things changed?”

He’d seen him wear pink before, yes (in fact, one of his main shirts that summer was pink), but all of his color choices felt rich — he just looked gaudy in something so bright and ridiculous.

Jhin kept a stone-faced expression in response to Hwei’s teasing laughter, fluffing up the ridiculous collar of the robe as he ignored the painter entirely, meeting his own gaze in the bathroom mirror. He considered his own face carefully, looking at the cut above his eyebrow. It had finally scabbed over, but had turned that corner of his face red and swollen, a sign of infection. It threw off the hideous symmetry of his face, which Jhin liked, but an infection could be trouble… Perhaps it would eventually heal into a nice scar, but he really needed to treat it immediately. Or at least after his shower.

He sighed at Hwei’s last comment, adjusting the robe to rest lower around his neck. If Hwei had voiced his other thoughts about Jhin’s choice in attire, the older man would have agreed: he typically preferred richer, classier colors, never anything this loud and obnoxious. But he did have a proclivity for pink; it always found a way into his outfits or performances, one way or another. “Would you believe me if I said pink is my favorite color?” he asked. “In any hue and in any shade.” Pink was the color of spring, the color of love and of life. The color of newborn flowers, of fresh fruit; of watery blood and vivisected intestines. It was the color of Hwei’s eyes now, too, as well as his flushed cheeks, Jhin noted as he looked off to the side at the younger man. He offered the painter a wry, genuine smile just for a moment, before he reached down to the tie at his robe, undoing the knot with a single tug.

“Now, if you’re done—” he said as the robe abruptly dropped to the floor, revealing his nude form in all its impure glory. “I will be taking my shower now, thank you.”

He cared very little if Hwei was dressed yet or not. He was absolutely filthy, and could not stand it for a second longer.

Hwei's amused smile dropped in a second when Jhin dropped his robe down to the ground, allowing the fabric to fall gracelessly down his shoulders and onto the tile. He was in the midst of his thoughts about Jhin's favorite color, how this meant he definitely knew less about him than he thought -- a theme he was noticing by now -- but Jhin had an affinity for the theatric.

He took a step back, nearly falling (again) from the slippery floor and cracking his head open on the porcelain. His hand shot out to grab onto the side last-second, steadying himself and ripping his eyes away from the other man. His face burned hot, hotter than before, and his free hand clasped over his mouth in impulse shock. "Jhin --" He choked, making quick work of stumbling out of the tub and avoiding any even peripheral vision with Jhin in it. Even if he had been the one to undress, Hwei still felt an odd sense of guilt by stealing a glance at him.

The flash second he had seen him would remain in his mind for longer than necessary, though.

He pushed past him, careful not to touch much as he brushed through the beaded doorway. His clothes were tucked hurriedly under his arm, surely creasing the delicate fabric the slightest bit in his rush. Wanting to introduce as much distance between them as possible, he made his way fully into the bedroom, calming his racing heart by throwing the clothes onto the bed and yanking off his towel. He brought up the fabric to his face, rubbing hurriedly in some attempt to both dry his hair and scrub the embarrassment out of his mind. It took a moment with the way his feverish mind stumbled over itself.

Pulling his head back up, he glanced out at his clothes Jhin had pulled out for him. It didn't look like his wardrobe -- had he picked something in particular for him? No, that made no sense, he didn't know he was going to be coming here at all --

He squinted down at the folded top, unfurling it and raising his eyebrows at the gentle, elegant design. He was able to pull it open and shrug it over his shoulders easily, pleased by the way the soft fabric allowed his hot skin to breathe as he tied it back over himself. His fingers ran over the embroidered collar, reminded of the way his clothes back at Koyehn temple used to fold. It was only when he finished pulling the robe over himself did he allow himself to sit down, half-collapsing into the bed.

His eyes briefly flitted to the side through the doorway, and he saw the more distant impression of Jhin's body washing himself. It may have just been his lack of self-control in this state, but he allowed himself to watch just for a moment from his clear vantage point, and he took note of his new silhouette.

Stop, that's dirty.

He groaned at this sudden debauchery, discomforted by the heat building on his face both from his sickness and his inner monologue. He turned his eyes away, looking to the other side of the bed, and his eyes caught on what he assumed to be Jhin's clothes. Why didn't he bring them in with... --

Hwei's eyes shot wide, pulling his head up to the ceiling as he stopped himself from looking there as well. He pulled his robe over his pants, groaning exhaustedly into the air as he pressed his forearm over his eyes.

What was happening?

Jhin smirked at Hwei’s flustered, panicked reaction, his eyes following the painter as he bounded away like a startled animal. It delighted Jhin to know that he was as shy as he’d always been, and it felt so good to rile up Hwei after all of that earlier teasing—the painter needed the reminder that Jhin would always have the upper hand.

When he finally entered the shower, though, he frowned; Hwei had in fact used up all the hot water, leaving it ice cold and incredibly uncomfortable. Originally, he had wanted to use the shower as an opportunity to collect his thoughts, but his physical discomfort made it too difficult to concentrate. Instead, he just strained his ears to listen to whatever Hwei was doing in the bedroom only a few meters away. Jhin breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Hwei collapse on top of the mattress; it was a reminder and reassurance that the painter hadn’t left yet, although at this point, he had no real reason to stay.

Moments later, Jhin felt an odd prickle at the back of his neck—the sensation that hit him whenever he was being watched. He could almost feel Hwei’s eyes on him, raking over the lines and curves of his silhouette from across the room. How rude, Jhin thought wryly. He’d at least tried to keep himself from staring at Hwei, but it appeared that the painter didn’t have the same reservations. And really, he had the audacity to stare after being so flustered earlier? Perhaps he really had changed more than Jhin had thought.

Once he was cleaned to his own satisfaction, he shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, briefly drying himself with his towel. He stared at the pink robe he’d discarded. It was dirty now, so he couldn’t wear it, but there were similar ones left in the closet—he was so cold, he almost felt tempted to put another on. He ignored the urge, though; he’d been in various states of undress all morning, and he longed for the comforting privacy of his clothing, and perhaps even his mask.

He crossed the lounge room with purpose, and entered the bedroom, walking over to the side of the bed with his clothing. Again, without warning, he dropped his towel and began to dress himself, ignoring whatever Hwei’s reaction was, not even looking at him as he lay on the bed nearby. And of course, he started with the thong.

Hwei had been lying down in the bed for a good several minutes before Jhin had gotten back. By the time Jhin spotted him again, he was curled into himself on his side, craning his head up at the ceiling to avoid looking the half-naked man directly in the eyes. Even still, he winced when he heard the towel drop, and he turned uncomfortably to keep from facing him at all. He felt lightheaded, and he wasn't sure what was causing it anymore.

Yes, he'd taken a look at him in the bathroom before, but he had no idea Jhin knew that. To him, it was a guiltless act of self indulgence in his half-lucid state.

"Do... you do this often?" Hwei asked behind clenched teeth, stifling a cough and clearly dancing around the point he was trying to make. Alluding to the obvious. "I-I don't recall you... being so, um, comfortable."

Although he didn't allow himself to think much about their past together, finding it far too much to process, he couldn't help himself with this. Down to displaying his choice of underwear, it was like Jhin was trying to fry his brain.

Jhin paused—he had no idea how to answer Hwei’s… question? Accusation? What was the painter trying to imply? Slowly, as he considered his words, Hwei’s confusion began to make sense. At Koyehn, Jhin had been putting on a performance, playing a different character than the current one. Hwei thought he knew him—he just knew his mask.

And speaking of that, he’d yet to retrieve his mask from Hwei. His porcelain mask was likely lost for good, but his leather face covering was expensive, and he wanted it back. He brushed Hwei’s question off with a vague reply, “The man you knew at Koyehn is not the man who stands before you.” They had already agreed to talk later, so Jhin didn’t feel the need to start explaining himself so soon. He then continued before Hwei could speak, cutting him off even if the painter had tried to immediately respond, “Where is my mask?”

He quickly finished dressing himself as he waited for Hwei to respond. Compared to Hwei’s elaborate outfit, Jhin’s was plain and understated, consisting of an embroidered burgundy tunic and tight, black pants.

What a terrible thing to hear, even in this state.

The mention of that name, of that place, it soured Hwei's mood substantially. His eyes flitted to the side nervously, struggling to grapple with these negative feelings in his stupor. His words were simple, and yet they implied so much. If that man wasn't the real Khada Jhin at all, then what did those years of obsessing and yearning amount to? Were they about someone who had never existed at all?

No, that wasn't right.

His next question snapped him out of the beginnings of a spiral. That mask. So odd, so unlike the Jhin he knew and yet it made so much sense. It was so extravagant when placed next to Jhin's understated face -- was that the point of it? Seeing it before had sent him so far into a rage he'd --

"Your... mask? From last night?" He asked, clearly puzzled. He didn't know about this part of Jhin at all, and his cloudy mind didn't help in the slightest. "It's... I-I have the black one I think, I... put it in my coat. Why?"

Jhin was becoming more and more anxious by the second, he realized, a harsh tangle of emotion pinching his chest. Why did he want his mask? Did he need a reason? And would the reason matter?

He wanted the mask because he wanted it—because he had been naked since the previous night, and didn’t want to be anymore.

He failed to control his breathing, and it rattled and shook disconcertingly as he turned away from Hwei and exited the room, once again walking over to the closet. He tore into the pockets of the painter’s coat, haphazardly scattering the empty paint bottles and other nonsense onto the floor until he found his mask. He moved over to the kitchenette and began to wash the material in the sink, scrubbing it aggressively with his bare hands under the lukewarm water. Gradually, the water began to heat again, eventually becoming so hot it was burning his hands, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too focused on the task at hand.

He hadn’t slept or eaten or drank much at all in the past day, which, paired with all the strenuous exercise, had put him in a very bad way. But he’d also put himself in a very precarious situation, sharing a space with a mage who he was starting to believe was capable of killing him, but who was holding off on account of some sick sentimentality—a misunderstanding that they were closer than they actually were. All his bravado washed down the drain with the blood and grime he scrubbed off his mask.

His fingers itched to hold Whisper in his hand again. She was always his lifeline, the ultimate coping mechanism… But he couldn’t, and he shouldn’t, so he just stayed standing by the sink, hands braced against the counter as he stared down at his mask, utterly distressed.

Hwei was completely unaware of this little breakdown Jhin was teetering over into, at least the specifics of it. An annoying trait about Hwei, both to him and to others, was that he always seemed to be able to pinpoint when someone was in a bad mood. It was never a firm feeling in him, but rather something in the air, changing the way the mana flowed and basking the person in unpleasant hues -- purples, reds, greens, blacks. Even from the kitchenette, Hwei could sense the way Jhin's emotions shifted this energy in another, more volatile direction. This home wasn’t large after all — it was hard to get out of Hwei’s sight, for better or worse.

With some trouble, Hwei slowly picked himself up on the bed, glancing blearily out to watch Jhin lean over the counter of the sink. It was hard to see him properly like this, but his body language hardly looked approachable -- he gripped onto the mask with a certain, violent determination that felt so red it squeezed at his own chest. He observed him in quiet, granting him his first time to truly process what had been going on since he first lashed out at him back in the alleyway.

This was Jhin, the man he’d been chasing after so blindly.

None of this felt real -- not this house, not this situation, not this man. He was able to simply roll with the punches in his lackluster state for his survival, craving rest and a meal above all else to regain some mana, but even he couldn't deny how weird this all felt. It felt more dreamlike than anything. The two of them had just been killing each other, and, if he remembered correctly, Jhin excused it as some sort of business. What was this faux truce? Was he meant to kill him? If so, why did he let him bathe and offer him a change of clothes, or even prevent him from freezing through the night? Was this some long-term extension of Koyehn, and he was simply meant to finish the job he started now?

He didn't make sense then, and he didn't now.

Slowly, Hwei sat up on the edge of the bed, trying to get a better look at Jhin's odd compulsion and the way it radiated negativity into the air. It was like he was infectious. Despite his waning strength, he rose to his feet, nearing the doorway to watch him a bit more closely. Hwei idly pulled at his sleeve slipping over his shoulder back up, unable to tie the top properly with his lack of energy.

"Jhin?" He called out in the midst of their silence, attempting to snap him out of it. He had no idea if Jhin would react well, but it didn’t feel smart to let him continue to burn himself like this. "... What are you doing?"

The sound of Hwei’s concerned voice pulled Jhin out of his own head, bringing him back to reality. The steam from the water was hot and suffocating as it washed over his face, and he let out a ragged, dramatic sigh as he shut off the tap. He felt tempted to put the mask on immediately, but it would smell if he didn’t dry it properly, first. So, he grabbed a hand towel from where it hung on from one of the cupboard’s handles, and remained quiet as he scrubbed inside of the mask in repetitive, circular motions. He wondered what Hwei made of his behavior, but couldn’t bring himself to turn around and look at him; the painter’s eye color would give Jhin an excellent hint, but he was scared of what he would see.

Even when he was finished wiping the mask down, it was still slick and slippery from the water, not completely dry. Not to mention, his hair was still wet as well… Still feeling so naked, but also aware of the sensory nightmare that awaited him if he put on the mask, he hung it up to dry over the sink, also returning the towel to where it had been hanging previously. The itch he had for Whisper returned as soon as his hands were empty, so he placed them right back down on the counter, thrumming his fingers against the granite in patterns of four. “Cleaning,” he finally croaked out in response to Hwei’s question, likely much too long after the painter had spoken to be appropriate.

He still felt Hwei’s eyes on him, but was unsure of what the painter would do. They had to eat, they had to drink and sleep and regain their energy and then they could talk, he knew, but he felt so paralyzed by his own contradictory desires.

By the time Jhin had finally answered him, Hwei was halfway through the room to the kitchenette, approaching slowly but surely. He peered over Jhin’s shoulder cautiously at the sight of that odd mask being hung to dry, and then the way his reddened, freshly scalded hands (still lightly stained with blood for that matter) gripped the countertop with an intensity so strong his knuckles turned white.

Despite himself and what he thought to be a smart move, he reached out and cupped a hand on Jhin’s wrist, trying to pull him to look back at him. If Jhin turned, Hwei still looked downright awful with his droopy eyes and uneasy balance, but there was a certain look in his eyes that could almost be read as searching. Trying to read him in a sense, to get a fraction of a reason why his mood suddenly dipped so drastically.

They were closer now.

Jhin didn’t hear Hwei’s approach over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears, and lightly jumped when he felt the painter’s hand on his wrist. He tugged at it insistently, obviously still very weak, and the contact made Jhin wary; he could feel Hwei’s magic, weak and depleted but still present, thrumming right under the surface of his skin.

It had always been strange to Jhin how magic in humans was innate, but there was no evidence anywhere in physical anatomy that made that obvious. There were no veins that carried mana, no organ or gland that purified the arcane; he’d ripped open enough bodies to know that for a fact. But with Hwei he’d always been curious, with how his very eyes changed color in response to his mood. He fought with the compulsion towards violence, wrestling it into submission before he turned and locked eyes with the painter.

He finally took the time to fully take him in. The outfit Jhin had picked out looked great on him, the colors complementing his pale skin and dark, deep sea-green hair, the style accentuating his tall, thin frame. But his exhaustion and injury were palpable. His eyes had practically sunken into his head, the dark circles beneath them carving deep grooves into the porcelain of his face. His lips were dried and chapped, with cracking in the corners that looked painful. He was still swaying slightly on his feet, and all of his movements were choppy and lethargic, like he’d just woken up from a restless sleep. This whole situation really did feel like a dream. A lucid dream that Jhin felt in control of—he’d orchestrated all of this, after all—but still a dream, nonetheless.

Whether Jhin knew this to be the case or not, in a skilled ink mage’s case, there was a hint of media in his blood. It blended seamlessly into the crimson like the blood itself was just one of his many colors, and it shifted easily with his eyes, painting his insides with something unique. He could conjure up his magic from within him — it existed both in the air around him and deep within his body, mixed with his very soul.

He leaned in just slightly, not expecting Jhin to just stare back. He was hardly a voice of reason in this state, but he was fascinated by this sudden behavior, this lapse in his confident exterior as he gave way to some odd compulsion. His hand stayed on Jhin’s, allowing the man to take him in in his full, exhausted glory, and he granted himself a moment to look at Jhin too.

There was that cut on his forehead that was only given attention recently, but, apart from that, the resemblance was uncanny. It was like he was looking back out at the man standing in his studio, glancing down at one of his works with genuine curiosity in his eyes, searching beneath the colors for a deeper meaning. It was an uncomfortable feeling to see what practically felt like a dead man’s eyes once more, even if he had changed considerably since then.

He didn’t pull away, dragging his eyes back up to Jhin’s own. He’d been wandering, and he hated it.

“Tell me how you feel. You’re… what’s wrong?”

Jhin thought that the way that Hwei had worded his question was hilarious. It implied a familiarity between the two that wasn’t there, like Hwei knew how he ‘normally’ acted, and that this outburst was something out of the ordinary. Maybe there was another world where he did. With each of them dressed up in costumes, standing side-by-side in a lavish suite, Jhin could easily imagine the scene, like something out of a stage play. Jhin was the tormented Othello, and Hwei his sweet Desdemona, concerned by his descent into madness but unwilling to leave his side.

No, no, that comparison made no sense. If anything, Jhin was the conniving Iago, and Hwei, well… Hwei wasn’t much of a performer at all. Jhin sighed. They would resolve this mutual misunderstanding soon. They really had to, he thought when he looked past Hwei to the kitchen table, at the black puzzle box that he still hadn’t addressed. He had to reach a final decision regarding the fate of this job, and the conversation that he had promised Hwei was the only thing that could help him make it.

Gradually, his breathing stabilized, and he finally trusted himself to speak.

“Wouldn’t you agree that some things are better left in the dark? You ask far too many questions for your own good,” he replied to Hwei after a long silence, though the irony in his statement was apparent. If anything, Hwei hadn’t asked him enough questions—he’d even blindly followed him to his safehouse, seemingly never considering how it could have been a trap. “ You have questions about me that go deeper than this, I’m sure, and I will answer them. But you look as if you are about to fall over. Go rest.”

Even Hwei could sense the hypocrisy in that statement. He may have hardly been lucid like this, but he knew well enough that he wasn’t asking him nearly enough. To be told to stop searching so bluntly, like he was no more than a prying child, it put a terrible taste in his mouth. His fingers tightened over Jhin’s wrist as he tried to take that jab in stride, understanding why he would be frustrated with his curiosity but unwilling to hide it away. It was a part of him, and Jhin had always told him to not shy away from his true self.

Then there was that command — go rest. It was surely just a byproduct of his mental state struggling to keep up with his body, but something about those words left him feeling empty. Willingly going back to bed ran the risk of waking up from this dream, and Jhin would be gone once more. He would awake in some abandoned cabin in the woods, half-frozen to death and a victim to his own madness. Possessively, he tugged Jhin’s wrist closer, unwilling to let go.

He didn’t want him to leave. Letting him out of his sight ran the risk of never seeing him again, and that felt like a fate worse than death. He opened his mouth, tempted to beg for him to stay with him, but he stopped himself just in time.

What is wrong with me?

“You need rest too,” he decided, taking a step back and still holding onto their connection with his long fingers laced over his wrist. “We’ll… talk later, but — you haven’t slept either, it looks like.”

Jhin’s eyebrows rose in surprise when Hwei pulled him away from the counter—even when his grip eventually loosened, he maintained the skin-to-skin contact. Again, that presumption of familiarity irritated Jhin. Would Hwei ever act like this with a stranger? Jhin hadn’t seen him in years, so he couldn’t say.

Thankfully, the itching he had felt for his weapons had faded into a dull ache into the back of his head, and he felt more confident as he pulled away from the counter. He slotted back into the role he had been playing earlier. He was self-assured and in control, and not grappling with the unsavory desire to grab Hwei’s head and smash it against the granite countertop. He had to be.

“Inviting me to bed so soon, are you? You really are more forward than I remember,” he teased, a smarmy smirk plastered on his face. He doubted Hwei intended to share the bed with him, and he’d been planning on sleeping on one of the plush couches in the lounge area anyway, but he just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be obnoxious. He knew the painter was very annoyed by his mocking flirtations, and hoped that this would be enough to create more distance between the two of them.

Hwei’s breathing stopped when Jhin made such a shameless comment, halting him dead in his tracks. His hand still touched Jhin, but he had half a mind to pull away at that, disturbed by his own impulsive thoughts. In his inner monologue, he had figured the two of them would share a bed together — he didn’t want to lose sight of Jhin in this mental state the two of them shared, but the way Jhin described it made it all sound so provocative and shameless.

He didn’t mean to —

Hwei pulled his eyes away, and Jhin could catch that brief flash of pink that overcame him. It traveled up from his cheeks to his eyes, leaving him feeling shameless and childish. He still clung to that feeling with their skin-to-skin contact, craving some form of closeness in this state he found himself in, but he didn’t want to seem like he was courting him of all things.

He could feel his heart thumping in his ears. He hated this.

“If — you would like, you can sleep out here,” he offered as if it hadn’t been on Jhin’s mind at all. Clearly, his presumptions were elsewhere. “I didn’t mean for… y-you need rest,” he pivoted, finding no strength in his arguments. He knew deep down why he wanted this, and he felt rotten.

“It’s your bed.”

Jhin was very surprised when Hwei barely admonished him for his joking suggestion, pivoting before he could even verbalize a total rejection. The older man felt his chest tighten when he saw how the painter’s eyes turned pink to match his embarrassed flush, pausing when he heard Hwei’s last sentence.

His bed? None of the furniture here was his—nothing here was his, save for his eel skin suit and empty bag. But Hwei was seemingly not aware of that, which made Jhin smile even wider; he would be sure to use that misconception to his advantage. He nodded and sighed, finally pulling his hand out of Hwei’s grip as he brushed past him, walking towards the bedroom. “You’re right, it is my bed, so I’ll use it if you really insist.”

He looked over his shoulder and beckoned Hwei to come back to the bedroom, “I don’t mind sharing. And don’t look so embarrassed—since we are both so exhausted, I promise there will be no, mm, funny business.”

Jhin wondered how Hwei would react to him saying that phrase in particular; it was yet another reference to that summer they had spent together in Koyehn. One of Hwei’s masters had deeply disapproved of the painter’s relationship with Jhin, even from the beginning, assuming it was much more sordid than it truly was. “No funny business!”, she would remind Hwei nearly every time he went to meet Jhin, to the point where it became an inside joke of sorts between him and the painter (even after the relationship had been consummated, and her fears had become a very explicit reality).

Hwei felt his stomach drop when Jhin pulled away from his touch, adding to that feeling of this all being so fleeting and unreal, but all he did was push past him and motion for him to follow. He swallowed nervously, already feeling his guilt mounting into something unbearable in this state — this felt like something straight out of his dreams. Was this real, or was this some sick orchestration of his mind, painting a face in his memory standing in the doorway of the bedroom they could share?

He didn’t want to process this. The reality made him sick.

Hwei started to walk again, craving that overly plush mattress manufactured more for comfort than real support. It felt like a hug before, and he wanted it again now, even more if Jhin would be on the other side. He almost let Jhin’s biting comments about his embarrassment roll off with no issue, trying to take it in stride, but the mention of that phrase the two of them used to chuckle over in the most secluded corners of the temple left him empty. He could picture his master’s disapproving face when she pulled him aside. He could picture her body strung up on the wall.

”You —“

This was real. This was definitely real. That, or he was in hell.

His eyes flashed through various shades of pinks and purples, almost indistinguishable from each other before he picked up the pace and made his way into the bedroom. He bit his tongue to keep his mouth shut, unsure of what to say in response to something so cruel, so provocative of the time they used to share together. The worst part of all is that, despite everything, he still craved it.

He wished Jhin wouldn’t have missed.

He sat himself down on one side of the bed, struggling to ignore how odd this all felt. He pulled off the robe, figuring he would get tangled up in it in his rest — he had a tendency to toss and turn in recent years — and folded it haphazardly on a side table. Unable to help himself, he looked back to get a glimpse at Jhin.

Jhin watched Hwei fold his robe, holding back his comment about how the robe was fine silk, for spirits’ sake, and that his sloppy way of folding could ruin the fabric. He always found it ironic how neatness was alleged to be a sign of good breeding, yet every person he’d met that had been raised among the upper class was nearly incapable of it, so used to their servants and caretakers doing everything for them. It seemed after years on his own, Hwei still hadn’t fully adapted, perhaps because he had no one left to teach him. Jhin clicked his tongue—what a shame.

But that was the nature of life, as well as the nature of his work. The world was a cruel and unfair place, stratified and miserable. He had long accepted that. But at least he was adding to it, injecting song and color into what was normally so quiet and dull. He wondered what kinds of art Hwei made these days, and if he felt he could say the same.

Yes, Hwei’s art did concern him, he reminded himself as he slid into bed, laying on top of the sheets flat on his back without another word. The paint he used to channel his magic had powerful illusory properties that seemed to impact emotion, and maybe even memory. The specifics eluded him, but he knew it had the capacity to be dangerous, perhaps even deadly. But thankfully, his earlier rummaging through Hwei’s coat had proven he was completely out of media, and their skin-to-skin contact earlier had shown him the painter still hadn’t regenerated much of his mana, so he would be safe sleeping next to him. And that was especially true because he was such a light sleeper—he would definitely wake up immediately if Hwei so much as breathed wrong.

“Feel free to turn off the lights,” he murmured as he folded his arms over his chest, though he didn’t personally care if they stayed on or not. He felt Hwei’s eyes still on him, even as he tried to fall asleep, so he continued, “As I said, rest. We will eat when I wake up, and then you may ask me all the questions that your heart desires.” He then added facetiously, “And I will not tie you up this time, I promise.”