The Devil In You

Downward Spiral

Suggested listening: Yoe Mase, Jackie Mase - Downward Spiral

During the weeks that came after that night, Jin needed Hwoarang more than ever to regain his strength. But he could feel something was wrong. Sure, he didn't back off from any of the tasks which were asked of him, but he wasn't behaving like the Hwoarang he knew and loved. His characteristic humor was dull, almost empty and it felt forced, his effusions were mechanical, unlike the passion which always moved him in everything he did. When questioned he just said everything was okay, or that he was just tired, and Jin could smell alcohol on him more often than not on these last days. But he was still bedridden and forceless, and didn't have the mental strength to take on Hwoarang's problems as well, as bad as it sounded. Not yet, anyway.

-Do you think I will be able to train with you in, say, a week or two?

-I don't know, Jin. I'm not a doctor, but I'd say you're still in pretty bad shape. You need more rest. The training will come.

-Are you training these days, by the way?

-Who are you, Baek? No, I'm not training. I'm doing everything here at home, I'm already as tired as it gets. I need my rest as well.

-And with "rest" you mean "alcohol".

-I beg your pardon?

-Hwoarang, I'm not stupid. I can smell it on you. Very often.

-Last time I checked, I was an adult. I can drink, thank you. Can we move on from the subject now?

-Why do you get so defensive, if it's not a problem?

-Because you're making it so, Mr. Perfect Kazama. And you know what? Eat your dinner by yourself, I'm going to pour myself one or two, because I can.

-You're acting childish. But as you wish.

Hwoarang basically flew down the stairs and sped to the kitchen, opening the cupboard with all the alcoholic drinks. He chose a strong Japanese gin for the night to come, and started drinking directly from the bottle. He was angry at himself for lying to Jin, for not having the strength of telling him the truth, for starting binge drinking again, and he was angry at Jin for pointing it out. And so he drank more. It made no sense, he knew that. And yet he couldn't stop. He was down more than half a bottle when he was finally able to force himself to quit. Too late, though: he could barely walk straight.

"I can't go upstairs to him like this. I'll fucking sleep on the floor like the fucking loser I am". And so he did. He fell asleep sitting on the floor, against the kitchen counter. When Jin didn't see him for the night, he imagined something similar. He was both angry and sad at Hwoarang for wasting himself like that.

The morning after, the Korean, dressed just like the day before, brought the breakfast to bed to Jin.

-Morning.

-Slept well?

-Do you really want to start a discussion at eight in the morning, Jin? Is this how you want to play it?

-I could ask you the same.

-I'm not going to follow you into this. Here, your fucking breakfast. Eat and regain your strength. I'm going out for a ride. Don't worry, I'll be home to prepare you your lunch.

-Hwoarang, can we talk?

-No. I'm your motherfucking maid. There's nothing to say to the maid, apart from the orders. And I'm done taking them for the morning. See you later.

He hopped on his chopper and sped up way beyond the limit as soon as he was on the highway. He felt at the limit. Everything was eating away at him, one way or another, and he was responding in all the wrong ways. He couldn't seem to stop. The more he did, the more his position got worse, and he was well aware of it. He felt like he had pushed the self-destruction button and there was nothing more to do but wait for himself to explode. "You're ruining everything. Stop, you idiot, stop until you still can. You will have to beg for a second chance already. Don't worsen your position". He returned home, way before lunchtime; he went straight to Jin.

-Jin. Please, forgive me. I'm sorry about before. I'm an idiot. You have any reason to be mad at me now. But if you still want to talk, I'm here now.

Jin waited a dozen of seconds before answering, looking at Hwoarang initially with angry eyes, then with his normal expression.

-I just wanted to tell you that I tried turning into Devil Jin yesterday night. I couldn't do it. It's just like you said, it's too weak already to come out intentionally. I highly doubt it could ever come out on its own. I decided to stop the treatments. The pain was too intense last time. And I cannot ask you to assist to that anymore. That would be selfish of me. I wanted you to know.

-I... I don't know what to say. I'm... speechless.

-I thought you'd be happier.

-No, I am, just... I thought I would have to fight you to make you stop.

-Saying the right words was sufficient, Hwoarang. I listen to you.

-Yeah... well, I'll call the creepy doctor then, okay?

-Maybe it should be me calling.

-Nah, you're still a bit weak and he will do anything to make you continue. Can't do that to me. Calling now.

Hwoarang went downstairs. He could barely breathe. Jin took a decision, an extremely important one based on a lie. And telling him now would be even worse than before. He was truly fucked. "What have I done?"

He truly called Bosconovitch to tell him the treatments were over; the doctor was upset, but accepted "Mr. Kazama's will". Then it was time to cook lunch. But he felt the urge to drink, stronger than ever before. And so he drank, before midday, three beers and four glasses of rice liquor. "You stupid, Jin will know". He cooked something easy, some white rice and vegetables with fish on the side, and brought it up to Jin. Just looking at how he moved, at the lucidity of his eye, Jin knew he had drunk.

-Hwoarang...

-Jin, here's your lunch, by yours truly.

-Put it on the nightstand. We need to talk. About you.

-Me? What's to talk about? How handsome I am?

-Hwoarang, first it was one or two glasses at night. Alright, no problem. Then it was half a bottle. Then even more. And you slept twice on the kitchen floor. Now you're drinking... in the morning? You've never done that. Never. What is happening? Please, Hwoarang, tell me. You have a problem. A serious one. We can work it out, together.

-I don't have a problem. I just felt like drinking some while cooking, that's all. All this nurturing you is sweet, but has taken its toll on me, I'm just tired. I need some personal time and space, you see. Not that I don't like taking care of you.

-The fact that you don't see it as a problem worries me more than the fact itself. I can't help you if you don't help yourself. If you don't want to be helped.

-I need... time to clear my head. I've said so many things... so wrong. So many I should have said and I didn't, wrong that, too. It's all wrong, Jin, all wrong, wrong, wrong.

-Hwoarang, I don't understand you. You need to sleep. Here, come to bed. Lunch will be fine even cold, later.

The Korean laid himself on the bed, murmuring things.

-I'm bad, Jin, I'm the devil, not you... liar. You will hate me. Hate me forever. I ruined us. Liar. Hate me...

Jin started quietly eating his lunch, not knowing what to expect from the next conversation with a sober Hwoarang, some hours later. A somber sensation permeated all his bones.