[ lin jingheng watches this memory play out like a film at the cinema. were the subject not so dour and literally close to home, this might even constitute a date. instead, his ass hurts and his breath is slowly catching in his lungs as he watches the days and weeks go by, sees the hair curl around lu bixing's ears, watching him tear himself limb from limb.
his fingers curl around the arms of the chair, his eyes wide. there isn't a word for it, because it's both horror and tragedy, it's a man stewing in his grief. he watches him salvage zhanlu, watches him numb himself up to the point of where he has to bite down on his tongue so he doesn't say a word.
until finally the lights slowly rise. he can hear something in the background shifting, starting to switch film, but there's a short amount of time in between.
a cold sweet starts to form along his spine. and as he turns to look at lu bixing, his brows are knit and his breath won't go anywhere, a solid brick in his lungs. he fumbles in what remains of the dark to grab lu bixing's hand before he can even think about trying to escape this place without him.
uttered softly, round like it's on the verge of sadness that doesn't know how to grieve anymore. ]
Bixing.
[ he clutches his fingers, holds fast to his knuckles desperately.
the theory of magnetism that surrounds lu bixing is dangerous, like wildfire, and lin jingheng has witnessed its pull time and time again. lu bixing could see failure and forge himself anew, and finally, lin jingheng whispers: ]
I came as fast as I could.
[ this is not an excuse, he begs no forgiveness. it's the beginning of a story, and he can't tell it alone. but as he waits, he gives lu bixing the floor to speak. ]
I have the time. The means. I can tell you now... [ it makes him sick. ]
gives this a tag to fuckin live in the moment jfc claps
his fingers curl around the arms of the chair, his eyes wide. there isn't a word for it, because it's both horror and tragedy, it's a man stewing in his grief. he watches him salvage zhanlu, watches him numb himself up to the point of where he has to bite down on his tongue so he doesn't say a word.
until finally the lights slowly rise. he can hear something in the background shifting, starting to switch film, but there's a short amount of time in between.
a cold sweet starts to form along his spine. and as he turns to look at lu bixing, his brows are knit and his breath won't go anywhere, a solid brick in his lungs. he fumbles in what remains of the dark to grab lu bixing's hand before he can even think about trying to escape this place without him.
uttered softly, round like it's on the verge of sadness that doesn't know how to grieve anymore. ]
Bixing.
[ he clutches his fingers, holds fast to his knuckles desperately.
the theory of magnetism that surrounds lu bixing is dangerous, like wildfire, and lin jingheng has witnessed its pull time and time again. lu bixing could see failure and forge himself anew, and finally, lin jingheng whispers: ]
I came as fast as I could.
[ this is not an excuse, he begs no forgiveness. it's the beginning of a story, and he can't tell it alone. but as he waits, he gives lu bixing the floor to speak. ]
I have the time. The means. I can tell you now... [ it makes him sick. ]