he's trying not to have a panic attack. let's put that in perspective.
lu bixing's done a really good job trying to put himself back together, here. with the help of lin and the chance to rebuild, he's been, brick by brick, able to claw himself back together. the facade he's so carefully trained and focused on building over the past seventeen years is almost, almost flawless, and the places where he's stumbled, he's had lin there to see. he's never seen the worst of it. just the cracked and broken pieces that remain.
... but this. this is everything, laid out raw.
this is every horrible part of lu bixing over the past seventeen years. this is the public executions and the experimentation, this is the track marks on his arms, the crushing, miserable grief. he sucks in a breath that feels like it's too big for his lungs and jerks backwards, and he'd almost laugh, that lin knows him so well that he grabs his hand.
for him, this is like torture.
he shuts his eyes when he hears his knife scrape through his desk the final time. he's trembling, shaking like a leaf, and the first thing out of his mouth is a choked off - ]
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
[ isn't it a time to beg forgiveness?
he barely hears what lin jingheng says over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. over the shame that rips through his system like a wildfire. over anxious, miserable fear. lin knows, now. he knows every part. it doesn't matter that he rebuilt himself, because the ashes are still there. he wants out of this hole. he wants - he wants - ]
no subject
well
he's trying not to have a panic attack. let's put that in perspective.
lu bixing's done a really good job trying to put himself back together, here. with the help of lin and the chance to rebuild, he's been, brick by brick, able to claw himself back together. the facade he's so carefully trained and focused on building over the past seventeen years is almost, almost flawless, and the places where he's stumbled, he's had lin there to see. he's never seen the worst of it. just the cracked and broken pieces that remain.
... but this. this is everything, laid out raw.
this is every horrible part of lu bixing over the past seventeen years. this is the public executions and the experimentation, this is the track marks on his arms, the crushing, miserable grief. he sucks in a breath that feels like it's too big for his lungs and jerks backwards, and he'd almost laugh, that lin knows him so well that he grabs his hand.
for him, this is like torture.
he shuts his eyes when he hears his knife scrape through his desk the final time. he's trembling, shaking like a leaf, and the first thing out of his mouth is a choked off - ]
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
[ isn't it a time to beg forgiveness?
he barely hears what lin jingheng says over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. over the shame that rips through his system like a wildfire. over anxious, miserable fear. lin knows, now. he knows every part. it doesn't matter that he rebuilt himself, because the ashes are still there. he wants out of this hole. he wants - he wants - ]