[ help. he probably does smell like a skunk. he is pathetic. skrunkly. a pathetic little wet dog left out in the rain. he takes a breath, shaky, shuddering - it feels stupid. it feels like he's going to throw up, from crying, from drinking, from shame, from the weight of the past seventeen years of his life, from sending tuuri to her death, from losing kon, from the trauma of sacrifice and how it weighs so, so hard on his shoulders.
he's letting himself loose in those thoughts, letting them carry him away, down into a spiral, but lin jingheng pulls him back. he always does. his attention is scattered and miserable, but when lin jingheng asks, he doesn't hesitate.
his head tips a little into his hand, into the one on his cheek, but he slowly lifts his head to look up at him through his thick lashes, eyes wet, face flushed, perfectly coiffed curls a fucking mess, dark circles under his eyes. he still looks. ]
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he's letting himself loose in those thoughts, letting them carry him away, down into a spiral, but lin jingheng pulls him back. he always does. his attention is scattered and miserable, but when lin jingheng asks, he doesn't hesitate.
his head tips a little into his hand, into the one on his cheek, but he slowly lifts his head to look up at him through his thick lashes, eyes wet, face flushed, perfectly coiffed curls a fucking mess, dark circles under his eyes. he still looks. ]