[ you remember how mad lu bixing was the last time you got brutally injured and almost died and tried to walk it off
that's about how mad he is right now. once everyone else is gone and lin's been bandaged and treated, lu bixing herds him off to the shower that is now cleaned and locks the door. he points at the shower. ]
Strip, please. [ in like, the least sexy way possible. ] I know you won't ask for help even if you need it.
[ (but really, this is how he copes. he's learned how to cope, now. he's learned to look at his own emotions like a critical observer, and set them aside. that's what he's had to do.) ]
[ yeah he remembers, he remembers real good. how could he forget?
he allows himself to be herded to the shower, though the furrow in his brow hasn't left since he stepped off the ferry. as lu bixing decides to??? start ordering him around???? he lifts his head and basically holds his stupid shirt closed and stares at him for a long moment. ]
And your burns? What about those?
[ mrgh. emotions. he lifts a hand and starts unbuttoning his shirt (slowly), shrugging it off his good shoulder and then carefully starting to extricate it from his bandaged shoulder. it is about as slow as a wounded person gets, but lu bixing is right... he won't ask for help even if he needs it. ]
[ this is better. he lets him stare at him all he likes, waiting impatiently to see if lin jingheng is actually going to do what he's told or not. ]
It's fine. [ because it is - just a surface burn, saved from any serious damage by his coat, but even still, he turns his arm to let lin jingheng see that it's nicely bandaged up, and steps past him to turn on the water. ] I'm not the person with two bullets in me -
[ ugh. there he goes, right as he turns around - so, so slow. it hurts lu bixing to watch him, makes his heart ache. makes him see - makes him see it, again, when he closes his eyes. the bullet. the blood.
he shakes it off and comes over, batting away lin jingheng's hands and starting to remove his shirt for him. lu bixing comes close, in his space, and starts working at the buttons, his own brow furrowed, trying not to bite his lip. ] You are so - I worried, so much, I thought, seventeen years would change you, and you are exactly the same.
[ there's a note of frustration in his voice, but it doesn't have any heat. ] I can't - I could hate you to death, the way you do this.
[ exit wounds. remember? all the same, he doesn't fight it, not when lu bixing moves towards him and begins to fuss his hands away. he lets his fingers fall to rest gently on lu bixing's forearm, to follow the slow motion of him as he removes each button.
eventually, they move, a hand sliding up to cup lu bixing's cheek gently. ]
I'm sorry, Bixing.
[ since when does jingheng apologize? fucking never. but lu bixing can make him kneel in a confessional in less than two seconds, saying penances because he cares. it's frightening. shutting his eyes. he's trying to remember the moment, the impact, but he was both there... and he wasn't. he felt further outside of his body than he'd ever been, than his time spent nearly brain dead, focusing on each dropped letter or apostrophe, cobbling together a lie to survive.
he blinks slowly and then just presses lips to his forehead. very softly. right there on the forehead. ]
You can hate me... [ fear.jpg ] I could understand.
[ he gives him such a fucking LOOK when he says that about the BULLETS you are the WORST PERSON
but it's just a look, and, honestly, any of that frustration and anger comes out of him like a deflating balloon. his hands are trembling when he's undoing the buttons - it's, once again, probably good that he doesn't have his biochip, or else they'd be halfway across the room. as he looks up at lin jingheng properly, brows knitted together, cheek pressed into his hand, just trying to bore his emotions into him without his words. don't you know how terrifying it is to me, to see you hurt?
the forehead kiss is what finally gets him - it makes a lump rise in his throat, and lu bixing forces himself to swallow it, dropping his head to make it a little easier. ]
I don't.
[ the answer is confident, if a little wet, followed with a quiet - ] I could never.
[ even if lin is the most frustrating person on the planet. he just watched him die, again. he saw it this time, saw the life leave his eyes. even if it was a copy. he didn't even have enough time to process the other one, but now, it's practically on repeat in the back of his head.
lu bixing takes a deep breath, going to keep his hands out of the way and get lin out of the rest of his clothes. ] I love you. That's why. Go get in the shower.
[ soft, a murmur, determined to be heard. the words are from the depths of his chest, and while he'd say them in the dark of night between the both of them, fingers intertwined, but here in this moment. he opens. thanks effect of the week. his eyes are warm gray, the aftermath of a squall. ]
I love you too. Lu Bixing.
[ like something will sweep in and snatch the words and their sentiments right out of the air. he's frightened it will flutter away, the winds too strong. he stops thinking somewhere between his shirt and his trousers and when he's told to get in the shower, he has to truly pause a moment and then just presses a hand gently to lu bixing's shoulder, squeezing slowly. ]
Mmm... you don't outrank me, do you?
[ as if he cares. it's a joke. he will get in the shower then, standing under the provided spray carefully to start washing off blood, careful of his bandages... he is efficient, quiet, but sometimes there is a soft little grit of pain somewhere in there. you know how he is. ]
[ it feels so nice to hear lin say that. it's somewhere between warmth and relief, after the trauma of their experience, after nearly losing him again, in the excited fireworks of a phrase that he not only rarely gets to hear, but he's hearing again, after seventeen years of a half hologram and nothing.
he exhales. shaky. slow, watching lin jingheng move and stand under the shower. closing his eyes briefly - seeing the mental image, again, the second he does, the bullet and the --
no. he opens his eyes. there's quiet for a little bit, and lin jingheng is left to shower in peace, but not for long -- eventually, there's the soft sound of fabric hitting the ground, and a second later lu bixing steps in behind him, and just buries his face in the back of his shoulderblades and stays there, mumbling, almost a little petulantly: ]
I'm the prime minister. I can do what I want. [ this is so untrue on so many levels ]
[ lin jingheng closes his eyes as the water hits him. he lets it strike and counts as many drops as he can until he loses the number, because he's lost more than that. he's thinking, truly thinking, and all he remembers are the words leaving what looked to be his mouth, two bodies, each answering like two parts of the same whole.
but he hadn't felt there at all. out of body, floating, distant. he remembers that, fighting to the surface to touch electricity, to send out a message with a brush of his mind let me out let me out let me out.
when the curtain shivers and lu bixing steps in, he moves a bit, lets him have his space only to be given pause by the warmth between his shoulders. the soft curling of lu bixing's hair against the drops of water sliding down his back. he reaches (carefully) for a hand, taking it in his own to cup the knuckles, gazing into the palm like he could read it as easily as that old fortune teller could.
but he doesn't see anything. he doesn't see the line of his own disaster, doesn't see what he's brought lu bixing down to. instead. he thumbs softly, at the pin pricks on his forearms, smooths palms down. what have i done to you? he asks himself, now more than ever.
he lifts up one of lu bixing's hands carefully and presses the fingertips to his lips, not a kiss, just a quiet touch. ]
I'll allow it.
[ this is so untrue, but lin jingheng would move heaven and earth and break all of the rules if it meant lu bixing would smile. ]
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week 1, thursday
that's about how mad he is right now. once everyone else is gone and lin's been bandaged and treated, lu bixing herds him off to the shower that is now cleaned and locks the door. he points at the shower. ]
Strip, please. [ in like, the least sexy way possible. ] I know you won't ask for help even if you need it.
[ (but really, this is how he copes. he's learned how to cope, now. he's learned to look at his own emotions like a critical observer, and set them aside. that's what he's had to do.) ]
no subject
he allows himself to be herded to the shower, though the furrow in his brow hasn't left since he stepped off the ferry. as lu bixing decides to??? start ordering him around???? he lifts his head and basically holds his stupid shirt closed and stares at him for a long moment. ]
And your burns? What about those?
[ mrgh. emotions. he lifts a hand and starts unbuttoning his shirt (slowly), shrugging it off his good shoulder and then carefully starting to extricate it from his bandaged shoulder. it is about as slow as a wounded person gets, but lu bixing is right... he won't ask for help even if he needs it. ]
no subject
It's fine. [ because it is - just a surface burn, saved from any serious damage by his coat, but even still, he turns his arm to let lin jingheng see that it's nicely bandaged up, and steps past him to turn on the water. ] I'm not the person with two bullets in me -
[ ugh. there he goes, right as he turns around - so, so slow. it hurts lu bixing to watch him, makes his heart ache. makes him see - makes him see it, again, when he closes his eyes. the bullet. the blood.
he shakes it off and comes over, batting away lin jingheng's hands and starting to remove his shirt for him. lu bixing comes close, in his space, and starts working at the buttons, his own brow furrowed, trying not to bite his lip. ] You are so - I worried, so much, I thought, seventeen years would change you, and you are exactly the same.
[ there's a note of frustration in his voice, but it doesn't have any heat. ] I can't - I could hate you to death, the way you do this.
[ but he couldn't, of course. not for a second. ]
no subject
[ exit wounds. remember? all the same, he doesn't fight it, not when lu bixing moves towards him and begins to fuss his hands away. he lets his fingers fall to rest gently on lu bixing's forearm, to follow the slow motion of him as he removes each button.
eventually, they move, a hand sliding up to cup lu bixing's cheek gently. ]
I'm sorry, Bixing.
[ since when does jingheng apologize? fucking never. but lu bixing can make him kneel in a confessional in less than two seconds, saying penances because he cares. it's frightening. shutting his eyes. he's trying to remember the moment, the impact, but he was both there... and he wasn't. he felt further outside of his body than he'd ever been, than his time spent nearly brain dead, focusing on each dropped letter or apostrophe, cobbling together a lie to survive.
he blinks slowly and then just presses lips to his forehead. very softly. right there on the forehead. ]
You can hate me... [ fear.jpg ] I could understand.
no subject
but it's just a look, and, honestly, any of that frustration and anger comes out of him like a deflating balloon. his hands are trembling when he's undoing the buttons - it's, once again, probably good that he doesn't have his biochip, or else they'd be halfway across the room. as he looks up at lin jingheng properly, brows knitted together, cheek pressed into his hand, just trying to bore his emotions into him without his words. don't you know how terrifying it is to me, to see you hurt?
the forehead kiss is what finally gets him - it makes a lump rise in his throat, and lu bixing forces himself to swallow it, dropping his head to make it a little easier. ]
I don't.
[ the answer is confident, if a little wet, followed with a quiet - ] I could never.
[ even if lin is the most frustrating person on the planet. he just watched him die, again. he saw it this time, saw the life leave his eyes. even if it was a copy. he didn't even have enough time to process the other one, but now, it's practically on repeat in the back of his head.
lu bixing takes a deep breath, going to keep his hands out of the way and get lin out of the rest of his clothes. ] I love you. That's why. Go get in the shower.
no subject
I love you too. Lu Bixing.
[ like something will sweep in and snatch the words and their sentiments right out of the air. he's frightened it will flutter away, the winds too strong. he stops thinking somewhere between his shirt and his trousers and when he's told to get in the shower, he has to truly pause a moment and then just presses a hand gently to lu bixing's shoulder, squeezing slowly. ]
Mmm... you don't outrank me, do you?
[ as if he cares. it's a joke. he will get in the shower then, standing under the provided spray carefully to start washing off blood, careful of his bandages... he is efficient, quiet, but sometimes there is a soft little grit of pain somewhere in there. you know how he is. ]
no subject
he exhales. shaky. slow, watching lin jingheng move and stand under the shower. closing his eyes briefly - seeing the mental image, again, the second he does, the bullet and the --
no. he opens his eyes. there's quiet for a little bit, and lin jingheng is left to shower in peace, but not for long -- eventually, there's the soft sound of fabric hitting the ground, and a second later lu bixing steps in behind him, and just buries his face in the back of his shoulderblades and stays there, mumbling, almost a little petulantly: ]
I'm the prime minister. I can do what I want. [ this is so untrue on so many levels ]
no subject
but he hadn't felt there at all. out of body, floating, distant. he remembers that, fighting to the surface to touch electricity, to send out a message with a brush of his mind let me out let me out let me out.
when the curtain shivers and lu bixing steps in, he moves a bit, lets him have his space only to be given pause by the warmth between his shoulders. the soft curling of lu bixing's hair against the drops of water sliding down his back. he reaches (carefully) for a hand, taking it in his own to cup the knuckles, gazing into the palm like he could read it as easily as that old fortune teller could.
but he doesn't see anything. he doesn't see the line of his own disaster, doesn't see what he's brought lu bixing down to. instead. he thumbs softly, at the pin pricks on his forearms, smooths palms down. what have i done to you? he asks himself, now more than ever.
he lifts up one of lu bixing's hands carefully and presses the fingertips to his lips, not a kiss, just a quiet touch. ]
I'll allow it.
[ this is so untrue, but lin jingheng would move heaven and earth and break all of the rules if it meant lu bixing would smile. ]