the others probably didn't notice it, but of course, lin jingheng would. of course, lin jingheng would see the way that lu bixing's eyes widened when he read the note, and then the way he just - shut down. he's shut down, since, the light in his eyes almost vanished. the way he reached out and sent text messages to confirm with others that they were alright - four, persephone, lavi, kon, hana, the people he's become close to, the careful response of someone who has been through this, before. how he started to make a list of places to investigate on his phone. how he started to sort through potential gun owners - ryo, hana. lin with his harpoon, but it would've left a different mark and he doesn't even consider it. the simple matters of evidence. the who. the what. the why.
he's silent the entire time lin jingheng starts to manhandle him. he doesn't stumble or fight him off just allows it to happen, on complete and total autopilot. he doesn't allow himself to feel for a second. he can't. not again.
(not again. not captain turan's voice. we lost contact with Zhanlu... We lost contact with Monoeye Hawk.)
not again.
it's only when his chin is grabbed that he finally seems to snap out of wherever his mind was. lu bixing blinks, unfocused, and turns his gaze on lin. (lin, who is alive, who he just watched die this week, which he sees every time he closes his eyes.) ]
What?
[ is what he says, at first, truly - like he's coming back online. ] I'm not...
[ it's a useless protest, probably, but he has to hold onto the threads of his composure or they'll crack. ]
lu bixing has seen loss, lin jinigheng can see it in his eyes, hears it in his voice. he frowns his brow furrowed a moment. he tries to shunt the sternness from his expression, but it's difficult. jingheng has made himself a man of stone, a weapon when needed.
he does not to be any of those right now. that is not what lu bixing wants of him. ]
You and Eto Yoshimura.
[ the hand on his chin shifts, moves so that he can once again, hold this heavy head on shoulders that have no doubt had to hold up a galaxy in his departure. ]
[ really, the sternness is sort of familiar, if only because it makes him feel - well, seen. it's lin, being lin. it's a reminder that he's still here, that the visions of their little trip together are just nightmares in the way he's had nightmares about lin jingheng dying almost daily for the past seventeen years. it's a reminder that he's solid, when he reaches out to touch him, that lin jingheng's not just a hologram he laid beside to try and push away the pain. it's a little grounding.
... it's grounding, also, because he knows that lin won't let him squirm away. he wants to. you can see it in his face, desperately searching for an out. ]
I -
[ of course he does. lu bixing was incredibly fond of eto. found her curious and interesting, loved to pick her brain about books and knowledge and philosophy, about revolution and want. he doesn't really have that many friends, anymore. not in hell, and not even before, his relationship with turan fractured to pieces. and eto... eto was his friend.
his lower lip wobbles, the emotional effect of the week taking its toll, and he sucks it in with a breath. ]
...I just want to solve it. [ he says, quietly, but lin jingheng will know - that's his coping mechanism, to throw himself into it. to pretend it's fine. it's what he's done all along. it's that or something worse. he can't feel sad. he can't let himself. not again.
still, he presses a little into his hands - heavy. ]
[ what else can he say? that they're do their best? no. they will find out precisely who killed eto yoshimura. lin jingheng refuses to let that be a mystery that seeps into the depths of hell, he refuses to let her go fading away into the dark night when he wanted to learn so much more from her.
he sees the lip wobble, it's hard to miss because lu bixing has always had such an expressive face. to see him so steady-looking as the announcement came over their phones, the only thing being the tell-tale blink of a reaction that had flashed over lu bixing's eyes.
he finds lu bixing's hand and takes it in his own, holding it in his fingers, stroking the top with his thumb. ]
And if I find it's another joke... [ i will rip them in two :v ]
[ it is only because it's lin that there even is a wobble - he's gotten so good at controlling himself that it doesn't even matter, most days. he can't show anything to the people around him. can't for a minute let anyone see anything but the prime minister, the composed and confident lu bixing, the man who finished a revolution when the battle was won. especially not here, when so many pairs of eyes on him are young, looking to him for inspiration, for comfort, for reason.
but lin is different. with lin, it's messy and difficult to hold onto his composure, and he feels a little - almost scolded, when he holds onto it. like he shouldn't. like he needs to let go.
he looks down at their hands when lin takes his, and swallows. ]
...I finished her book. When we got back. [ lin probably would've seen it. when he fussed him off to rest, lu bixing came to sit with him and read by his bedside, desperate for the distraction from his thoughts. ] I...
[ his voice gets a little smaller. ] ... I was really looking forward to talking with her about it, today.
[ lu bixing is voracious in everything he loves to do. reading is but one of the many things that falls under that category. lin jingheng had been waiting, really, to hear about it, if only because who has the time to read a book when you're in hell unless you're lu bixing.
so instead he lets his hands shift to hold his arms. firm. a bridge. ]
I'm not the writer... but...
[ he looks down for a moment. ]
Will you tell me about it?
[ lin jingheng feels it in his chest, a slow blossoming warmth that he remembers every time that lu bixing and he are so close, stars allowed to collide, even here, beyond life. ]
[ yeah!! unfortunately, it's a coping mechanism!!! but that's fine. lin doesn't need to know that part.
he takes the way lin jingheng holds his arms and looks up at him, matching his eyes. he looks lost, now. lost, and tired, searching his face like it's going to hold an answer - a moment of clear vulnerability.
... and then, tiredly, he smiles. it's small, the soft duck of his head included, a huff of a laugh. his heart, despite everything, squeezes, exhausted and warm for lin jingheng. it means so much to him - to have him here, but to know his soft-hearted commander, to feel the way he loves him like a novelty after seventeen years. could he have programmed his hologram to do this? the clone, he almost made?
...no. no, he doesn't think so. ]
...yeah. Yeah, of course I will. It's about a revolution, Lin. It's really good. [ the last bit tapers off, a little wet. ]
[ he guides him slowly towards a bed, to sit down together, one and then the other. he doesn't stop looking at him until lu bixing looks away, ducks his head with a soft little laugh.
he reaches with his good arm to grab his stray jacket he's left here, drawing the dark blue up and over lu bixing's shoulders. ]
[ he laughs, a little, at that, because he can't really help it, and lets himself sink into the warmth of his jacket around his shoulders. it's familiar, it smells like whiskey and cigarettes, and he loses himself in it for a moment, shrugging into it a little further.
lin's been gone. the paradox of these two things occurring at once, the jacket and the reminder. he'll take the distraction of this conversation, because at least the hurt is more familiar. ]
It followed the course of what's been done. It's... things are so different now, Lin. I wish you could see it.
[ he rests his head against lu bixing's letting his eyes shut. his wounds ache a little bit, but they ache less as he maneuvers them to lean against a wall and just be. ]
I do too.
[ his fingers tighten gently in the fabric, holding lu bixing closer. ]
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no subject
the others probably didn't notice it, but of course, lin jingheng would. of course, lin jingheng would see the way that lu bixing's eyes widened when he read the note, and then the way he just - shut down. he's shut down, since, the light in his eyes almost vanished. the way he reached out and sent text messages to confirm with others that they were alright - four, persephone, lavi, kon, hana, the people he's become close to, the careful response of someone who has been through this, before. how he started to make a list of places to investigate on his phone. how he started to sort through potential gun owners - ryo, hana. lin with his harpoon, but it would've left a different mark and he doesn't even consider it. the simple matters of evidence. the who. the what. the why.
he's silent the entire time lin jingheng starts to manhandle him. he doesn't stumble or fight him off just allows it to happen, on complete and total autopilot. he doesn't allow himself to feel for a second. he can't. not again.
(not again. not captain turan's voice. we lost contact with Zhanlu... We lost contact with Monoeye Hawk.)
not again.
it's only when his chin is grabbed that he finally seems to snap out of wherever his mind was. lu bixing blinks, unfocused, and turns his gaze on lin. (lin, who is alive, who he just watched die this week, which he sees every time he closes his eyes.) ]
What?
[ is what he says, at first, truly - like he's coming back online. ] I'm not...
[ it's a useless protest, probably, but he has to hold onto the threads of his composure or they'll crack. ]
no subject
not again.
lu bixing has seen loss, lin jinigheng can see it in his eyes, hears it in his voice. he frowns his brow furrowed a moment. he tries to shunt the sternness from his expression, but it's difficult. jingheng has made himself a man of stone, a weapon when needed.
he does not to be any of those right now. that is not what lu bixing wants of him. ]
You and Eto Yoshimura.
[ the hand on his chin shifts, moves so that he can once again, hold this heavy head on shoulders that have no doubt had to hold up a galaxy in his departure. ]
I know.
no subject
... it's grounding, also, because he knows that lin won't let him squirm away. he wants to. you can see it in his face, desperately searching for an out. ]
I -
[ of course he does. lu bixing was incredibly fond of eto. found her curious and interesting, loved to pick her brain about books and knowledge and philosophy, about revolution and want. he doesn't really have that many friends, anymore. not in hell, and not even before, his relationship with turan fractured to pieces. and eto... eto was his friend.
his lower lip wobbles, the emotional effect of the week taking its toll, and he sucks it in with a breath. ]
...I just want to solve it. [ he says, quietly, but lin jingheng will know - that's his coping mechanism, to throw himself into it. to pretend it's fine. it's what he's done all along. it's that or something worse. he can't feel sad. he can't let himself. not again.
still, he presses a little into his hands - heavy. ]
no subject
[ what else can he say? that they're do their best? no. they will find out precisely who killed eto yoshimura. lin jingheng refuses to let that be a mystery that seeps into the depths of hell, he refuses to let her go fading away into the dark night when he wanted to learn so much more from her.
he sees the lip wobble, it's hard to miss because lu bixing has always had such an expressive face. to see him so steady-looking as the announcement came over their phones, the only thing being the tell-tale blink of a reaction that had flashed over lu bixing's eyes.
he finds lu bixing's hand and takes it in his own, holding it in his fingers, stroking the top with his thumb. ]
And if I find it's another joke... [ i will rip them in two :v ]
Bixing...
no subject
but lin is different. with lin, it's messy and difficult to hold onto his composure, and he feels a little - almost scolded, when he holds onto it. like he shouldn't. like he needs to let go.
he looks down at their hands when lin takes his, and swallows. ]
...I finished her book. When we got back. [ lin probably would've seen it. when he fussed him off to rest, lu bixing came to sit with him and read by his bedside, desperate for the distraction from his thoughts. ] I...
[ his voice gets a little smaller. ] ... I was really looking forward to talking with her about it, today.
no subject
[ lu bixing is voracious in everything he loves to do. reading is but one of the many things that falls under that category. lin jingheng had been waiting, really, to hear about it, if only because who has the time to read a book when you're in hell unless you're lu bixing.
so instead he lets his hands shift to hold his arms. firm. a bridge. ]
I'm not the writer... but...
[ he looks down for a moment. ]
Will you tell me about it?
[ lin jingheng feels it in his chest, a slow blossoming warmth that he remembers every time that lu bixing and he are so close, stars allowed to collide, even here, beyond life. ]
no subject
he takes the way lin jingheng holds his arms and looks up at him, matching his eyes. he looks lost, now. lost, and tired, searching his face like it's going to hold an answer - a moment of clear vulnerability.
... and then, tiredly, he smiles. it's small, the soft duck of his head included, a huff of a laugh. his heart, despite everything, squeezes, exhausted and warm for lin jingheng. it means so much to him - to have him here, but to know his soft-hearted commander, to feel the way he loves him like a novelty after seventeen years. could he have programmed his hologram to do this? the clone, he almost made?
...no. no, he doesn't think so. ]
...yeah. Yeah, of course I will. It's about a revolution, Lin. It's really good. [ the last bit tapers off, a little wet. ]
no subject
[ he guides him slowly towards a bed, to sit down together, one and then the other. he doesn't stop looking at him until lu bixing looks away, ducks his head with a soft little laugh.
he reaches with his good arm to grab his stray jacket he's left here, drawing the dark blue up and over lu bixing's shoulders. ]
no subject
[ he laughs, a little, at that, because he can't really help it, and lets himself sink into the warmth of his jacket around his shoulders. it's familiar, it smells like whiskey and cigarettes, and he loses himself in it for a moment, shrugging into it a little further.
lin's been gone. the paradox of these two things occurring at once, the jacket and the reminder. he'll take the distraction of this conversation, because at least the hurt is more familiar. ]
It followed the course of what's been done. It's... things are so different now, Lin. I wish you could see it.
no subject
[ he rests his head against lu bixing's letting his eyes shut. his wounds ache a little bit, but they ache less as he maneuvers them to lean against a wall and just be. ]
I do too.
[ his fingers tighten gently in the fabric, holding lu bixing closer. ]
... missed too much.