[ 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
[ 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.