[ in a better mood, he'd make a joke. say something like "with you".
he doesn't have that right now, though. when lin hands him the cup, he has to juggle his hands a little bit, still attempting to hide the fact that he was definitely smoking, though not quite putting it out. he will take the cup, though.
... and when he sits close, he shifts, and eventually... drops his cheek on lin jingheng's shoulder and stays there. ]
I'm okay. [ i'm used to loss, he doesn't say. after i lost you, could anything be worse? ] Just a little tired. What about you?
I can smell, Bixing, I didn't lose my senses in all my time away. [ bitch stop hiding it, he can literally smell it this close, especially when he leans like that. ]
Keep being tired. Rest.
[ he will wrap an arm around his shoulder, drawing him a little closer. lean, lean. meanwhile, he takes a sip from his own cup, one ankle crossed over the other. ]
[ SNGDSKGSJFH NOOOO. busted. he's so busted. there's a flicker of something across his face that looks like guilt and shame - that same hairtrigger feeling of you must not love the person i've become before he guiltily lifts his hand.
the arm around his shoulder feels really nice. it's a reminder that lin's here, again. (not the nightmare in his brain, that he's relived for days, for seventeen years.) slowly, he starts to sag a little, melting into his side, and he holds up the blunt, finally. and remarks, tired: ]
This...is terrible. I looked for cigarettes, for you.
I looked for cigarettes for me. As though I'd be so lucky.
[ the arm around the shoulder is an anchor, intention. he's here for him, for the lu bixing that is here, having survived so long without him, having clawed his way through immensities that lin jingheng can feel in the slope of his shoulders.
lu bixing holds up the blunt and he sighs. ]
Thank you...
[ genuine. this addles the mind, he knows it. the smell is overpowering and he's leery about it, hovering a moment before leaning forward and just... taking the tip between his lips to draw in a pull from it. when he leans back, he readjusts, making sure he holds lu bixing securely against his side. softly, zhanlu sings for him. ]
Feels like a cruel joke... I know... [ he knows lu bixing. ]
[ oh. watching lin take a pull from the joint surprises him - it makes lu bixing want to babble, desperately, makes his heart sing and flutter with the same flipping, nervous butterflies it did seventeen years ago, makes him want to tell him everything all at once. did you know, i started smoking just because i wanted to feel closer to you? did you know, i experimented on myself with biochips, i used sleeping pills and relaxants and everything i could do so i could dream about a world that still had you in it? but he doesn't. the words don't come to his mouth.
for the better, probably. the weed makes his head floaty, floatier than he'd normally ever like, and it makes zhanlu's softly singing robotic voice sound like it's melting into the background. he feels heavy, lets himself stay that way, and just tucks into jingheng's side. ]
I don't know if there was anything I could have done. [ either way. for four. for eto. ]
[ lin jingheng adjusts the jacket around lu bixing's shoulder gently with a tug, turning inwards towards him to make certain that he feels safe here in the shadow of his shoulder. ]
As we are right now? Probably not.
[ if he's being honest, and he has to be honest here in this moment. the taste of whiskey lingers on his tongue for a while, in among the smoke that tastes so strangely green. he doesn't like it, but he doesn't hate it. it's just different, vibrant. readjusting to food like this is always a trial and error process. ]
Best you could have done was this... even if Four being our culprit was not something we desired.
[ world cold and hard lin jingheng...also kind of cold and hard....
actually he's just soft and tender and exactly what lu bixing needs. he finally takes another puff of the smoke since jingheng did, too, still a little jittery about it but needing to take the edge off just as badly. inhale, and exhale. ]
...I did. [ ... he turns his face a little bit. ] She's had a hard time. It doesn't excuse anything, but it's been hard. I don't know. I hope I helped her a little.
You do what you can. You live with what you can't.
[ and you learn from that. but he knows. he knows that if lu bixing had it his way, they wouldn't be in this situation at all. some would say it's the cruelty of fate or destiny or whatever the kids believe in these days, but jingheng will just say it's bullshit manufactured by someone else.
[ it's good advice - the words stick and resonate, especially because it's coming from lin. fate, cruelty, destiny. those are the things they've always dealt in, right?
he takes in a deep breath. inhale, exhale. ]
Sometimes. [ not always. ] I try to. That's all I can do.
[ the breathing is good. so he breathes with him, deeply, in and out. some bullshit about counts he remembers, zhanlu counting backwards in his head. he closes his eyes.
unspoken: i trust you.
his voice is soft, honest: ]
Some of them need that particular... warmth that you provide. [ meeting his eyes ]
But don't set yourself on fire.
You don't have to anymore.
[ a hand slipping down to where he knows there are trackmarks. he holds them gently, strokes with his thumb. i'm here. ]
[ i meant to backtag this forever ago because it was important so im coming back to it today
that is to say. when lin's hand touches his arm, for the first time lu bixing obviously flinches like he's going to move away. guilt rises up in his stomach, a gnarled pit of shame. he would hate you if he knew all the things you'd done. something says, in the back of his mind. he'd hate you.
lu bixing swallows. not set himself on fire, huh? ]
...yeah. [ he says, quietly, and doesn't specify. ] I know.
he holds faster to him, despite the flinching, because it's too late, because he has every intention of not letting go of him. his face remains unreadable save for the faint flicker in his eyes. he doesn't hate him. he could never bring himself to.
[ he definitely winces, this time, at that flicker - golden eyes drifting away from him, down to the ground, the muscle in his arm flexing and tensing.
... softly, again, though it's got a little more strength to it, lu bixing repeats himself. he's trying to summon it up, but its hard, in the face of everything. in the face of the way lin is looking at him, at how badly he wants to run away.
[ he reaches forward and takes his chin in his fingers, tilting his head up just a bit more. ]
One last time.
[ he believes him, but he knows that he will have to bolster it just as well, lingers closer, letting his other hand move so that he can hold his face in both hands. his thumb strokes slowly over his cheek, eyes soft. ]
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no subject
he doesn't have that right now, though. when lin hands him the cup, he has to juggle his hands a little bit, still attempting to hide the fact that he was definitely smoking, though not quite putting it out. he will take the cup, though.
... and when he sits close, he shifts, and eventually... drops his cheek on lin jingheng's shoulder and stays there. ]
I'm okay. [ i'm used to loss, he doesn't say. after i lost you, could anything be worse? ] Just a little tired. What about you?
no subject
Keep being tired. Rest.
[ he will wrap an arm around his shoulder, drawing him a little closer. lean, lean. meanwhile, he takes a sip from his own cup, one ankle crossed over the other. ]
no subject
the arm around his shoulder feels really nice. it's a reminder that lin's here, again. (not the nightmare in his brain, that he's relived for days, for seventeen years.) slowly, he starts to sag a little, melting into his side, and he holds up the blunt, finally. and remarks, tired: ]
This...is terrible. I looked for cigarettes, for you.
no subject
[ the arm around the shoulder is an anchor, intention. he's here for him, for the lu bixing that is here, having survived so long without him, having clawed his way through immensities that lin jingheng can feel in the slope of his shoulders.
lu bixing holds up the blunt and he sighs. ]
Thank you...
[ genuine. this addles the mind, he knows it. the smell is overpowering and he's leery about it, hovering a moment before leaning forward and just... taking the tip between his lips to draw in a pull from it. when he leans back, he readjusts, making sure he holds lu bixing securely against his side. softly, zhanlu sings for him. ]
Feels like a cruel joke... I know... [ he knows lu bixing. ]
no subject
for the better, probably. the weed makes his head floaty, floatier than he'd normally ever like, and it makes zhanlu's softly singing robotic voice sound like it's melting into the background. he feels heavy, lets himself stay that way, and just tucks into jingheng's side. ]
I don't know if there was anything I could have done. [ either way. for four. for eto. ]
no subject
As we are right now? Probably not.
[ if he's being honest, and he has to be honest here in this moment. the taste of whiskey lingers on his tongue for a while, in among the smoke that tastes so strangely green. he doesn't like it, but he doesn't hate it. it's just different, vibrant. readjusting to food like this is always a trial and error process. ]
Best you could have done was this... even if Four being our culprit was not something we desired.
[ a soft squeeze. ] You speak with her?
no subject
actually he's just soft and tender and exactly what lu bixing needs. he finally takes another puff of the smoke since jingheng did, too, still a little jittery about it but needing to take the edge off just as badly. inhale, and exhale. ]
...I did. [ ... he turns his face a little bit. ] She's had a hard time. It doesn't excuse anything, but it's been hard. I don't know. I hope I helped her a little.
no subject
[ and you learn from that. but he knows. he knows that if lu bixing had it his way, they wouldn't be in this situation at all. some would say it's the cruelty of fate or destiny or whatever the kids believe in these days, but jingheng will just say it's bullshit manufactured by someone else.
he doesn't move, remains still and steady. ]
I hope you did too.
... You understand them in ways most don't.
no subject
he takes in a deep breath. inhale, exhale. ]
Sometimes. [ not always. ] I try to. That's all I can do.
no subject
[ the breathing is good. so he breathes with him, deeply, in and out. some bullshit about counts he remembers, zhanlu counting backwards in his head. he closes his eyes.
unspoken: i trust you.
his voice is soft, honest: ]
Some of them need that particular... warmth that you provide. [ meeting his eyes ]
But don't set yourself on fire.
You don't have to anymore.
[ a hand slipping down to where he knows there are trackmarks. he holds them gently, strokes with his thumb. i'm here. ]
no subject
that is to say. when lin's hand touches his arm, for the first time lu bixing obviously flinches like he's going to move away. guilt rises up in his stomach, a gnarled pit of shame. he would hate you if he knew all the things you'd done. something says, in the back of his mind. he'd hate you.
lu bixing swallows. not set himself on fire, huh? ]
...yeah. [ he says, quietly, and doesn't specify. ] I know.
no subject
[ at all.
he holds faster to him, despite the flinching, because it's too late, because he has every intention of not letting go of him. his face remains unreadable save for the faint flicker in his eyes. he doesn't hate him. he could never bring himself to.
it's too late.]
Again.
no subject
... softly, again, though it's got a little more strength to it, lu bixing repeats himself. he's trying to summon it up, but its hard, in the face of everything. in the face of the way lin is looking at him, at how badly he wants to run away.
he tries, though. ] I know, Lin.
no subject
One last time.
[ he believes him, but he knows that he will have to bolster it just as well, lingers closer, letting his other hand move so that he can hold his face in both hands. his thumb strokes slowly over his cheek, eyes soft. ]
Okay?