[ 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. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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. ]