[ lin jingheng thinks for a moment that he is still dreaming, drifting, pulling his consciousness back together slowly. but when teeth click against his own, he realizes just how flesh and blood under his fingers lu bixing is and holds faster to him like iron.
don't think about it, don't be afraid. he surges forward like he could consume the tremor behind his teeth. he bites down on his lip briefly like an animal. it's okay. i'm here. and then lets go.
his hand drifts up to curl into the fall of lu bixing's hair, his brow furrowed into concentration as he stays close, tethered without fear of floating away for just this moment. it passes, and he drifts back, eyes focused on him and only him.
of all the people who do not deserve this... lin jingheng feels the rage boiling behind his eyes, tight heat in his jaw as he nods. which he shouldn't because it makes him dizzy, and soon they're leaning against one another again, and jingheng can only try to hold less like a desperate drowning man and more like a solid pillar. ]
[ okay well he's crying now. he is definitely crying. no zhanlu to jam him with a sedative - tears well up in lu bixing's eyes, dripping down his cheeks like he's a ghibli character even after the bite. it just feels real, it's real, and it's lin, and that's all that matters, the sting of pain so bright that it reminds him why he's alive, like six carved marks on a desk, like the burn of a cigarette against his forearm.
who cares, if he's in hell? who cares, if he feels like he's going to shake apart? who cares if the last thing he did was nearly overdose on relaxant (again) and fire a missile and then jump right into a wormhole with the love of his life? the love of his life, who is here in front of him, and he manages a wet, miserable laugh, shaking his head against lin jingheng's. ]
The Heart of the Rose. [ he says. it was his stupid fault, really - he should've put on his oxygen mask. lu bixing hiccups, once, finally pulling back just enough to rub his still red eyes. ] I think I'm dreaming.
[ he obviously knows he's not. his hand stills against lin jingheng's pulse, and he presses almost insistently into the hand in his hair, like a puppy, nuzzling up into it because he can. ]
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don't think about it, don't be afraid. he surges forward like he could consume the tremor behind his teeth. he bites down on his lip briefly like an animal. it's okay. i'm here. and then lets go.
his hand drifts up to curl into the fall of lu bixing's hair, his brow furrowed into concentration as he stays close, tethered without fear of floating away for just this moment. it passes, and he drifts back, eyes focused on him and only him.
of all the people who do not deserve this... lin jingheng feels the rage boiling behind his eyes, tight heat in his jaw as he nods. which he shouldn't because it makes him dizzy, and soon they're leaning against one another again, and jingheng can only try to hold less like a desperate drowning man and more like a solid pillar. ]
You look like you're going to fall over.
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who cares, if he's in hell? who cares, if he feels like he's going to shake apart? who cares if the last thing he did was nearly overdose on relaxant (again) and fire a missile and then jump right into a wormhole with the love of his life? the love of his life, who is here in front of him, and he manages a wet, miserable laugh, shaking his head against lin jingheng's. ]
The Heart of the Rose. [ he says. it was his stupid fault, really - he should've put on his oxygen mask. lu bixing hiccups, once, finally pulling back just enough to rub his still red eyes. ] I think I'm dreaming.
[ he obviously knows he's not. his hand stills against lin jingheng's pulse, and he presses almost insistently into the hand in his hair, like a puppy, nuzzling up into it because he can. ]