[ god he's so tired. what an absolutely wild, insane day, with more questions than answers, with more puns than sense, and - at the very end, with a cruel comment that's sticking in the back of even lu bixing's craw.
he looks tired, but he's looked tired every day, and this is no different. still - he rubs his face, exhausted, and then turns to look at lin jingheng. the sight of him, with popcorn around his neck of all things, makes him smile.
he lets himself soak in the warmth of holding his hand in his own, quietly thankful, and takes that hand a little tighter, to pull it up and hold it tighter in his own. ]
A long, strange day with more questions than answers. [ a pause, and then, a little ruefully - ] ...I'm tired. I know you must be, too.
[ his soul is a shriveled raisin he is clinging onto the urge to just peace out and unfocus his eyes for like 10 minutes (jk)
slowly, he brings them closer this way, latched at the hands. lu bixing still fits exactly the way he should, more angles, but it's all the same to lin jingheng as he just lingers close, hovering. ]
We've learned a lot about the people trapped here with us today.
... lin holding his hand like that makes him feel a flicker of warmth, though, and he shifts to sit down next to him. once the space is offered, he moves into it like a leech, tucking in close to his side. ]
And the circumstances of the party, too.
[ ...
he's quiet, for a moment, after that. chewing the inside of his cheek. truthfully - truthfully, the idea of coming back to life makes something ache in his chest. lu bixing is terrified of dying; he always has been, he always will be. and he knows that the eighth needs him, and... if lin is alive, then...
he doesn't say any of that, though. he just takes the hand in his, and after a long moment, pulls it up to his mouth and leans his face against his knuckles. there's a brief pause before he does, like he has to make sure it's alright, before he settles into the spot, lips pressed to gloves. ]
[ they should have known, accounted for it, but it really feels so cartoon-villainy at the same time. jingheng's head pounds from the sheer pressure of the day, caught in a place where the dead still die, bleeding just like anyone else. ]
It'd be too easy to sit around and wait for a drinking contest.
We'll have to bleed for it too, supposedly.
[ he watches lu bixing's lips touch his glove and closes his eyes a moment, luxuriating in the nearness of the only person he wants to be closest to right now. ]
i don't want to die. i'm afraid. i want to live. the eighth galaxy needs me. i want to live.
but i don't want to live without you again.
lu bixing has lost lin jingheng so many times now. too many close calls that led to one final disaster, that turned out not to be so lost after all. they're both dead, but lin is right here, and lu bixing aches with it, and even worse, with the sheer, stomach flip-flopping terror of the thought that someone could try and take lin away from him, for something so stupid. he'd rather lose the stupid drinking contest - they could lose together - or he'd rather be dead, than have to face a world without lin jingheng one last time. this fever dream of his reality at the moment is something he has to cling onto like a thread.
the most recent of the track marks on his arm aches, a little. fall six times, and stand up seven. ]
...I think that it's probably true. It feels almost too generous - two thirds of our number would be allowed to go. [ he's worried about another catch. just like the old stories - you get what you get when you make a deal with the devil.
his hand tightens a little, holding onto lin jingheng. ] I think I need to get better at holding my drink. [ this is a little bit of a joke, and he turns his head to look at lin properly again, pressing his cheek to his knuckles and peering up at him. he's tired and lost and exhausted, but there's a little spark in his eyes. ] And... I guess, at watching my back.
[ just the little glimmer in his eyes alone makes jingheng's stomach do a little twisting motion, like he's sick but in a way he wants to be, too hot and cold all at once, glad his hands are in gloves still. he smooths his free hand down one of lu bixing's arms, shifting to drag fingers along that forearm, feeling for skin, palpating gently, carefully, over each of these tracks that appear like a story under his touch.
he holds fast as well, they tangle like kudzu vines. ]
Focus on improving your tolerance.
And I'll help you with both.
[ (closely. desperately. taking in each and every detail. ) it's a promise, once again, because what is a place worth if there is no lu bixing in it? whose star is the center of gravity to all, pulling everyone and everything into his orbit and his reach. lin jingheng is warmest here, under lu bixing's starlight, even in this uncertain time.
he leans in slightly, hovers, hesitates just a breath away. ]
[ lu bixing's pulse jumps. not because of the closeness, this time, but because of where lin's hand goes. so he was watching, when date was checking their arms.
it's guilt, is what it is. after all, many of those marks are old. it's been seventeen years since the disaster in the seventh galaxy. seventeen years since lu bixing lost everything he ever loved. his experiments are marked out on his own arm, places where he injected and failed and ripped it out and tried again, but so too are relaxants, are the occasional injection to force himself to sleep and dream because dreaming was his only solace. that was hell. here, where lu bixing is standing beside lin jingheng, solving stupid murders, having to drink with obnoxious demons, here is not hell. it might be purgatory, but it's not hell, and lu bixing's not ready to tell lin jingheng the depths of how depraved he was.
what if he can't love him, anymore? lu bixing can't be the man he used to be? the idea terrifies him, more than anything, more than any hell, more than any death. what if he's got lin back, and he loses him again?
he holds his breath for a moment when lin leans closer to him, and then - nods, once, twice. panicked, fluttery, like yes. i'll do that, i'll do anything, because the horrifying thought of someone could try to kill lin and he could die, again flickers across his already broken consciousness.
he has to take that promise for what it is, has to stop lin from asking too much about the track marks, has to live in the fact that he's right in front of him, and he leans forward to close the distance between them to clumsily steal a kiss. it lingers longer than the others had, tastes like exhaustion and a little like drink, from a long, stressful afternoon. he needs another drink. he needs lin jingheng. he needs a nap. he just needs a lot of things. ]
[ bixing is wound up and all of his cogs and pieces and parts are straining under the pressure. jingheng isn't a doctor, he observes, he is silent for a reason most of the time and does his work without a word. here and now, bixing stills a kiss and their teeth click and their lips don't outright meet, but what does jingheng care?
lu bixing kisses him and he allows it, opens up for him like a silent door. jingheng tastes like drink, sharp and lingering, and he allows him to steal a taste of it, like sharing secrets. his own hand wanders, pulling from lu bixing's in a strange way: as he carefully slides fingers from his glove, lets them push off against him palm to his wrist. slowly, slowly, like a serpent. ]
Rest, Bixing.
[ it isn't over. it's not going to be over by a long shot, but he will be the shade under the tree if it means that lu bixing's tired head, an inferno, a firestorm, can finally go under. something cool and soft to put it all out. when they part, he speaks in a whisper: ]
I can see the smoke coming out of your ears. Remember?
[ rest, he says. rest! just rest. that's what he should do. it feels like that's what he's always being told to do, nowadays. from prime minister edward before his death, from his four kids and the rest of the world, from the people who come closest to him. but he can't rest. he's never been able to. idle hands are the devil's playthings, and idle hands make lu bixing think. they make him do stupid things. they make him delve too deeply into a spiral of grief and misery. there are thousands of souls that he has to pilot forward, that he has to live on for, living and dead, and he can't allow himself to slow down for a second lest he doesn't do them right.
the touch of lin jingheng's bare skin against his is going to send him into cardiac arrest. it's not the first time or the last time, but something so little is making every endorphin in his body come flying back, every heartbeat worth of adrenaline that he studied twenty years ago as a natural reaction a reminder. rest, lin says.
like a child, he can't help it. he says - ] I don't want to. [ and steals another kiss, messy, a little desperate. scared of loss. ] I can't.
[ rest. resting is exactly the opposite of anything lu bixing would do. he didn't rest to wake jingheng up the first time. he didn't rest during any point between the cobbling together of a revolution. bixing steals a kiss again and it takes any kind of words from his mouth. lin jingheng has spent all of his words during trial, arguing here and there for pat downs.
he doesn't feel like thinking about it anymore. none of it. there are stars here, fake ones made of little pinpricks of light that shine downwards, catching in lu bixing's hair. his eyes close and he lets the time between another kiss linger for only a few seconds. ]
Okay.
[ his bare fingers trail down his wrist slowly, slipping them along his forearm slowly. there is no appraisal, no judgement, only learning bixing by sight alone. he strokes his pulse with his thumb, unafraid, callused but tracking the feeling of his heartbeat. ]
... Speak your mind, Bixing. Tell me. What can I do.
[ and so, here lies the problem. the problem is that lu bixing has too much to say. it's like there's been a dam holding back every single one of his lin jingheng related emotions for the past ten years, and now that the dam can finally come down, the escape valve for the water is too small. he wants to say everything, and the thought of it is so overwhelming that he doesn't know where to start. he wants to ask, too, the details of where he was, of why he never made it back, of how he survived, of everything. he wants to tell lin jingheng how much he loves him, how much he missed him, how - how impossible it felt to keep moving when he had to, how he had known he could lose him at any time but nothing could've prepared him for it, how angry he was at his recklessness (again, always), how he spent his years -
but he can't pick a place to start. he sucks in a breath, shaky, and goosebumps pebble underneath lin jingheng's thumb. the alcohol in his veins from the trial is working in ways it normally doesn't, his carefully self disciplined tolerance and sneaky ways around it lost to him with no access to the biochip lin jingheng doesn't know he now has, and it's making his mouth want to run, but he can't find the shamelessness he had once upon a time, either. what can i do, lin asks. the simple answer, the thing he wants - lu bixing can't even ask for it.
love me. tell me i'm not so broken beyond repair that i'm going to scare you away. ]
I - I. I. [ so he starts, and he stops, he starts, and he stops, trying again, over and over, and nothing. nothing's happening. it's overwhelming, its too much. how can he just speak his mind when it's a torrent?
he turns his hand a little suddenly, enough that when lin's hand comes to his pulse, he takes it, instead, and squeezes it. hard, probably a little too hard. like he's afraid any second now he'll disappear - even after a week, he is.
... but that's all he can do. he can't seem to tell him anything, the paralysis of indecision and emotion too much. your move, lin jingheng. ]
this was accounted for. lu bixing has a state where he becomes utterly incomprehensible, and while usually he excites himself into it on the sheer fact that he has way too many emotions bombarding him all at once—
this time he's trying to stifle it under his hands like a fire that refuses to gutter out. lin jingheng knows that he's making it worse, of course, knows that skinship is something that is treasured between them, and something he saves just for times they are alone.
the hand that takes his is strong, but trembling, clinging desperately and lin jingheng has to let out an unsteady breath as he draws up the stretch to look lu bixing in the eyes. his gaze is weary, but sharp. his words are precise and he takes his time finding the ones he wants to say. ]
What are you afraid of?
[ he tilts forward, leveraging himself on a knee now. if lu bixing is still holding his hand, he'll notice (maybe, he may also just keep dissociating) that lin jinging brings their hands down to rest right against his thigh. He continues, however, to engage in eye-contact. ]
I'm here. Don't you get it?
[ his fingers slip away, pressing down against his leg now. his arm slips up between them and he pushes bixing down so that the stars projected are in full view. ]
[ oh, god, there's a lot happening here. this is like being violently thrown back to a night what feels like centuries ago, the first time lu bixing ever got this close with lin jingheng. back in milky way city, where a confident lin jingheng practically scrambled his brains and then flipped it around and had him feeling like he might've just gotten a tiny glimpse of heaven.
this, right now, with lin jingheng looking at him with his clear, focused gray eyes, with his pulse warm against lu bixing's shaking fingers, with his hand pressing against his thigh - he's going to lose his mind. he lets lin move him backwards with absolutely no fussing or fighting, suddenly feeling incredibly sweaty and incredibly overwhelmed and incredibly in love all at once. god. god, there are no words.
what are you afraid of?
everything. terrified, that lin might not love him anymore. he's like an animal, at this point, a beast that's been kept in a cage and now with the door open, unable to step outside. their combined hands on his thigh feels like a brand, and he takes in a shuddery little breath. and when he finally raises his hand, shaking, he cups it to the back of lin jingheng's neck, the touch so, so gentle, and pulls - pulls him along to join him, pulls him down to kiss him, clumsy and too gentle and needy and wanting all at once. selfishly, selfishly, wanting. ]
stares mods directly in the eyes it's getting nsfw
[ the touch incites him, it's electrifying, sending a series of lights and signals, ripples, all down his spine as he pushes them both to the ground. the starts twinkle softly, glancing off of each immaculate hair on lu bixing's head. lin jingheng is speechless for a moment, due to his own actions and the view beneath him.
lu bixing is tentative, he is nervous, he is scared, so lin jingheng collides into him like a reminder of the meteor impact this humble teacher has had upon his life. it's bruising, teeth clicking, but this time, lin jingheng doesn't hesitate. his hand no longer flirts over lu bixing's shirt, but dips downwards, ungloved and resolute, to touch his belt and to wrap fingers around it. ]
Breathe.
[ he knows that lu bixing will forget. ]
It's less romantic if you pass out.
[ he starts to pull the clasp free slowly, and he can feel his heartbeat in his fingers and the heat growing at the tips of his ears, down his neck. what are you doing? the rigid thing inside of him pleads, while he turns his gray gaze to lu bixing. ]
[ right here in the planetarium. right here in public unbelievable
holy shit. that's really all that goes across his brain, a sort of static !! noise as he realizes what's happening, as every single cognition in his incredibly brilliant mind just shatters into absolute nothingness at the phrase do not take your eyes off of me. it's the victorian wonder of a bare hand wrapped around his belt. it's the joke, almost, it's the fact that he chokes on the inhale when lin jingheng reminds him that he needs to breathe. it's the way red leaks around the shell of lin's ears and he wants to bite it.
his throat makes a click noise when he swallows. it's a good thing lu bixing's biochip isn't working, because he might accidentally snap lin jingheng's neck. his fingertips do tighten, though, and he manages not to hyperventilate, and breathes out - ]
I won't.
[ except
he does, because he has to, because he pulls lin jingheng down and kisses him. this time, it's returning the favor - with the desperation of someone who needs it, who is terrified it's going to go away. his teeth nip into lin jingheng's lower lip, his tongue in his mouth, making a soft noise like a whine. this is going to happen right here in this planetarium and he does not care. ]
it's going to happen in the planetarium, and lin jingheng is satisfied with the sound that leaves lu bixing, like a balloon deflating, like pressure releasing. it's a start, skimmed stuff that's going to slough off easily. it's what's tarred itself onto lu bixing's heart that he wants to sink his fingers into. ]
Bixing...
[ soft, as soon as teeth bite into his lip. he wasn't expecting it, but he can't deny it. he swears out of the corner of his eye that he can see the swish swishing of lu bixing's imaginary tail. he will let his hand do what hands do best, wander, and that can be left up to the imagination, all the while, he kisses him.
and then he speaks: ]
Stop keeping your eyes shut because you're scared, you fool, I'm right here...
[ there's something about being called names during this that's actually really, really comforting. it's so affectionate and sweet that it has no heat to it, and he knows, he knows, it's metaphorical. the pressure releases, and lin jingheng's hand move on his body, and butts his head into his. gently, foreheads touching, letting out a little gasp. ]
I - Lin, I'm not. I'm - you, you know, I can't be him, the person I used to be. [ the words start to come out of his mouth in a wave, a tumbling mountain of desperation, the dam finally cracking as he holds onto lin jingheng's shirt, curling his fingers tight, as desperate as he feels. ] He's gone, and I can't - I don't know how to get him back. You can't love me like this, can you? Someone who needs you to worry about them all the time, or...
[ because he knows lin jingheng, he knows he's fussy, he knows that he hates being bothered, and he knows that he's been nothing but a bother since their first day back together. all lu bixing wants is to be normal with him again, to love him in a way that all the pieces fit together, but it's messy and terrible and he's forgotten the original outline of the puzzle, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't stop it. ]
[ he says it as he feels the fingers tightening in his shirt, skewing it crooked. lin jingheng presses their foreheads together fast and laughs, laughs in a kind way. ]
You talk so much.
[ while lu bixing may know lin jingheng, but after all of this? after everything? today he had to sit and watch someone die while another nearly joined him. his hands don't shake, and he stays steady, though lingers where he needs to, where his words stretch just the barest bit (only lu bixing knows, only he has gone so far as to hear it himself, fondness). ]
I've missed it... all of it...
[ he leans into every touch, refuses to let lu bixing flutter away from him fearfully. he presses his face into his, his shoulders into his hands. he leans them down and watches the way his eyes, so full of stars, can go dark with dilation in such a way that it makes lin jingheng's heart lodge itself into his throat. ]
[ lin jingheng's laugh is like bells. it's so rare, and to hear it here in this tiny, soft space between them is some kind of absolution - he wants to cry, wants to laugh too, but most of all feels this immense sense of frustration, because - because he's not right. he does talk so much. he talks too much, and none of it works.
he lets him press close, hiccups out a soft little noise as he lifts his arms, away from his shirt, up and around his shoulders. clinging, like a lost, terrified child, as he tries to let it all bubble free. he's missed it, he says. ]
But it's not - you, that person you miss, he's gone, I don't know how to be him anymore.
[ there's desperation, there. he's done so many things in the seventeen years he's been gone - bad things, cruel things, necessary things. he's done things to himself beyond that, locked himself into a year of isolation and misery and threw himself into saving the eighth galaxy, building it up brick by brick. he's torn up the shreds of the optimistic young man he used to be, and he's terrified by the fact htat lin jingheng will see that and set him aside. what if he stopped? what if, in those sixteen years, what if he loved someone else? what if he
his face crumples. it's the aftereffect of the alcohol that made him bold enough for this in the first place, and it affects him here too, as he claws at lin jingheng's back and clings to him and hiccups, brown eyes welling up with tears and starlight all the same. doesn't he get it? doesn't he realize? ] Lin, I don't - I can't...
[ he's babbling, really, now. teary eyed and desperate, trying to do the right thing and say the right thing, and never quite making his mark. ]
[ don't you want to know? don't you want to ask? ask me. go on. ask me if i loved anyone else in those sixteen years and you will know that there was no one else as bright as you.
the hiccup stirs him from his listening, the fingers clawing down his back. this is boldness and alcohol and mourning for the things that they have had to do. voting feels damning and cheap. lin jingheng knows that it's just adding to the pile of what has no doubt been on lu bixing's plate for several years. ]
I have missed you.
[ four simple words as he lets his lips carefully frame where a tear threatens to escape the corner of lu bixing's eye. ]
Don't you get it. You.
[ you don't have to be the same. years will erode away at a person like tides do to cliff faces. you will never be the same as you once were. lin jingheng watches the stars projected into lu bixing's eyes, his voice dying in his throat as he watches him try to define what lin surely fell in love with those years ago.
but he is still in love now. ]
Carved from the weight of a galaxy... your shoulders are so heavy now, Lu Bixing. You think I don't see it? [ he presses their foreheads painfully together. ] You think I am not willingly walking into this with you? Still?
[ softer, the words unearthed from years of staring upwards in his silence, wishing, wanting, waiting: ] I'm holding you like this... and you think that I would sooner discard such a bright star...
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no subject
he looks tired, but he's looked tired every day, and this is no different. still - he rubs his face, exhausted, and then turns to look at lin jingheng. the sight of him, with popcorn around his neck of all things, makes him smile.
he lets himself soak in the warmth of holding his hand in his own, quietly thankful, and takes that hand a little tighter, to pull it up and hold it tighter in his own. ]
A long, strange day with more questions than answers. [ a pause, and then, a little ruefully - ] ...I'm tired. I know you must be, too.
no subject
[ his soul is a shriveled raisin he is clinging onto the urge to just peace out and unfocus his eyes for like 10 minutes (jk)
slowly, he brings them closer this way, latched at the hands. lu bixing still fits exactly the way he should, more angles, but it's all the same to lin jingheng as he just lingers close, hovering. ]
We've learned a lot about the people trapped here with us today.
no subject
[ he says, tiredly, agreeing. firearm.
... lin holding his hand like that makes him feel a flicker of warmth, though, and he shifts to sit down next to him. once the space is offered, he moves into it like a leech, tucking in close to his side. ]
And the circumstances of the party, too.
[ ...
he's quiet, for a moment, after that. chewing the inside of his cheek. truthfully - truthfully, the idea of coming back to life makes something ache in his chest. lu bixing is terrified of dying; he always has been, he always will be. and he knows that the eighth needs him, and... if lin is alive, then...
he doesn't say any of that, though. he just takes the hand in his, and after a long moment, pulls it up to his mouth and leans his face against his knuckles. there's a brief pause before he does, like he has to make sure it's alright, before he settles into the spot, lips pressed to gloves. ]
What do you think?
no subject
[ they should have known, accounted for it, but it really feels so cartoon-villainy at the same time. jingheng's head pounds from the sheer pressure of the day, caught in a place where the dead still die, bleeding just like anyone else. ]
It'd be too easy to sit around and wait for a drinking contest.
We'll have to bleed for it too, supposedly.
[ he watches lu bixing's lips touch his glove and closes his eyes a moment, luxuriating in the nearness of the only person he wants to be closest to right now. ]
What do you think?
no subject
i don't want to die. i'm afraid. i want to live. the eighth galaxy needs me. i want to live.
but i don't want to live without you again.
lu bixing has lost lin jingheng so many times now. too many close calls that led to one final disaster, that turned out not to be so lost after all. they're both dead, but lin is right here, and lu bixing aches with it, and even worse, with the sheer, stomach flip-flopping terror of the thought that someone could try and take lin away from him, for something so stupid. he'd rather lose the stupid drinking contest - they could lose together - or he'd rather be dead, than have to face a world without lin jingheng one last time. this fever dream of his reality at the moment is something he has to cling onto like a thread.
the most recent of the track marks on his arm aches, a little. fall six times, and stand up seven. ]
...I think that it's probably true. It feels almost too generous - two thirds of our number would be allowed to go. [ he's worried about another catch. just like the old stories - you get what you get when you make a deal with the devil.
his hand tightens a little, holding onto lin jingheng. ] I think I need to get better at holding my drink. [ this is a little bit of a joke, and he turns his head to look at lin properly again, pressing his cheek to his knuckles and peering up at him. he's tired and lost and exhausted, but there's a little spark in his eyes. ] And... I guess, at watching my back.
no subject
he holds fast as well, they tangle like kudzu vines. ]
Focus on improving your tolerance.
And I'll help you with both.
[ (closely. desperately. taking in each and every detail. ) it's a promise, once again, because what is a place worth if there is no lu bixing in it? whose star is the center of gravity to all, pulling everyone and everything into his orbit and his reach. lin jingheng is warmest here, under lu bixing's starlight, even in this uncertain time.
he leans in slightly, hovers, hesitates just a breath away. ]
no subject
it's guilt, is what it is. after all, many of those marks are old. it's been seventeen years since the disaster in the seventh galaxy. seventeen years since lu bixing lost everything he ever loved. his experiments are marked out on his own arm, places where he injected and failed and ripped it out and tried again, but so too are relaxants, are the occasional injection to force himself to sleep and dream because dreaming was his only solace. that was hell. here, where lu bixing is standing beside lin jingheng, solving stupid murders, having to drink with obnoxious demons, here is not hell. it might be purgatory, but it's not hell, and lu bixing's not ready to tell lin jingheng the depths of how depraved he was.
what if he can't love him, anymore? lu bixing can't be the man he used to be? the idea terrifies him, more than anything, more than any hell, more than any death. what if he's got lin back, and he loses him again?
he holds his breath for a moment when lin leans closer to him, and then - nods, once, twice. panicked, fluttery, like yes. i'll do that, i'll do anything, because the horrifying thought of someone could try to kill lin and he could die, again flickers across his already broken consciousness.
he has to take that promise for what it is, has to stop lin from asking too much about the track marks, has to live in the fact that he's right in front of him, and he leans forward to close the distance between them to clumsily steal a kiss. it lingers longer than the others had, tastes like exhaustion and a little like drink, from a long, stressful afternoon. he needs another drink. he needs lin jingheng. he needs a nap. he just needs a lot of things. ]
no subject
lu bixing kisses him and he allows it, opens up for him like a silent door. jingheng tastes like drink, sharp and lingering, and he allows him to steal a taste of it, like sharing secrets. his own hand wanders, pulling from lu bixing's in a strange way: as he carefully slides fingers from his glove, lets them push off against him palm to his wrist. slowly, slowly, like a serpent. ]
Rest, Bixing.
[ it isn't over. it's not going to be over by a long shot, but he will be the shade under the tree if it means that lu bixing's tired head, an inferno, a firestorm, can finally go under. something cool and soft to put it all out. when they part, he speaks in a whisper: ]
I can see the smoke coming out of your ears. Remember?
no subject
the touch of lin jingheng's bare skin against his is going to send him into cardiac arrest. it's not the first time or the last time, but something so little is making every endorphin in his body come flying back, every heartbeat worth of adrenaline that he studied twenty years ago as a natural reaction a reminder. rest, lin says.
like a child, he can't help it. he says - ] I don't want to. [ and steals another kiss, messy, a little desperate. scared of loss. ] I can't.
no subject
he doesn't feel like thinking about it anymore. none of it. there are stars here, fake ones made of little pinpricks of light that shine downwards, catching in lu bixing's hair. his eyes close and he lets the time between another kiss linger for only a few seconds. ]
Okay.
[ his bare fingers trail down his wrist slowly, slipping them along his forearm slowly. there is no appraisal, no judgement, only learning bixing by sight alone. he strokes his pulse with his thumb, unafraid, callused but tracking the feeling of his heartbeat. ]
... Speak your mind, Bixing. Tell me. What can I do.
no subject
but he can't pick a place to start. he sucks in a breath, shaky, and goosebumps pebble underneath lin jingheng's thumb. the alcohol in his veins from the trial is working in ways it normally doesn't, his carefully self disciplined tolerance and sneaky ways around it lost to him with no access to the biochip lin jingheng doesn't know he now has, and it's making his mouth want to run, but he can't find the shamelessness he had once upon a time, either. what can i do, lin asks. the simple answer, the thing he wants - lu bixing can't even ask for it.
love me. tell me i'm not so broken beyond repair that i'm going to scare you away. ]
I - I. I. [ so he starts, and he stops, he starts, and he stops, trying again, over and over, and nothing. nothing's happening. it's overwhelming, its too much. how can he just speak his mind when it's a torrent?
he turns his hand a little suddenly, enough that when lin's hand comes to his pulse, he takes it, instead, and squeezes it. hard, probably a little too hard. like he's afraid any second now he'll disappear - even after a week, he is.
... but that's all he can do. he can't seem to tell him anything, the paralysis of indecision and emotion too much. your move, lin jingheng. ]
sweats.
this was accounted for. lu bixing has a state where he becomes utterly incomprehensible, and while usually he excites himself into it on the sheer fact that he has way too many emotions bombarding him all at once—
this time he's trying to stifle it under his hands like a fire that refuses to gutter out. lin jingheng knows that he's making it worse, of course, knows that skinship is something that is treasured between them, and something he saves just for times they are alone.
the hand that takes his is strong, but trembling, clinging desperately and lin jingheng has to let out an unsteady breath as he draws up the stretch to look lu bixing in the eyes. his gaze is weary, but sharp. his words are precise and he takes his time finding the ones he wants to say. ]
What are you afraid of?
[ he tilts forward, leveraging himself on a knee now. if lu bixing is still holding his hand, he'll notice (maybe, he may also just keep dissociating) that lin jinging brings their hands down to rest right against his thigh. He continues, however, to engage in eye-contact. ]
I'm here. Don't you get it?
[ his fingers slip away, pressing down against his leg now. his arm slips up between them and he pushes bixing down so that the stars projected are in full view. ]
I won't let you go...
sweats also
this, right now, with lin jingheng looking at him with his clear, focused gray eyes, with his pulse warm against lu bixing's shaking fingers, with his hand pressing against his thigh - he's going to lose his mind. he lets lin move him backwards with absolutely no fussing or fighting, suddenly feeling incredibly sweaty and incredibly overwhelmed and incredibly in love all at once. god. god, there are no words.
what are you afraid of?
everything. terrified, that lin might not love him anymore. he's like an animal, at this point, a beast that's been kept in a cage and now with the door open, unable to step outside. their combined hands on his thigh feels like a brand, and he takes in a shuddery little breath. and when he finally raises his hand, shaking, he cups it to the back of lin jingheng's neck, the touch so, so gentle, and pulls - pulls him along to join him, pulls him down to kiss him, clumsy and too gentle and needy and wanting all at once. selfishly, selfishly, wanting. ]
stares mods directly in the eyes it's getting nsfw
lu bixing is tentative, he is nervous, he is scared, so lin jingheng collides into him like a reminder of the meteor impact this humble teacher has had upon his life. it's bruising, teeth clicking, but this time, lin jingheng doesn't hesitate. his hand no longer flirts over lu bixing's shirt, but dips downwards, ungloved and resolute, to touch his belt and to wrap fingers around it. ]
Breathe.
[ he knows that lu bixing will forget. ]
It's less romantic if you pass out.
[ he starts to pull the clasp free slowly, and he can feel his heartbeat in his fingers and the heat growing at the tips of his ears, down his neck. what are you doing? the rigid thing inside of him pleads, while he turns his gray gaze to lu bixing. ]
Do not take your eyes off of me.
[ ever. ]
(zia voice) whore behavior
holy shit. that's really all that goes across his brain, a sort of static !! noise as he realizes what's happening, as every single cognition in his incredibly brilliant mind just shatters into absolute nothingness at the phrase do not take your eyes off of me. it's the victorian wonder of a bare hand wrapped around his belt. it's the joke, almost, it's the fact that he chokes on the inhale when lin jingheng reminds him that he needs to breathe. it's the way red leaks around the shell of lin's ears and he wants to bite it.
his throat makes a click noise when he swallows. it's a good thing lu bixing's biochip isn't working, because he might accidentally snap lin jingheng's neck. his fingertips do tighten, though, and he manages not to hyperventilate, and breathes out - ]
I won't.
[ except
he does, because he has to, because he pulls lin jingheng down and kisses him. this time, it's returning the favor - with the desperation of someone who needs it, who is terrified it's going to go away. his teeth nip into lin jingheng's lower lip, his tongue in his mouth, making a soft noise like a whine. this is going to happen right here in this planetarium and he does not care. ]
no subject
covers npc eyes.
it's going to happen in the planetarium, and lin jingheng is satisfied with the sound that leaves lu bixing, like a balloon deflating, like pressure releasing. it's a start, skimmed stuff that's going to slough off easily. it's what's tarred itself onto lu bixing's heart that he wants to sink his fingers into. ]
Bixing...
[ soft, as soon as teeth bite into his lip. he wasn't expecting it, but he can't deny it. he swears out of the corner of his eye that he can see the swish swishing of lu bixing's imaginary tail. he will let his hand do what hands do best, wander, and that can be left up to the imagination, all the while, he kisses him.
and then he speaks: ]
Stop keeping your eyes shut because you're scared, you fool, I'm right here...
no subject
I - Lin, I'm not. I'm - you, you know, I can't be him, the person I used to be. [ the words start to come out of his mouth in a wave, a tumbling mountain of desperation, the dam finally cracking as he holds onto lin jingheng's shirt, curling his fingers tight, as desperate as he feels. ] He's gone, and I can't - I don't know how to get him back. You can't love me like this, can you? Someone who needs you to worry about them all the time, or...
[ because he knows lin jingheng, he knows he's fussy, he knows that he hates being bothered, and he knows that he's been nothing but a bother since their first day back together. all lu bixing wants is to be normal with him again, to love him in a way that all the pieces fit together, but it's messy and terrible and he's forgotten the original outline of the puzzle, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't stop it. ]
no subject
[ he says it as he feels the fingers tightening in his shirt, skewing it crooked. lin jingheng presses their foreheads together fast and laughs, laughs in a kind way. ]
You talk so much.
[ while lu bixing may know lin jingheng, but after all of this? after everything? today he had to sit and watch someone die while another nearly joined him. his hands don't shake, and he stays steady, though lingers where he needs to, where his words stretch just the barest bit (only lu bixing knows, only he has gone so far as to hear it himself, fondness). ]
I've missed it... all of it...
[ he leans into every touch, refuses to let lu bixing flutter away from him fearfully. he presses his face into his, his shoulders into his hands. he leans them down and watches the way his eyes, so full of stars, can go dark with dilation in such a way that it makes lin jingheng's heart lodge itself into his throat. ]
no subject
he lets him press close, hiccups out a soft little noise as he lifts his arms, away from his shirt, up and around his shoulders. clinging, like a lost, terrified child, as he tries to let it all bubble free. he's missed it, he says. ]
But it's not - you, that person you miss, he's gone, I don't know how to be him anymore.
[ there's desperation, there. he's done so many things in the seventeen years he's been gone - bad things, cruel things, necessary things. he's done things to himself beyond that, locked himself into a year of isolation and misery and threw himself into saving the eighth galaxy, building it up brick by brick. he's torn up the shreds of the optimistic young man he used to be, and he's terrified by the fact htat lin jingheng will see that and set him aside. what if he stopped? what if, in those sixteen years, what if he loved someone else? what if he
his face crumples. it's the aftereffect of the alcohol that made him bold enough for this in the first place, and it affects him here too, as he claws at lin jingheng's back and clings to him and hiccups, brown eyes welling up with tears and starlight all the same. doesn't he get it? doesn't he realize? ] Lin, I don't - I can't...
[ he's babbling, really, now. teary eyed and desperate, trying to do the right thing and say the right thing, and never quite making his mark. ]
no subject
the hiccup stirs him from his listening, the fingers clawing down his back. this is boldness and alcohol and mourning for the things that they have had to do. voting feels damning and cheap. lin jingheng knows that it's just adding to the pile of what has no doubt been on lu bixing's plate for several years. ]
I have missed you.
[ four simple words as he lets his lips carefully frame where a tear threatens to escape the corner of lu bixing's eye. ]
Don't you get it. You.
[ you don't have to be the same. years will erode away at a person like tides do to cliff faces. you will never be the same as you once were. lin jingheng watches the stars projected into lu bixing's eyes, his voice dying in his throat as he watches him try to define what lin surely fell in love with those years ago.
but he is still in love now. ]
Carved from the weight of a galaxy... your shoulders are so heavy now, Lu Bixing. You think I don't see it? [ he presses their foreheads painfully together. ] You think I am not willingly walking into this with you? Still?
[ softer, the words unearthed from years of staring upwards in his silence, wishing, wanting, waiting: ] I'm holding you like this... and you think that I would sooner discard such a bright star...