[ therion's reaction to this is best described as akin to a feral animal. he is so focused on trying to get the goddamn bandages open and keeping his insides from bleeding out in this damned alleyway that he doesn't hear footsteps until they're close close close, until there's pink in his vision -- he startles, violently, and presses his back to the wall, immediately closing off, digging his hand into the spot he's holding together, spitting the bandage package in his mouth out because he has to to speak. ]
Fuck off.
[ it's practically snarled as therion clutches tighter at his stomach, heart hammering in his chest. fuck. fuck, how stupid was he to let someone sneak up on him - his gaze sweeps over the intruder, catches on the pharmacy uniform, and he makes a noise that's half of a scoff, half a sardonic not quite laugh. not only did he get followed, but someone saw him. sloppy. really off your game, here.
hopefully the violent response is enough to get him to back off, because he's not giving back his stupid medical supplies and he doesn't need help! ]
this is the reason he didn't get too close, and he didn't grab. he knows the instinct is to rip and tear at whatever it is that's trying to help, and he's happy to avoid that. jiaoqiu's ear flicks, and he sighs. but instead of leaving, he reaches to take the box of bandages. by force, this time, because sometimes, you have to get your hands dirty when treating feral animals. ]
I will not.
[ he eyes therion, and then: ]
You're bleeding far too much for these. Do you want to die?
[ what kind of -- "i will not"? this throws him off for a second in as much as he can be thrown off. therion blinks behind the curtain of his bangs, affronted, and then scowls even harder as the bandages are snatched away. it's lacking its usual heat, because it's taking every bit of his strength to stay as alert as he physically can, and he digs his fingers in where he's holding harder, enough that the fierce bite of pain forces him to stay conscious and consider what's being offered.
truthfully all he can do is glower, because he doesn't have enough strength to take it back, and he lets out a short, harsh breath through his teeth. bleeding too much is what he was afraid of. he just needed a quick job. that's it, just enough. he scowls at the stupid pharmacist, and spits - ]
Gonna charge me for stitches before you call the cops?
[ he's got no options here. with his supplies wrenched away and this guy being persistent, his escape route is up, and he knows in his heart that this guy is right. that he very well could die from this stupid injury with every second that passes by. ]
I'm going to slow the bleeding, and stitch the wound closed in my apartment, in a much cleaner space than an alleyway. It isn't far. You can make it, if you lean on me.
[ his tone is firm, but - not mean, not aggressive. he's a very soft spoken person in general, and just because he's assertive doesn't mean there's not a gentleness there. normally, he'd give choices, but he doesn't think this guy has a lot of room to make them, right now. he also thinks that if this guy stole bandages and stumbled out into an alleyway, he likely does not have the money for hospital bills, so really, jiaoqiu is doing him a favor? probably?
he's already kneeling down closer to bat therion's hands out of the way so that he can make sure that the bleeding stops. gauze and bandages are going to have to do until he can reach his actual first aid kit. ]
[ every single instinct therion has is screaming this is a trap. every single one. this guy's got an aura about him that feels suspicious - and who just offers someone help like that, out of the blue? especially a street rat that just stole from his store? it has to be a trap.
but he's right. therion's not stupid, and logically, he knows he probably can't shut this up on his own. he's too far from his place (if you can call it that) to get it done himself, and there's a brief pause as he stares at the guy, every bit that trapped animal desperately trying to find an exit and finding the only one he has is one he doesn't want to take.
as he smacks his hand out of the way, therion grunts - the blood smell worsens, as his hand comes free and jiaoqiu can see the extend of the damage, a nasty looking stab wound from somebody's knife. he makes a noise and throws his head back, gritting his teeth as he feels the immediate rush of wooziness and finally, finally: ]
I can walk by myself.
[ he doesn't need to lean on anyone for anything. probably. but that's the closest to acquiescing he's ever going to give, and he doesn't try to stop jiaoqiu's immediate work because ultimately, he's right. he doesn't want to die. ]
[ if there's relief in the way that his shoulders shift, he doesn't mention it.
it's easy to turn himself off, these days. all he has to do is focus, dip just a little further into nihility, and allow it to settle along his spine. it's easier when he thinks of the person he is working on as meat. as an ingredient in a larger, complex recipe. put them together, and you have something that isn't ruined. that still can do something for the world, even if that something is, eventually, to be eaten.
he's a practiced hand at this sort of thing, to the point of it almost being second nature. every single soldier he's stitched back together comes out in the way that he quickly, efficiently moves therion the way that he needs to. ]
Hold your clothing up.
[ jiaoqiu orders - both to give him something to focus on and because it's helpful. he very briefly disinfects the wound, presses the butterfly bandages to keep it shut, and wraps gauze tightly around therion's middle. somewhere in there he adds the numbing spray, because he's not a monster. this has to hurt, and really, he's a little impressed that therion is conscious.
the bandages are going to be soaked pretty fast, but he does his best. and then, after a moment: ]
All right. [ he wipes his forehead with his arm, and then peels off his gloves. those can go in the trash. ]
Up. If you can walk, try. If you can't, I will help you.
[ as to be expected, therion is very, very, very tense while this is happening. he does as he is told as begrudgingly as you can imagine, but it's hard to put up much of a fight when unfortunately, this is one thing between him and surviving his walk back to the shitty place he's squatting in. he lifts his torn sweatshirt out of the way, and... throughout the entire process, he doesn't even flinch.
his teeth are gritted together - behind his bangs, his bad eye is screwed shut, but otherwise he never takes his eyes off of jiaoqiu, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. therion's too guarded to let anything or anyone ever this close, and if he's in pain, he doesn't show it. it's not the first or the second or the third time someone's put a knife in him, literally or metaphorically, and at this point, being hurt is more second nature than otherwise.
up, says the foxian. you don't have to tell him twice. therion's bloodied hand braces backwards onto the wall behind him, and he pulls himself up to his feet. the bandages strain against holding his skin together, but they don't immediately break with the motion, and instinctively, he drops his arm back over the spot, curling it around his own waist protectively. despite the fact that he is severely injured, therion's spite is what fuels him, and the "if you can" is condescending in his professional and incorrect opinion, which means he manages to shoot jiaoqiu a glower.
if he can. fuck you! he takes a step forward. and then another, and then another - hunched over himself, but stubbornly continuing to walk forward. he doesn't actually know where he's going if he has to follow this guy - and in fact, he starts trying to go the wrong direction, maybe back towards his own place. he doesn't need any help now. he's got this. (he does not) ]
that's not unfamiliar either. jiaoqiu watches him start to walk, and briefly, he sees the silhouette of a woman dragging herself to stand, white fox ears soaked with blood - sees a man with his hood pulled low, pale and not making a sound no matter how badly it hurts. for that moment, jiaoqiu's heart squeezes, and instead of nothing, he feels sad. overwhelmingly, painfully sad. but just for a moment, and then it's gone, and there's that void again. he does not have room to feel this way about strangers. he barely has to room to feel anything at all.
but it is those little flashes of memories that makes him walk after therion, instead of letting him wander off alone. there's something in him that doesn't want to let this one go. maybe it's his healer instincts telling him that therion won't make it if he doesn't have help, or maybe it's just something else, something quieter that itches at his spine. it doesn't matter. he follows. ]
That isn't the right way.
[ he says, casually, pulling on his normal gloves. ]
The willow that sways is stronger than the oak that resists. [ ok ] Stubbornly walk in this direction, if you please.
[ he won't touch therion, but he does shift himself in front of the other man, like herding a sheep. off we go, to jiaoqiu's apartment thank you!! he's watching very closely, his gold eyes slits, but open. if therion looks like he's going to fall, jiaoqiu won't let him. ]
[ he really hates the idea!!! of being stuck at this guy's house!!!! a lot!!! but so far he has not proven himself to be completely ready to stab him in the back, and... even if it's an unknown location, he has ways to get out quickly once he's stitched up. and if he tries to attack him... even weakened, he can probably take the guy. or at least he can throw some metaphorical dirt in his eyes and run.
ugh. his thoughts drift around like this, hazy and paranoid. this is what it means to be therion. he decides to himself that he won't pick through the guy's stuff when he leaves, but it's not enough, and there's this feeling crawling down his back of discomfort and displeasure, of distrust. every kind gesture is a cruelty in disguise. nothing in this world comes for free.
when jiaoqiu steps in front of him, therion scowls at him, but once again, it is lacking all of his heat. he feels humiliatingly caught at the way he tries to herd him and he turns his head, turning his nose up at the gesture, but. the rest of him follows a second later. the motion is pointed, but the pain from turning directions lances through unfettered by adrenaline and therion stumbles, but does not allow himself to fall further than a misstep, ignoring the way his injury throbs when his stomach contracts.
also that saying is lame. that's what he'd like to say but instead he just spits blood on the ground to show his displeasure and begrudgingly walks the direction he is told to walk. ]
[ when he spits, jiaoqiu actually rolls his eyes. it's hard to see because of his whole situation but he does do it! there's a part of him that thinks it's a little funny, but he's ignoring that part.
in any case, they make their way. jiaoqiu doesn't help therion unless it looks like he'll pass out, and he doesn't speak. instead, they walk until they reach an apartment building that is maybe a five minute walk from the pharmacy. he ushers therion into an elevator, and heads up to the fourth floor, leads him down the hallway, and into... well, something kind of depressing? or maybe he's just minimalist.
jiaoqiu's apartment is a little thing. a big kitchen, and a very small living room, outfitted only with one chair and a bookcase. the kitchen at least is full of appliances on all the counters, an almost industrial fridge, and a collection of plates, pots and pans. there's a bathroom and bedroom connected to the living room, but even just a cursory look reveals that there's not much in those rooms either. the bare necessities. no decorations, really, no photos of loved ones. just a couple of potted plants, and not much else.
jiaoqiu isn't paying much attention to that, though. he bustles off to grab a couple of old towels, throws them out on the recliner, and makes therion sit. he'll start digging through his cabinets for his first aid kit. ]
Of all the times to need a couch... [ he grumbles. ] Don't pass out.
[ they are gonna fuck in this chair in another thread
anyway. a depressing apartment is fine!!! it's way better than the elevator, which he clearly hates - he keeps a distance from jiaoqiu and leans against the wall, the only minute way he's willing to show he's hurting but as close to the door as humanly possible so he can bolt back out - but he's slightly, slightly less skittish as they make it down the hallway. therion's breathing is getting shallower and shallower with every step that he takes, and by the time they reach the door, he staggers his way through on sheer spite alone.
he goes into the chair - collapses is probably a better word - without much more fuss beyond that. his tan skin looks pale, and he can feel the blood seeping through the front of his torn hoodie, the material wet and sticking to him as the butterfly bandages start to give way. it's only when jiaoqiu is digging through the cabinets and turned away that he finally shuts his eyes and drops his head back against the recliner's surface, breathing out harshly through his nose as he finds his switchblade in his other hand and just. holds onto it like a safety net, still folded, and makes a mental note of the nearest window, the nearest exit.
and..... he waits. sorry for bleeding all over your recliner. ]
when jiaoqiu comes back, he does have to take a second to gauge the switchblade. he doesn't try to take it away or even do much other than just go, yeah, okay. it's there, and he imagines that therion wouldn't have it out if he didn't intend on using it if necessary, so. he'll just make sure therion doesn't have reason to.
he crouches down next to his patient, and gets to work. thankfully, as a previous combat medic, he's got a pretty decent amount of real supplies, surgical grade. he has numbing spray, he has quality stitches, and a steady hand. it doesn't take him very long to pull on rubber gloves, clean the wound, and stitch it up. and, the whole time, jiaoqiu talks.
it's nothing important. he talks about nothing at all - describes how to make a perfect steamed bao bun, what kinds of mushrooms are safe to eat in the wild, how a certain popular composer put together a song from inspiration to the notes... silly things. just so therion has a voice to listen to, and not dead silence as he works.
sometimes, he asks therion to repeat what he just said, in order to make sure he's awake. but he'll work until the wound is closed, wrapped, and therion is... well, mostly out of danger. ]
[ though once again, he is tense the entire time, as jiaoqiu gets to work, therion doesn't flinch. there's the occasional sharp hiss of breath, but that's it - no other pain reaction.
(What kind of a collar n' cuff cries like that? Tough up if you wanna go with me.)
he is obedient to the point that he has to be. therion stays conscious - he doesn't even close his eyes, just focuses off at a point on that bare, bare bare wall and stares at it, talking while he's out of his body. repeating it back, eventually dully even quipping - ] Didn't ask for Dr. Wikipedia's bedside manner.
[ instead of repeating after him, because he can't keep his sassy mouth shut because what else is new. but he's alert the entire time, and as the final stitch is closed and the bandages are wrapped, he holds perfectly still. under his hoodie and now that the stab wound is stitched and out of danger, jiaoqiu might notice that therion is thin. all wiry muscle, not an ounce of fat on his body - his ribs are just visible, the signs of a life of malnutrition - and there are scars pockmarked over his body, some the same size as the one just left behind, others smaller. bony hips, tiny body under that too big sweatshirt that's now going to have to be thrown into the garbage.
he's silent as he finishes, gaze finally shifting over to stare at jiaoqiu for a moment as he decides what to do. now what. ]
jiaoqiu is very good at keeping emotions off his face, and that is no different here. his typical placid look is in place the whole time, even when therion sasses him. he ignores it, save for the little flick on the forehead he gives therion right after. as he stitches, his thoughts go to strays - to abandoned cats huddled under dumpsters, hissing and spitting at the humans who have done nothing but kicked and slapped at them. desperate for food, for safety, stability. this isn't the first time he's seen someone like this, but it is the first time in a long time that he has reached out a hand to help.
it might not matter. maybe in a week he'll come to work and see this man's face on the news, found dead in a ditch. everybody dies. everybody heals and stands back up and puts themselves right back into the grinder, and there's nothing he can do to stop it. why did he help, this time?
he's not sure. ]
Shush.
[ his ear flicks. ]
You owe me nothing. Rest. Drink water, stay here for a night, and do not escape out the window.
[ he peels the gloves from his hands, and goes to wash them. ]
[ therion settles with his hand on his stomach, spread over the spot where he was stitched, protective as armor, protective as anything, and just watches him like he's deciding, cagey.
this kind of thing never sits right with him. that is not how the world works. he stole from the pharmacy, he got caught, and what, he got rewarded for it? bullshit. absolutely bullshit. therion doesn't owe debts. the idea that anyone can shackle him to anything, can hold anything over his head, gives him hives.
there are lots of ways to repay someone for something. some are money. some are favors. some... well. maybe not now. it would mean seeing this person more than once, but it would get him off of his back.
therion's pondering that as jiaoqiu reads his intentions correctly - that was exactly what he wanted to do, hop right out that window - and therion's brows furrow hard. he works his jaw once, twice. ]
...I'm not sleeping here.
[ it's... kind of an agreement? but sleeping in a stranger's home is a non-starter. ]
If you try to move with those stitches, you are going to ensure that you know nothing from now on.
[ a violent ear flick. ]
If you undo all my work in a night, what is the point of anything? I need to keep my eye on you so that you do not develop a fever, or worse. You don't need to know me to know that.
[ HELP the way this sounds like a threat. honestly that's speaking his language ]
I'm not an idiot or your charity case.
[ he literally just saved your life but okay!!! ]
For that matter, you don't even know who I am. You really want to keep me here?
[ his voice lowers a little on the last phrase. he still has that switchblade in his hand, after all. it's a threat - but it's not, not really. all bark. no bite. but if he scares him off, maybe he can go. ]
[ he comes around the corner after a moment, and then makes his way over to the chair. he stands, arms folded, and stares down at therion with narrow gold eyes. he can hear the threat, he can see the switchblade, so: ]
Go ahead.
[ follow through on that thinly veiled threat! stab him, that's fine. he's not scared of therion or death, and he really just does not think that therion will actually do it. ]
anyway. he stares, for a long moment - eye to eye, unflinching, the switchblade still in hand. but the thing is, it's still folded. it's been folded the whole time. it's more of a security blanket than it is anything actually threatening.
for a moment, there's just tense silence - and then he scoffs, rolls his eyes, and - ]
I'll leave when I'm ready.
[ so. yeah. he's not going to stab him! he was never going to stab him because he's a big baby. but he does get up from the recliner, and strips out of his bloodied, awful sweatshirt to go shove it in the nearest trashcan. no shirt underneath - just scars and tight muscle and the stark white of fresh bandages, now, the same as the front.
he is tired, is the thing. he's exhausted. he hasn't rested, really rested, in... years? probably in years. definitely not since he crawled out from where he was thrown - never once has he had the chance not to look over his shoulder. the moment he gets complacent is the moment he's dead.
eventually, from over his shoulder: ] You got a death wish, medicine man?
[ help therion please fair though like, jiaoqiu too
there's a huff from him, when therion rolls his eyes. it's a little amused, but it's also just sort of tired. his shoulders ease up just a little bit when therion pulls himself to stand. good. not an agreement, but not rushing to leave, either, so... jiaoqiu turns to go back to the kitchen to give him a little bit of privacy. if he's a little disappointed he didn't get stabbed, it doesn't last very long. exciting, though, to test the limits.
the question gives him pause. ]
I don't have any wishes at all.
[ he answers finally, easy and soft. he glances out to where therion is standing - his eyes sweep over therion's form once, taking in the scars, the wiry muscle. ]
There's plenty of food in the refrigerator, if you find yourself hungry at any point. Take as much as you'd like. I make far too much for one person, as it is.
[ as he shoves the sweatshirt down into the trash, i don't have any wishes gives therion pause.
there's something about the way jiaoqiu says that that feels... familiar? or at least, it resonates, in ways that are almost discordant. for starters, it's a kindhearted thing to say, that you have no wishes, that you don't want anything. it's the opposite of therion in some ways, the opposite of a thief and a parasite, a selfish creature that takes and takes, but in others it's a match. because there's an emptiness behind that phrase that he can only just sniff out, one that he knows too, how you can take and take and take and it does nothing for you. emptiness is normal. the hunger never quite fades.
he can sense he's being looked at; therion looks over his shoulder and meets his eye when it sweeps back up, raising an eyebrow, though the intensity of his stare doesn't quite match the nonchalant motion, as if he's just being checked out like a piece of meat.
huh.
as for the food bit. therion doesn't give that a verbal response - honestly, he probably would have raided the fridge anyway, but he's not doing it while jiaoqiu is right here. he just waves his hand, and leans against the trash can, folding his arms across his chest. it pulls a little on his stitches, but it doesn't really hurt, so. ]
Something's really wrong with you. [ wow. it doesn't sound like he thinks it's a bad thing or - it's at least just an observation. something is wrong with this dude. ]
[ that gets him to laugh! it's just a little huffy sort of sound, and he covers his mouth with his hand when he does, like therion surprised it out of him. ]
What a decidedly rude thing to say to someone who just saved your life.
[ but he doesn't sound offended like, at all. his tail swishes a bit behind him, and then he scoots past therion to go to the chair. he'll collect the towels that he laid down so that he can wash them, which. will be fun, he thinks as he looks over the bloodstains. he doesn't have a washing machine, so he's really going to have to take these to the public laundry and wash them... oh well.
he glances over at therion, with that same smile he always has. ]
I'm curious to know what makes you say that.
[ he ain't arguing, there's so much wrong with him, but y'know. ]
[ he just kind of raises an eyebrow to the first bit like yeah? and? doesn't seem like it bothers you, pinky! much like everything else!! he remains where he is, arms folded, watching him putter around.
and why would he say that? well. jiaoqiu telling him to stab him sure is a start, but there's stuff beyond that, too. there's the nihilistic lack of wishes, there's that smile that's just this side of unnerving. it's therion's turn to look him up and down, from tip to toe, assessing, ears to tail. he's done his fair business with foxians and thirens and all of the above, but none of them quite like... this guy.
with all that silence, you'd think he might be offering an actual answer, thinking over jiaoqiu's curiosity, and he tilts his chin up, but what comes out of therion's mouth is instead: ] You planning on sleeping tonight?
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no subject
Fuck off.
[ it's practically snarled as therion clutches tighter at his stomach, heart hammering in his chest. fuck. fuck, how stupid was he to let someone sneak up on him - his gaze sweeps over the intruder, catches on the pharmacy uniform, and he makes a noise that's half of a scoff, half a sardonic not quite laugh. not only did he get followed, but someone saw him. sloppy. really off your game, here.
hopefully the violent response is enough to get him to back off, because he's not giving back his stupid medical supplies and he doesn't need help! ]
no subject
this is the reason he didn't get too close, and he didn't grab. he knows the instinct is to rip and tear at whatever it is that's trying to help, and he's happy to avoid that. jiaoqiu's ear flicks, and he sighs. but instead of leaving, he reaches to take the box of bandages. by force, this time, because sometimes, you have to get your hands dirty when treating feral animals. ]
I will not.
[ he eyes therion, and then: ]
You're bleeding far too much for these. Do you want to die?
no subject
truthfully all he can do is glower, because he doesn't have enough strength to take it back, and he lets out a short, harsh breath through his teeth. bleeding too much is what he was afraid of. he just needed a quick job. that's it, just enough. he scowls at the stupid pharmacist, and spits - ]
Gonna charge me for stitches before you call the cops?
[ he's got no options here. with his supplies wrenched away and this guy being persistent, his escape route is up, and he knows in his heart that this guy is right. that he very well could die from this stupid injury with every second that passes by. ]
no subject
[ he says, simply. ]
I'm going to slow the bleeding, and stitch the wound closed in my apartment, in a much cleaner space than an alleyway. It isn't far. You can make it, if you lean on me.
[ his tone is firm, but - not mean, not aggressive. he's a very soft spoken person in general, and just because he's assertive doesn't mean there's not a gentleness there. normally, he'd give choices, but he doesn't think this guy has a lot of room to make them, right now. he also thinks that if this guy stole bandages and stumbled out into an alleyway, he likely does not have the money for hospital bills, so really, jiaoqiu is doing him a favor? probably?
he's already kneeling down closer to bat therion's hands out of the way so that he can make sure that the bleeding stops. gauze and bandages are going to have to do until he can reach his actual first aid kit. ]
no subject
but he's right. therion's not stupid, and logically, he knows he probably can't shut this up on his own. he's too far from his place (if you can call it that) to get it done himself, and there's a brief pause as he stares at the guy, every bit that trapped animal desperately trying to find an exit and finding the only one he has is one he doesn't want to take.
as he smacks his hand out of the way, therion grunts - the blood smell worsens, as his hand comes free and jiaoqiu can see the extend of the damage, a nasty looking stab wound from somebody's knife. he makes a noise and throws his head back, gritting his teeth as he feels the immediate rush of wooziness and finally, finally: ]
I can walk by myself.
[ he doesn't need to lean on anyone for anything. probably. but that's the closest to acquiescing he's ever going to give, and he doesn't try to stop jiaoqiu's immediate work because ultimately, he's right. he doesn't want to die. ]
no subject
it's easy to turn himself off, these days. all he has to do is focus, dip just a little further into nihility, and allow it to settle along his spine. it's easier when he thinks of the person he is working on as meat. as an ingredient in a larger, complex recipe. put them together, and you have something that isn't ruined. that still can do something for the world, even if that something is, eventually, to be eaten.
he's a practiced hand at this sort of thing, to the point of it almost being second nature. every single soldier he's stitched back together comes out in the way that he quickly, efficiently moves therion the way that he needs to. ]
Hold your clothing up.
[ jiaoqiu orders - both to give him something to focus on and because it's helpful. he very briefly disinfects the wound, presses the butterfly bandages to keep it shut, and wraps gauze tightly around therion's middle. somewhere in there he adds the numbing spray, because he's not a monster. this has to hurt, and really, he's a little impressed that therion is conscious.
the bandages are going to be soaked pretty fast, but he does his best. and then, after a moment: ]
All right. [ he wipes his forehead with his arm, and then peels off his gloves. those can go in the trash. ]
Up. If you can walk, try. If you can't, I will help you.
no subject
his teeth are gritted together - behind his bangs, his bad eye is screwed shut, but otherwise he never takes his eyes off of jiaoqiu, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. therion's too guarded to let anything or anyone ever this close, and if he's in pain, he doesn't show it. it's not the first or the second or the third time someone's put a knife in him, literally or metaphorically, and at this point, being hurt is more second nature than otherwise.
up, says the foxian. you don't have to tell him twice. therion's bloodied hand braces backwards onto the wall behind him, and he pulls himself up to his feet. the bandages strain against holding his skin together, but they don't immediately break with the motion, and instinctively, he drops his arm back over the spot, curling it around his own waist protectively. despite the fact that he is severely injured, therion's spite is what fuels him, and the "if you can" is condescending in his professional and incorrect opinion, which means he manages to shoot jiaoqiu a glower.
if he can. fuck you! he takes a step forward. and then another, and then another - hunched over himself, but stubbornly continuing to walk forward. he doesn't actually know where he's going if he has to follow this guy - and in fact, he starts trying to go the wrong direction, maybe back towards his own place. he doesn't need any help now. he's got this. (he does not) ]
no subject
that's not unfamiliar either. jiaoqiu watches him start to walk, and briefly, he sees the silhouette of a woman dragging herself to stand, white fox ears soaked with blood - sees a man with his hood pulled low, pale and not making a sound no matter how badly it hurts. for that moment, jiaoqiu's heart squeezes, and instead of nothing, he feels sad. overwhelmingly, painfully sad. but just for a moment, and then it's gone, and there's that void again. he does not have room to feel this way about strangers. he barely has to room to feel anything at all.
but it is those little flashes of memories that makes him walk after therion, instead of letting him wander off alone. there's something in him that doesn't want to let this one go. maybe it's his healer instincts telling him that therion won't make it if he doesn't have help, or maybe it's just something else, something quieter that itches at his spine. it doesn't matter. he follows. ]
That isn't the right way.
[ he says, casually, pulling on his normal gloves. ]
The willow that sways is stronger than the oak that resists. [ ok ] Stubbornly walk in this direction, if you please.
[ he won't touch therion, but he does shift himself in front of the other man, like herding a sheep. off we go, to jiaoqiu's apartment thank you!! he's watching very closely, his gold eyes slits, but open. if therion looks like he's going to fall, jiaoqiu won't let him. ]
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ugh. his thoughts drift around like this, hazy and paranoid. this is what it means to be therion. he decides to himself that he won't pick through the guy's stuff when he leaves, but it's not enough, and there's this feeling crawling down his back of discomfort and displeasure, of distrust. every kind gesture is a cruelty in disguise. nothing in this world comes for free.
when jiaoqiu steps in front of him, therion scowls at him, but once again, it is lacking all of his heat. he feels humiliatingly caught at the way he tries to herd him and he turns his head, turning his nose up at the gesture, but. the rest of him follows a second later. the motion is pointed, but the pain from turning directions lances through unfettered by adrenaline and therion stumbles, but does not allow himself to fall further than a misstep, ignoring the way his injury throbs when his stomach contracts.
also that saying is lame. that's what he'd like to say but instead he just spits blood on the ground to show his displeasure and begrudgingly walks the direction he is told to walk. ]
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in any case, they make their way. jiaoqiu doesn't help therion unless it looks like he'll pass out, and he doesn't speak. instead, they walk until they reach an apartment building that is maybe a five minute walk from the pharmacy. he ushers therion into an elevator, and heads up to the fourth floor, leads him down the hallway, and into... well, something kind of depressing? or maybe he's just minimalist.
jiaoqiu's apartment is a little thing. a big kitchen, and a very small living room, outfitted only with one chair and a bookcase. the kitchen at least is full of appliances on all the counters, an almost industrial fridge, and a collection of plates, pots and pans. there's a bathroom and bedroom connected to the living room, but even just a cursory look reveals that there's not much in those rooms either. the bare necessities. no decorations, really, no photos of loved ones. just a couple of potted plants, and not much else.
jiaoqiu isn't paying much attention to that, though. he bustles off to grab a couple of old towels, throws them out on the recliner, and makes therion sit. he'll start digging through his cabinets for his first aid kit. ]
Of all the times to need a couch... [ he grumbles. ] Don't pass out.
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anyway. a depressing apartment is fine!!! it's way better than the elevator, which he clearly hates - he keeps a distance from jiaoqiu and leans against the wall, the only minute way he's willing to show he's hurting but as close to the door as humanly possible so he can bolt back out - but he's slightly, slightly less skittish as they make it down the hallway. therion's breathing is getting shallower and shallower with every step that he takes, and by the time they reach the door, he staggers his way through on sheer spite alone.
he goes into the chair - collapses is probably a better word - without much more fuss beyond that. his tan skin looks pale, and he can feel the blood seeping through the front of his torn hoodie, the material wet and sticking to him as the butterfly bandages start to give way. it's only when jiaoqiu is digging through the cabinets and turned away that he finally shuts his eyes and drops his head back against the recliner's surface, breathing out harshly through his nose as he finds his switchblade in his other hand and just. holds onto it like a safety net, still folded, and makes a mental note of the nearest window, the nearest exit.
and..... he waits. sorry for bleeding all over your recliner. ]
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when jiaoqiu comes back, he does have to take a second to gauge the switchblade. he doesn't try to take it away or even do much other than just go, yeah, okay. it's there, and he imagines that therion wouldn't have it out if he didn't intend on using it if necessary, so. he'll just make sure therion doesn't have reason to.
he crouches down next to his patient, and gets to work. thankfully, as a previous combat medic, he's got a pretty decent amount of real supplies, surgical grade. he has numbing spray, he has quality stitches, and a steady hand. it doesn't take him very long to pull on rubber gloves, clean the wound, and stitch it up. and, the whole time, jiaoqiu talks.
it's nothing important. he talks about nothing at all - describes how to make a perfect steamed bao bun, what kinds of mushrooms are safe to eat in the wild, how a certain popular composer put together a song from inspiration to the notes... silly things. just so therion has a voice to listen to, and not dead silence as he works.
sometimes, he asks therion to repeat what he just said, in order to make sure he's awake. but he'll work until the wound is closed, wrapped, and therion is... well, mostly out of danger. ]
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(What kind of a collar n' cuff cries like that? Tough up if you wanna go with me.)
he is obedient to the point that he has to be. therion stays conscious - he doesn't even close his eyes, just focuses off at a point on that bare, bare bare wall and stares at it, talking while he's out of his body. repeating it back, eventually dully even quipping - ] Didn't ask for Dr. Wikipedia's bedside manner.
[ instead of repeating after him, because he can't keep his sassy mouth shut because what else is new. but he's alert the entire time, and as the final stitch is closed and the bandages are wrapped, he holds perfectly still. under his hoodie and now that the stab wound is stitched and out of danger, jiaoqiu might notice that therion is thin. all wiry muscle, not an ounce of fat on his body - his ribs are just visible, the signs of a life of malnutrition - and there are scars pockmarked over his body, some the same size as the one just left behind, others smaller. bony hips, tiny body under that too big sweatshirt that's now going to have to be thrown into the garbage.
he's silent as he finishes, gaze finally shifting over to stare at jiaoqiu for a moment as he decides what to do. now what. ]
How much.
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jiaoqiu is very good at keeping emotions off his face, and that is no different here. his typical placid look is in place the whole time, even when therion sasses him. he ignores it, save for the little flick on the forehead he gives therion right after. as he stitches, his thoughts go to strays - to abandoned cats huddled under dumpsters, hissing and spitting at the humans who have done nothing but kicked and slapped at them. desperate for food, for safety, stability. this isn't the first time he's seen someone like this, but it is the first time in a long time that he has reached out a hand to help.
it might not matter. maybe in a week he'll come to work and see this man's face on the news, found dead in a ditch. everybody dies. everybody heals and stands back up and puts themselves right back into the grinder, and there's nothing he can do to stop it. why did he help, this time?
he's not sure. ]
Shush.
[ his ear flicks. ]
You owe me nothing. Rest. Drink water, stay here for a night, and do not escape out the window.
[ he peels the gloves from his hands, and goes to wash them. ]
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this kind of thing never sits right with him. that is not how the world works. he stole from the pharmacy, he got caught, and what, he got rewarded for it? bullshit. absolutely bullshit. therion doesn't owe debts. the idea that anyone can shackle him to anything, can hold anything over his head, gives him hives.
there are lots of ways to repay someone for something. some are money. some are favors. some... well. maybe not now. it would mean seeing this person more than once, but it would get him off of his back.
therion's pondering that as jiaoqiu reads his intentions correctly - that was exactly what he wanted to do, hop right out that window - and therion's brows furrow hard. he works his jaw once, twice. ]
...I'm not sleeping here.
[ it's... kind of an agreement? but sleeping in a stranger's home is a non-starter. ]
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And why not.
[ that's it that's the tag you cagey bitch ]
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I don't know you.
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[ a violent ear flick. ]
If you undo all my work in a night, what is the point of anything? I need to keep my eye on you so that you do not develop a fever, or worse. You don't need to know me to know that.
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I'm not an idiot or your charity case.
[ he literally just saved your life but okay!!! ]
For that matter, you don't even know who I am. You really want to keep me here?
[ his voice lowers a little on the last phrase. he still has that switchblade in his hand, after all. it's a threat - but it's not, not really. all bark. no bite. but if he scares him off, maybe he can go. ]
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Go ahead.
[ follow through on that thinly veiled threat! stab him, that's fine. he's not scared of therion or death, and he really just does not think that therion will actually do it. ]
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anyway. he stares, for a long moment - eye to eye, unflinching, the switchblade still in hand. but the thing is, it's still folded. it's been folded the whole time. it's more of a security blanket than it is anything actually threatening.
for a moment, there's just tense silence - and then he scoffs, rolls his eyes, and - ]
I'll leave when I'm ready.
[ so. yeah. he's not going to stab him! he was never going to stab him because he's a big baby. but he does get up from the recliner, and strips out of his bloodied, awful sweatshirt to go shove it in the nearest trashcan. no shirt underneath - just scars and tight muscle and the stark white of fresh bandages, now, the same as the front.
he is tired, is the thing. he's exhausted. he hasn't rested, really rested, in... years? probably in years. definitely not since he crawled out from where he was thrown - never once has he had the chance not to look over his shoulder. the moment he gets complacent is the moment he's dead.
eventually, from over his shoulder: ] You got a death wish, medicine man?
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there's a huff from him, when therion rolls his eyes. it's a little amused, but it's also just sort of tired. his shoulders ease up just a little bit when therion pulls himself to stand. good. not an agreement, but not rushing to leave, either, so... jiaoqiu turns to go back to the kitchen to give him a little bit of privacy. if he's a little disappointed he didn't get stabbed, it doesn't last very long. exciting, though, to test the limits.
the question gives him pause. ]
I don't have any wishes at all.
[ he answers finally, easy and soft. he glances out to where therion is standing - his eyes sweep over therion's form once, taking in the scars, the wiry muscle. ]
There's plenty of food in the refrigerator, if you find yourself hungry at any point. Take as much as you'd like. I make far too much for one person, as it is.
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there's something about the way jiaoqiu says that that feels... familiar? or at least, it resonates, in ways that are almost discordant. for starters, it's a kindhearted thing to say, that you have no wishes, that you don't want anything. it's the opposite of therion in some ways, the opposite of a thief and a parasite, a selfish creature that takes and takes, but in others it's a match. because there's an emptiness behind that phrase that he can only just sniff out, one that he knows too, how you can take and take and take and it does nothing for you. emptiness is normal. the hunger never quite fades.
he can sense he's being looked at; therion looks over his shoulder and meets his eye when it sweeps back up, raising an eyebrow, though the intensity of his stare doesn't quite match the nonchalant motion, as if he's just being checked out like a piece of meat.
huh.
as for the food bit. therion doesn't give that a verbal response - honestly, he probably would have raided the fridge anyway, but he's not doing it while jiaoqiu is right here. he just waves his hand, and leans against the trash can, folding his arms across his chest. it pulls a little on his stitches, but it doesn't really hurt, so. ]
Something's really wrong with you. [ wow. it doesn't sound like he thinks it's a bad thing or - it's at least just an observation. something is wrong with this dude. ]
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What a decidedly rude thing to say to someone who just saved your life.
[ but he doesn't sound offended like, at all. his tail swishes a bit behind him, and then he scoots past therion to go to the chair. he'll collect the towels that he laid down so that he can wash them, which. will be fun, he thinks as he looks over the bloodstains. he doesn't have a washing machine, so he's really going to have to take these to the public laundry and wash them... oh well.
he glances over at therion, with that same smile he always has. ]
I'm curious to know what makes you say that.
[ he ain't arguing, there's so much wrong with him, but y'know. ]
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and why would he say that? well. jiaoqiu telling him to stab him sure is a start, but there's stuff beyond that, too. there's the nihilistic lack of wishes, there's that smile that's just this side of unnerving. it's therion's turn to look him up and down, from tip to toe, assessing, ears to tail. he's done his fair business with foxians and thirens and all of the above, but none of them quite like... this guy.
with all that silence, you'd think he might be offering an actual answer, thinking over jiaoqiu's curiosity, and he tilts his chin up, but what comes out of therion's mouth is instead: ] You planning on sleeping tonight?
[ non sequitir much ]
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