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?
and then he goes to grab a trash bag and shoves the towels in there. he should wash them straight away so the stains don't have time to set in but he just cannot find it in him to care! so. it'll be a later thing. ]
I do. I'll be sleeping in my room, but I'll leave the door open.
[ therion can have the chair... he's not going to offer therion his bed, that seems like a step too far. the how much question keeps sticking in his mind. ]
[ point blank. going to sleep with a stranger in his house - a stranger who basically threatened him less than five minutes ago, now that's something wrong with him. he doesn't really extrapolate beyond that, though he doesn't sound particularly scathing when he says it, either. ]
Or, at least it's a start. [ his fingers tap the inside of his own bicep where they're resting, drumming, not quite able to stay perfectly still. he's feeling slightly less trapped now that he's got his route out - jiaoqiu will inevitably fall asleep and he can just book it - and this guy's so fucking weird that he's caught his attention. ]
I don't see why you'd wait to kill me in my sleep. You could have done it so many times in the past few minutes. I clearly will not fight back. I live alone. Nobody saw you come home with me. If you wanted to, I would already be dead.
[ a pause, and then: ]
I'd ask that you don't take anything when you leave. I can't stop you, but the few possessions I have are mostly sentimental and not worth much.
[ and then he's going to start heading to his bedroom - or rather, the shower, because he is going to take one before he goes to sleep. ]
HEY!!!! DON'T JUST READ HIM FOR FILTH LIKE THAT!!! therion does not say anything, though his expression briefly changes into realization as jiaoqiu continues, and then annoyance, though it's blatantly obvious that if this was a 1v1, jiaoqiu just scored a point. he scowls and rolls his eyes, finally shutting the lid to the trashcan with a loud clang, and turning away like he's going to go sit down. whatever.
as jiaoqiu's back disappears around the hallway, therion watches him, poised like a cat. this has been a strange, strange day, but he is alive, and one hand slowly slips down to touch the spot where he was stitched up over the bandages, staring after the space where jiaoqiu was long after he's gone.
he doesn't move again until he hears the shower. from there, therion goes to the fridge and silently opens it - looks for something simple, like a piece of fruit or something, something unnoticeable, and then makes his way to the window. one last look backwards into the strange, quiet apartment, with the strange, forceful doctor.
and then silently, he slides out of the window, shuts it behind him, and descends the fire escape like he was never there at all. (and he absolutely does not pull his stitches open. fuck you, doctor, he's a professional.)
but the interaction doesn't leave his mind long after he arrives back home to his tiny, shitty corner of the city. days pass and therion's life carries on without incident - no more jealous thieves trying to get the jump on him, no brushes with the law, just casual theft and his usual city wandering, a healing injury he treats with stolen medical supplies slumped against the wall in his squatter's apartment. you are welcome back whenever you'd like, the strange doctor said.
well. that's the other thing that lingers - the feeling of weight. it feels like he's trying to outrun a debt, because no one ever does things like that for free. whether jiaoqiu is that kind of person or not, therion can't stand it, like a shackle around his wrist, and after that week and a half or so has passed, his injury's looking far better and he's out to repay his debt.
so, therion finds his way back to the pharmacy with relative ease. late at night again - same time, same shift - but this time, therion walks in as a customer, casual, black sweatshirt and jeans with his hood pulled down. he even nods at the excitable security guard on his way in as he struts past a little display of fruit and plucks up an apple right under her nose, unnoticed, palms it under his coat like it's nothing, then leans on the counter.
and after a protracted moment where he looks back at the pharmacist's office (so that's where he saw him from, huh?) he reaches over, and rings the bell on the counter. ding! ]
[ okay look he is a little smug about winning that point.
but when he comes back out to check, and therion is gone, there's something in him that is almost disappointed. it's not a surprise, he figured that therion would have snuck out the second jiaoqiu's back was turned, but. he stands in the middle of his empty apartment and stares out the window for a very long time, lost in thought. for just a while, it wasn't just jiaoqiu. for just a while, someone else was in his home with him.
he scoffs to himself, when that thought crosses his mind, and he goes to bed. how pathetic of a loser is he that he brings home a half-dead stranger in order to feel less alone? to feel something at all? ugh. how embarrassing.
the next few days pass like all days pass. he barely remembers any of them. sushang brings him sushi absolutely drenched in wasabi one night, and the taste is the only thing that stands out. he thinks about making sushi himself, but that seems like a lot of effort just to feed one person. he wouldn't be able to eat it all by himself. hanya points out that he should probably eat more, and he makes a noncommittal noise. he eats enough to live. he promised that he would, after all, and that is the only important thing left, that promise.
tonight, he's working, but not hard. he keeps getting distracted by absolutely nothing at all, staring at the wall. everything around him feels like... soup. not even good soup. thick soup, improperly seasoned, like gruel. his thoughts are having a hard time moving. they get stuck, the world blurring, obscured by the steam. absently, he ponders whether or not he'd even feel the heat of the pot. he knows already that the contents would be tasteless, dull.
and then the bell on his counter rings, and he looks over to see his patient standing there waiting. a beat, as he stares at therion from his desk, and then he stands up. as he makes his way over, he notes the sound of the clock on the wall ticking, in a way that he couldn't before. clarity. ]
You'll need to wait until my shift is over if you're looking for painkillers.
[ implies that he can't write a prescription but he'll just steal some for therion off the clock lol ]
[ help. a smirk crosses therion's mouth, because it appeals to his sense of humor, and he stays leaning on the counter for now, unmoving from where the doctor comes closer. it's a stark picture compared to the defensive, feral animal bleeding in an alleyway a week and some change ago - here he's confident and relaxed, or at least, he certainly appears to be. ]
Hah. Be careful, doctor. Hate to refer you to the authorities.
[ the tongue in cheek nature of the statement makes it slide out of his mouth, matching the little smirk, the word 'authorities' dripping with irony. his gaze flicks to see if he's wearing a nametag - something he didn't take down the night before - and then back up to his face. ]
If my time's right, your shift's about to end. Is it?
[ the sass in this sentence, wow. he looks amused. also, yeah he probably has a nametag, so therion can see that his name is jiaoqiu and not that weirdo pink fuck.
he glances back at the clock, and raises his eyebrows. a beat. ]
... So it is. [ he didn't even realize. ] Why do you ask?
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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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
(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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and then he goes to grab a trash bag and shoves the towels in there. he should wash them straight away so the stains don't have time to set in but he just cannot find it in him to care! so. it'll be a later thing. ]
I do. I'll be sleeping in my room, but I'll leave the door open.
[ therion can have the chair... he's not going to offer therion his bed, that seems like a step too far. the how much question keeps sticking in his mind. ]
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[ point blank. going to sleep with a stranger in his house - a stranger who basically threatened him less than five minutes ago, now that's something wrong with him. he doesn't really extrapolate beyond that, though he doesn't sound particularly scathing when he says it, either. ]
Or, at least it's a start. [ his fingers tap the inside of his own bicep where they're resting, drumming, not quite able to stay perfectly still. he's feeling slightly less trapped now that he's got his route out - jiaoqiu will inevitably fall asleep and he can just book it - and this guy's so fucking weird that he's caught his attention. ]
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I don't see why you'd wait to kill me in my sleep. You could have done it so many times in the past few minutes. I clearly will not fight back. I live alone. Nobody saw you come home with me. If you wanted to, I would already be dead.
[ a pause, and then: ]
I'd ask that you don't take anything when you leave. I can't stop you, but the few possessions I have are mostly sentimental and not worth much.
[ and then he's going to start heading to his bedroom - or rather, the shower, because he is going to take one before he goes to sleep. ]
You are welcome back whenever you'd like.
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HEY!!!! DON'T JUST READ HIM FOR FILTH LIKE THAT!!! therion does not say anything, though his expression briefly changes into realization as jiaoqiu continues, and then annoyance, though it's blatantly obvious that if this was a 1v1, jiaoqiu just scored a point. he scowls and rolls his eyes, finally shutting the lid to the trashcan with a loud clang, and turning away like he's going to go sit down. whatever.
as jiaoqiu's back disappears around the hallway, therion watches him, poised like a cat. this has been a strange, strange day, but he is alive, and one hand slowly slips down to touch the spot where he was stitched up over the bandages, staring after the space where jiaoqiu was long after he's gone.
he doesn't move again until he hears the shower. from there, therion goes to the fridge and silently opens it - looks for something simple, like a piece of fruit or something, something unnoticeable, and then makes his way to the window. one last look backwards into the strange, quiet apartment, with the strange, forceful doctor.
and then silently, he slides out of the window, shuts it behind him, and descends the fire escape like he was never there at all. (and he absolutely does not pull his stitches open. fuck you, doctor, he's a professional.)
but the interaction doesn't leave his mind long after he arrives back home to his tiny, shitty corner of the city. days pass and therion's life carries on without incident - no more jealous thieves trying to get the jump on him, no brushes with the law, just casual theft and his usual city wandering, a healing injury he treats with stolen medical supplies slumped against the wall in his squatter's apartment. you are welcome back whenever you'd like, the strange doctor said.
well. that's the other thing that lingers - the feeling of weight. it feels like he's trying to outrun a debt, because no one ever does things like that for free. whether jiaoqiu is that kind of person or not, therion can't stand it, like a shackle around his wrist, and after that week and a half or so has passed, his injury's looking far better and he's out to repay his debt.
so, therion finds his way back to the pharmacy with relative ease. late at night again - same time, same shift - but this time, therion walks in as a customer, casual, black sweatshirt and jeans with his hood pulled down. he even nods at the excitable security guard on his way in as he struts past a little display of fruit and plucks up an apple right under her nose, unnoticed, palms it under his coat like it's nothing, then leans on the counter.
and after a protracted moment where he looks back at the pharmacist's office (so that's where he saw him from, huh?) he reaches over, and rings the bell on the counter. ding! ]
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but when he comes back out to check, and therion is gone, there's something in him that is almost disappointed. it's not a surprise, he figured that therion would have snuck out the second jiaoqiu's back was turned, but. he stands in the middle of his empty apartment and stares out the window for a very long time, lost in thought. for just a while, it wasn't just jiaoqiu. for just a while, someone else was in his home with him.
he scoffs to himself, when that thought crosses his mind, and he goes to bed. how pathetic of a loser is he that he brings home a half-dead stranger in order to feel less alone? to feel something at all? ugh. how embarrassing.
the next few days pass like all days pass. he barely remembers any of them. sushang brings him sushi absolutely drenched in wasabi one night, and the taste is the only thing that stands out. he thinks about making sushi himself, but that seems like a lot of effort just to feed one person. he wouldn't be able to eat it all by himself. hanya points out that he should probably eat more, and he makes a noncommittal noise. he eats enough to live. he promised that he would, after all, and that is the only important thing left, that promise.
tonight, he's working, but not hard. he keeps getting distracted by absolutely nothing at all, staring at the wall. everything around him feels like... soup. not even good soup. thick soup, improperly seasoned, like gruel. his thoughts are having a hard time moving. they get stuck, the world blurring, obscured by the steam. absently, he ponders whether or not he'd even feel the heat of the pot. he knows already that the contents would be tasteless, dull.
and then the bell on his counter rings, and he looks over to see his patient standing there waiting. a beat, as he stares at therion from his desk, and then he stands up. as he makes his way over, he notes the sound of the clock on the wall ticking, in a way that he couldn't before. clarity. ]
You'll need to wait until my shift is over if you're looking for painkillers.
[ implies that he can't write a prescription but he'll just steal some for therion off the clock lol ]
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Hah. Be careful, doctor. Hate to refer you to the authorities.
[ the tongue in cheek nature of the statement makes it slide out of his mouth, matching the little smirk, the word 'authorities' dripping with irony. his gaze flicks to see if he's wearing a nametag - something he didn't take down the night before - and then back up to his face. ]
If my time's right, your shift's about to end. Is it?
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he glances back at the clock, and raises his eyebrows. a beat. ]
... So it is. [ he didn't even realize. ] Why do you ask?
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