for a good portion of it, he doesn't get up out of bed. he wakes up, and goes back to sleep, but it's restless, and eventually the rain on the window gets too insistent. it's all he can focus on. so he sits up, and he opens his soft gold eyes and he stares out the window, into the pouring rain. it's like they're calling. so he answers it. he stands. he moves, he gets dressed, and he doesn't really pay attention to how long it takes him. maybe an hour? maybe less. he doesn't have any clocks in his house, and even if he did he wouldn't hear them.
he doesn't have much to bring them. sake, for her. a tupperware of noodles, mild, for him. he rests them carefully on the headstones, and he sits down between them, and doesn't care if he gets mud anywhere. he's soaked in seconds, his fur thick and matted, ears pressed down against the rain.
nothing much to say, either. he opens his mouth to try, a few times, but nothing comes out. so instead he sits, in silence, for hours. in this cemetery, in the cold, watching the moisture get trapped in the tupperware container, watching raindrops slide down the bottle. time doesn't really have much meaning out here. but what really does, he thinks? and then he laughs quietly to himself.
[ for therion, it's just a normal day. a wet one, but a normal day nonetheless. his days tend to blur together when he stays in a place for a while, the passage of time marked only by the hours of sleep he snatches restless and on guard in his little kind of home. therion is, by nature, a wanderer, and his explorations through the city he's only recently come to call a sort of home, often lead him looping down similar paths.
one of those paths leads him through a graveyard. and on this normal, chilly, wet day, he spots something unusual - a bright flash of pink in the middle of all of that gray. a familiar flash of pink. is that... the doctor?
he's not going to pry, not really. therion doesn't have ghosts or people to mourn - he's not a heathen, he doesn't pickpocket people in the graveyard - so he heads down a path and ignores it the first time, off to run his errands. an hour later, however, when he comes back across the path, jiaoqiu is still there.
and three hours later, when he's run through the rich quarter of town and jiaoqiu is still there, he turns in a different direction entirely.
there's something so - lonely, about it. and while grief isn't familiar, loneliness is, in a clawing, aching way that he'd never, ever admit to. therion doesn't think like that. what he tells himself is that he's pretty sure he's going to catch his death, and it's a pain in the ass, and what kind of idiot sits out in the rain for hours at a time, and that's how he finds himself coming back with an umbrella over his head, his hoodie pulled up high, and stops to stand behind jiaoqiu soundlessly.
the rain over jiaoqiu stops, all of a sudden, replace with the soft sound of pattering over stretched canvas on an umbrella, and a voice breaks through. ]
You really gonna make me tell you you're going to catch your death out here?
[ his tone is resigned in the way therion has to be resigned, in the way he grouses, as he looks down at jiaoqiu. he's caught shades of this side of him, here and there, in the short time that they've known each other, and glancing at the gravestones, he can put the pieces together, but he saves jiaoqiu the question of "what the hell do you think you're doing". he doens't have much experience with grief. it doesn't mean he doesn't know what it looks like. ]
[ the gravestones are meticulously kept, very clean, the carvings clear.
feixiao, moze. same day death dates. a while back - years ago, but not far enough for it to be a memory.
at first, he doesn't even notice the fact that he's no longer getting rained on. there's no sound, there's no sensation, just the slow, steady drip of condensation down the side of the glass bottle to the dirt below. he can't drag his eyes away from it. everything else around him is blurred out, unimportant. just the stark, unmoving stone in front of him. he wonders, if he puts his hand out and touched the stone, would it burn? would it be cold? would it feel like anything at all? is that because of the cold numbing his skin, or is it because his body no longer exists? does it even matter?
and then there's a voice, and he blinks. his eyes hurt. he'd probably been staring for way too long. the sound of the rain is suddenly very, harshly loud in his ears, the patter against the umbrella distorted. his ear flicks.
jiaoqiu looks up, and is very, very surprised to see therion, of all people. is it actually him? why would he be here? a beat. ]
[ the flick of the ear is the first sign of life, and - he wouldn't recognize that what he feels is relief, but it is. he can almost see the void jiaoqiu is sitting in.
he scoffs. it's loud, probably a little jarring. ]
Yeah? I had enough time to go halfway across town and come back. Twice. It's almost dark.
[ it sounds like he wants to add an insult at the end there, typical therion behavior, but he stops himself at the last second, and just frowns down at him instead, harsher than he means to, always sharper than he means to, but it's not like he's ever known anything any better. it's almost dark, idiot. you've been out here for hours, idiot.
silence passes for a second. two. he stares down, and then jerks his head. ] Get up.
[ it's not a request, really. if he doesn't start to move, therion will reach down to put his hand - hesitate - put his hand on his arm. ]
[ it startles him a little, the scoff. for whatever reason he isn't expecting the noise. it rattles around in his head, up his spine, against his teeth. he breathes. fills his lungs with the musty air of the dead and exhales out slow. you are alive, jiaoqiu. act like it. he can almost hear her scolding him.
he can hear therion scolding him, which is funny, in a way. jiaoqiu has scolded him a few times, don't move too fast, you'll open your stitches. eat something, you're too skinny. come here, you have blood on your collar, come here, let me wipe your mouth -- he remembers doing it, but it feels sticky and slow, trying to pull up the way it felt. it's almost dark? but it wasn't. he just got here, and it was mid-morning. he would've noticed the sun going down.
... it's almost dark. huh.
jiaoqiu doesn't get up at first, content to ignore therion. but the hand on his arm gets his attention. therion is touching him. he needs something, probably, which means he shouldn't sit here anymore, really. his ear flicks again. there's a part of him that wants to answer, or what? but the words never get past his lips. he just smiles his usual, and then looks back at the gravestones. ]
You'll have to forgive me. [ he says to them, softer, barely heard above the rain. ] I can't stay. What a relief, hm?
[ and then he slowly stands up. it seems like a lot of effort to do so, like his knees hurt from kneeling in the dirt for hours. because they do. ]
[ there’s a lot to parse even in those little statements, words spoken to ghosts. right now jiaoqiu looks like one of them. a ghost, barely present in a different way than therion - where he drifts through the world as an unknown, jiaoqiu just fades from it, like an out breath on a frosty night. it’s not the first time he’s seen this behavior out of him, by the nature of the way he chases sensation, but it’s nothing close to faint whispers of nihilism underlying daily motion.
the grip on his arm is firm, but it’s not hard. he looks at the grave as he pulls him to his feet, reading the names and the dates and the distance, or the lack thereof. never being attached to anyone has its perks, he thinks to himself, quietly sardonic even as he’s the one to make sure jiaoqiu’a fully covered by the umbrella no matter how drenched he is. ]
Come on. [ nothing gentle, but he pulls him along. away from the two little gravestones and the offerings, away from the past. if he walked here, drove here, it doesn’t matter - they’re walking now. with a purpose, heading back for the apartment where jiaoqiu lives. the umbrella stays over his head the entire time. ]
[ the grip on his arm is grounding, is what it is. sometimes he feels like he'd just float away if it were not for the fact that the world seems determined to ping some sort of sensation in him. if it isn't this, it's car horns, it's sushang asking him questions, it's the loud thud of someone dropping something heavy a floor above, it's the sun shining too brightly in his eyes. the world trying to remind him that he exists.
it isn't even really against his will. he doesn't mind existence. he likes his job. he likes food. more than anything, he likes that. the process of cooking, the feeling of a knife in his hand, the soft clunks of the metal hitting the wood of a cutting board, sliding chopped vegetables into a pot, the click click click of the flame in his oven turning on. the rumble of the refrigerator, the suction noise when he opens the door and the icy air hits his face. sensation. he likes all of those things. liked? no. likes. it's just hard to grasp it, sometimes. like smoke.
lately he's liked when therion is around, too. that seems a little dangerous, so he veers away from the thought.
gentleness isn't what he needs, he thinks, so this is fine. they walk away from the gravestones, and jiaoqiu looks up at the umbrella. his footsteps make wet, splashy noises. his tail is soaked. his fur feels disgusting, he's cold. across the street, there's a rosebush in someone's yard, and the color stands out. purples, pinks. greens. there's green, and slightly in front of him is black, a wraith with white hair, dragging him along with purpose.
absently, jiaoqiu takes therion's hand in his own. almost experimentally, staring down at them like he's expecting something.
whatever it is, it doesn't happen, so he lets go. but he keeps walking, and doesn't even mention what he just did. his apartment is around the corner, on the fourth floor. ]
therion's never, in his entire memory, had someone hold his hand. not when he was a tiny child, wandering through the streets at darius' heels, and not as an adult. never once has he known an affectionate touch - not a mother's hug, a father's hair ruffle, a tender kiss from a lover, and the experimental little hold grabs his heart and twists it like a dishrag.
in the experimental two seconds, he's torn between ripping his hand away and grabbing onto it more desperately, which is pathetic, and he doesn't even realize the instinct for what it is. did jiaoqiu need it? did he want it? therion doesn't glance back because he's still trudging forward, because someone has to, because at least if he has to drag jiaoqiu kicking and screaming, at least he'd show some kind of sign of life.
so he makes a noise. a grunt. shakes his head quickly, and then grabs his hand again as opposed to his arm. fine. unlike jiaoqiu, his hand is dry, and he probably grips a little too tightly, but he stomps ahead to pull him along like that, holding his dumb, stupid hand and grousing internally about it like it didn't (despite everything) make the backs of his ears turn so red it's visible through his hair.
whatever!!!!!
the apartment's familiar by now. he found it the second time he came over, let alone the third, fourth, fifth - a skittish feral cat taking tentative meals from a bowl - and as they slosh into the apartment's lobby floor, he finally lets go of his hand to shut his umbrella and shake it out over the rug, then drags him to the elevator, all the way until they're at his door. ]
Keys. [ one word. he holds out his hand. otherwise he'll just pick the lock, is implied, if he can't do it, but it's freaking him out to see jiaoqiu drifting so badly. a mechanical task is better than nothing. ]
[ of all things, he's not actually expecting therion to grab his hand again, and he startles a little when he does. it's not unwelcome, though. maybe it's not what he expected - he's not sure what he expected, even - but once he's got it, he doesn't let go. there's some life to the way he grips, too. the pressure is nice. grounding, like the crunch of gravel under their feet and the crisp, clear smell of the rain on the pavement.
therion's ears are red, he notes distantly as they walk. it's a nice contrast. the sound of the rain is almost deafening, as he stares for a while, but then his eyes get caught by the way the number changes on the elevator screen. one, two, three, four.
when they reach the door, finally, it takes him a second to respond. but he's not so far gone that he doesn't understand, so he reaches into his pocket and hands therion the keys to his apartment without thinking twice. there's something wrong with you, therion had said that first time, when he'd offered his house to a man with a knife. it's kind of funny to jiaoqiu, because therion had no idea how true that was.
into the apartment they go. and then, after a moment, something clicks. oh. right, this makes sense. what did therion need, he thinks, that he went out of his way to bring him back to jiaoqiu's apartment? he's got it now.
so when the door closes, jiaoqiu shuffles forward, and nudges therion against the wall - doesn't let go of his hand, but instead tugs at therion's belt with his free one. ]
[ keys. alright, he takes them and unlocks the door with ease, then nudges the door open with his hip and steps to the side to get jiaoqiu in, shutting the door behind him. the keys can go somewhere, there's probably a hook nearby or something, and he drops his umbrella at the front soop (sorry), but therion barely has time to process it, because the next thing he knows, jiaoqiu is all up in his grill.
his first reaction is tense, like a startled animal, because when he's not expecting it, his first instinct is always an attack, and as he's set to the wall, he looks down and that tenseness quickly changes to absolutely flabbergasted as it clicks what the fuck jiaoqiu's trying to actually do. does he understand it? the action, yes. the reasoning? absolutely fucking not. he looks down at jiaoqiu's hand. ]
No. What? [ what the fuck. therion slaps his hand away from his belt and looks back up at him, the confusion turning to a "what the fuck" scowl. ] What the hell are you doing. You're pathetic right now.
[ just. completely rude but what else is new. he lets go of his hand and puts both of his on his chest, starting to push him into the apartment, instead, then thinks better of it in case he gets any implications, and points in the direction of where he knows his bedroom is. ]
Take your shoes off and go change your clothes. Or - go get in the shower. Pick one.
[ there's a hook for the keys, yeah, and the umbrella can just stay there - jiaoqiu doesn't notice either. he doesn't even really care where his things end up. there's nothing to steal in his apartment, nothing of value. anything that he wants to keep is useless to other people. if someone wants in, they can get in. at least then it wouldn't be just one person trying to fill all that space.
but he's not thinking about that, because he's trying to get therion's belt undone, and - is thwarted? that doesn't make any sense, and for a second jiaoqiu looks at therion with a blank look. no? that's not what he wanted? huh.
jiaoqiu should be embarrassed, but he isn't. the emotion gets stuck somewhere. it's like watching a computer stutter, the way he tries to process therion pushing him further into the apartment. weird is the wrong word. it's not weird, that therion is directing him, telling him to go change, to go shower. it's not unexpected either, because there would have had to be some sort of expectation to begin with for there to be anything to be surprised by. mostly, it just doesn't feel real. like he's imagining all of this, sitting at the gravestones, letting his thoughts get away from him.
a beat, as he stands in the middle of the hallway between his bedroom and bathroom, dripping water and mud onto the floor. and then without any hesitation he brings his hand up to his mouth and bites it, as hard as he can, sinks his fangs into the meat of his palm.
[ oh my god. he's left watching him for a second as he pulls off and starts wandering, just kind of staring after jiaoqiu and feeling - disconcerted? off? it's hard to really put into words. watching him like this is making the hairs on the back of therion's neck stand up, and he watches him just stand there, unaware that he's biting himself hard right away, lacking the senses for fresh blood.
to therion, looking at him from behind, it looks like he's just stopped, again. he makes another noise that sounds irritated but lacks any actual heat and stalks behind him, silently, reaching out to set both hands on his back to give him a push -
but the sight of what he's doing stops him from going that far, and he says, kind of sharply, almost at a loss, ] Jiaoqiu.
[ rare, for him to use his name. it's always nicknames, doc and fluff and pinky, medicine man. but for as much as he tries to hide it, therion is the kind of person who feels deep and emotional, and he can't quite school his expression back from shock and concern, from over his shoulder at the sight. his hands falter where he was going to push, and he's left just kind of standing with him like a shadow, hands touching his wet back, ignoring the wet, awful feeling of his tail for now. he's not sure what he's asking him to do, or what not to do. he's just - doing something. doing something badly, probably, but what else is new.
his hands are warm. warm and familiar, if nothing else. ]
[ the pain of it does wake him up a little, but more than anything, it's therion using his actual name that makes the difference. he hears his name, and then he hears the quiet of the room, the almost static, tinny sound of pure silence. he hears dogs barking outside and he can feel his feet on the ground, stuck in his shoes, his clothes damp and heavy and making his fur feel like sludge.
a beat. he pulls his hand from his mouth, and looks at the blood gathering there, and then sucks in a breath. it hurts. that's good.
jiaoqiu looks over his shoulder at therion, gold eyes open and tired, but - there's something there. he's awake. silence, for a long moment, and then he leans into the hand on his back. takes the warmth. ]
... Ah.
[ is all he can manage at first, because the world is so loud. he can hear himself breathing. ]
[ something is wrong with you, he'd said, that very first day they met.
therion's instincts are dead-on, but he couldn't realize how much - it's coming back to him now as he just stares at him, searches his face for something that he's not sure of. an explanation? a light? that's there, at least, some sense of consciousness that he's not shown in this entire walk over here. his mouth opens, closes, like he wants to say something. what does he even say? what are you doing? you freaked me out? are you okay?
he doesn't know. he never does. therion exhales, noisily instead, feeling the urge to scrub his hand through his hair and resisting it, feeling him lean back against his hand. god. okay. he gives him another little nudge to make him walk forward, and walks with him to the bathroom, his hand remaining there, at the small of his back. it's too much moving, too rough, unable to handle this like - like a normal person should, maybe, unable to express his concern in a way that isn't violence. ]
Just - sit.
[ aborted, but he gestures him over to where the toilet is. ] And turn the water on.
[ and then he pulls away from him again, but it's to grab a washcloth and shove it in his hands, onto the spot where he bit the meat of his palm, and then to start rifling through jiaoqiu's cabinets. noisily as opposed to his usual silence, banging around until he finds what he's looking for, opening doors and closing them. he at least knows where some of this shit is, because they've been in this exact sort of situation, if in reverse, and he comes out of the cabinets a couple of seconds later with a tube of disinfecting ointment and a couple of bandages. ]
feixiao told him once that she was never scared of him because when they first met, he was saving her life. she told him she never understood why people found him slightly unsettling, or lifeless, or suspicious. he'd just smiled, because she didn't understand how impossible it was to be nothing when she was so very bright in his presence. moze saw it, sometimes. in the quiet of a tent, bandaging wounds mechanically. it only happened once. and then jiaoqiu made sure to never let the nothingness swallow him up again, not while moze was alive.
he watches therion slam around in his cabinets, wincing slightly at the noise. it feels like it's inside his skull. but it feels good, he thinks, or at least, it feels, and he needs that. carefully, jiaoqiu turns and flips the faucet on, watches the water hit the tile. he's a little sluggish, but this time he doesn't get caught staring. instead, he sits down, and makes a face. his clothes are awful.
therion will find him pressing a claw into one of the fang marks when he returns, though he stops when he sees therion. a beat. ]
Therion.
[ he says, and his voice is a little hoarse. he instinctively reaches - for therion? for the bandages and disinfecting ointment? both? maybe. and then his hand falters and falls back into his lap. ]
... So I am awake. My apologies. You can go if you'd like. I'm not in any danger.
[ wow. no hesitation on that one. he drops down to his knees in front of him - a familiar position, but in an entirely different context - and bats his other hand away from the injured one, out of the way. that's all this is, similar scenario, new context, with therion the one trying to take care instead of being scolded, as clumsily as he does. he glances up at this sopping wet, pathetic looking creature and feels a whole host of emotions, annoyed and concerned and something else - attached, the worst emotion in the entire world - and then annoyed again.
but despite his frown, he carries on. he's cleaned his own injuries hundreds of times. he patched himself up after darius threw him off of a cliff in a whole other city, dragged himself out of ditches and alleys and everything in between, so it's not that its unfamiliar. but he knows what hurts on him and what doesn't, and when jiaoqiu reaches, he meets him halfway and holds the injured hand in his own smaller one, then takes out the disinfectant and puts it on for him. then the bandages - open package, peel the paper with his teeth, and press down, stick the material to his skin. methodical, correct, clumsy, but careful - it's a tiny bandage, its hard to fuck up - and despite it all, his hold on jiaoqiu's hand so it doesn't move is surprisingly gentle.
so i am awake. that answers some things and nothing at the same time. he scowls down at his hand as he finishes with it, satisfied with his bandage job, then looks up at him, and lets go, pushing himself back up. ]
Take your clothes off and get in. You look like a drowned rat.
it's been a very long time since anybody has made an effort to take care of him like this. in fact, jiaoqiu can't think of the last time. it's almost a brand new experience to watch therion to drop down between his legs and... bandage him, instead of... well. there's care in the movement. jiaoqiu gets lost, sometimes, he sinks away, but he's not so bad at reading people. and therion is not so incredibly difficult to read, in his opinion. he sits obediently, lets therion methodically patch up the wound jiaoqiu caused.
and just sort of very gently dislodges his uninjured hand from therion's so he can rest his hand on the side of therion's face. he does it with the same amount of care therion puts into sticking the bandage to his hand. like, maybe surprisingly gentle. he strokes therion's cheek with his thumb.
being told to shut up or that he looks like a drowned rat doesn't seem to offend him at all, he just takes it in stride. he'll let therion get up though, and he'll look over at the shower. okay. right. clothes need to come off. start small. shirt first. ]
[ the touch is... a lot! it's a lot, for one little therion. he's had his face squished and yanked around, occasionally briefly touched or moved, but there's so much weight in the way jiaoqiu's hand lands on his cheek that it gives therion pause. he stares at him for a second, wide eyed and stupid as he strokes his cheek, and his stupid, stupid, stupid traitorous heart does a stupid backflip, and it is that that snaps him out of it. flustering, he pulls back and gets up to his feet, red standing out even on his tan skin.
right. that threw him so off guard he forgot what he was doing next, which thank god jiaoqiu starts dawdling on his clothes. despite the fact that it looked like three seconds ago he was going to bolt, he does not do that. instead, he rounds back on jiaoqiu and grabs the bottom of his shirt to unceremoniously yank it over his head and off of him with absolutely zero mercy. it is wet and cold and probably deeply unpleasant but it makes therion feel better about that interaction because he's going to die of embarrassment otherwise.
once it's off, he takes it from him and wrings it out in the sink for something to do with his hands, heart pounding hard against his ribcage. god. stupid. he's sooo cool. ]
[ auegh, that is such an unpleasant feeling!! off the shirt goes, and his fur is all disheveled and sticking up. he really does look like a drowned rat, or like a baby lion that's had it's fur licked up against the grain, simba style. there's a little grumbling sound that escapes when he's left shirtless, sitting with a dazed expression.
but here's the thing - therion turning bright red makes him smile, and even though it's small and exhausted and thin, it isn't one of his fake ones. it's something genuine. his heart is thudding in his ears, the shower water hits the tub and the pounding of the water pressure pricks at his skin, and he's watching someone react to his hands. once upon a time, he knew how to be gentle. it's like riding a bike, giving it to someone who probably needs it far more than he does.
jiaoqiu's not stupid. he doesn't think much of himself, but he's seen the way therion carries himself. skittish. like he's been hurt before, more than anything. it makes something in him ache. something he can't quite access, but feels like maybe he wants to.
a pause. ]
... Will you help me in?
[ he doesn't ever ask for help. he doesn't like to. he's not helpless. but also, if he's alone he's going to crawl right back into that blank nothingness, and he knows he's not supposed to do that. so he's trying. ]
well, okay. jiaoqiu making that disgruntled noise makes him feel more on balance again. good. serves him right!! for what? who knows! he takes the soaking wet shirt and hangs it up on a towel rack so it can dry out for now, back turned to jiaoqiu - a small hint of trust even in and of itself.
he's grumbling under his breath - stupid fucking fox, at least, is probably enough to be picked out by sensitive ears, but he pauses when jiaoqiu addresses him again. and after a long moment, he looks over his shoulder, expression softening more than he really means for it to, looking more acutely surprised before it evens back out, and there's a little nod.
so, he shifts a little where he's standing, and nods, then comes back over. the disheveled messy fur look is worse than the drowned rat angle in a different manner entirely, and in a different situation he'd probably laugh at him for it. instead, therion takes his hands to pull him up. there's a lot of lithe strength in his body, and he pulls jiaoqiu up with relative ease and pushes the shower curtain back, then steps to the side. he doesn't need to shed his clothes to help him into the shower.
so he helps, wordlessly, because he doesn't trust himself to say something and not fuck up what he is being handed, which feels like a moment of deep, deep vulnerability. the water's hot, hot. he knows jiaoqiu well enough by now (when did that happen?) to know he probably wants it scalding. ]
as they stand, jiaoqiu holds onto therion. he's thin and wiry, but pretty strong, maybe deceptively so. he's not going to be winning any arm wrestling contests for sure, but he is present, and his grip isn't feeble. for a moment, before he steps into the tub, he just stands, gripping at therion's arm. he's careful not to dig his claws into therion's skin as he kicks his shoes and pants off. underwear can stay. not like therion hasn't seen him naked, but the idea of being physically naked on top of everything else makes him nauseated.
there's something in him that is wildly uncomfortable with this, with letting therion this close in multiple ways, but - he doesn't stop it from happening. he doesn't stop himself from reaching, from holding on. in fact, he moves a little closer even, resting his head against therion's shoulder briefly. maybe it's survival instinct, which is funny because he's pretty sure he lost that a long time ago, or maybe it's something else. his head is absolutely not in the right place to sort through why he stays. but it is trust. it's trust the same way that therion allowed jiaoqiu to see his back. he recognizes that much.
the water is hot. he does like it scalding, and he knows that it is because he can see the steam. he likes that therion knows, and there's another crunchy, horrible feeling in his chest. ice cracking, glass shattering, the sound of tires backing out over a dirt path. gritty. things that would be painful if the object in question wasn't inanimate. a beat, and he drags in a breath that sounds a little painful, ears pinning down against his skull. and then he lets go of therion and climbs into the tub.
he actually mutters ow when the water hits his skin. he's cold, and it kind of thaws him out. ]
[ the dig of his hands into his arms doesn't bother him. neither would the claws - it wouldn't be the first time he's worn scratch marks from jiaoqiu somewhere on his body - but they never come. he just lets him cling onto him, holds very still - sucks in a soft breath when his head touches his shoulder, but says nothing of it. it gives him the briefest second to look at him, his expression complicated, brow knit, before he turns his head away again properly and supports him into the tub.
he pulls the curtain shut for him with finality afterwards, and thank god for it, because it gives therion a second to just - compose himself. to do something. to try and understand the thousands of feelings rattling around in his ribcage, a mix of negative and positive and heavy, so, so heavy that he's not sure how to hold it. he takes a silent breath, still holding the shower curtain, frozen in a moment of decision.
jiaoqiu's little "ow" gets him to mutter - ] 's what you get. [ just loud enough to be heard, a little hysterical if he barely shows it. there's a beat of quiet. of shower water hitting porcelain hitting a soft body. silence.
he thinks about how easily he could fall, drifting out into nothingness. about the need to be anchored. and how fucking bad therion of all people is at being an anchor.
and then there's movement - just visible through steam, the silhouette of lifting his arms, blurry and not quite there, and then, and then -- and then the shower curtain opens again, this time with a little less finality, and therion slips in quietly behind jiaoqiu, his heart thudding hard with his choice, also only stripped down to his underwear. he's willingly trapping himself in here (he's going to help, clumsily and stupidly, but he's going to help.) if jiaoqiu says anything about it he might die, so luckily he can't acknowledge too much beyond the fact that the first thing therion says is a hissed, ] -- Fuck.
[ he figures that'll be the end of it, and that therion will abscond off somewhere, and that's fine. he did say that therion could go. he's not in any danger, theoretically. the curtain shuts, and jiaoqiu just stands in the spray and lets the water hit him. only slightly tilts his head so that he doesn't drown himself. that crunchy glass feeling gets worse, and his fingers trace the bandage therion clumsily put over the bite mark on his hand. he'll need to make sure it doesn't get infected, probably.
therion will leave, and come back when jiaoqiu's mask is back in place, and it'll be the same as ever.
only, the shower curtain opens again. jiaoqiu startles, giving therion a wide-eyed look. he almost does say something about it, but then there's that little fuck as therion gets blasted by hot water, and jiaoqiu laughs. it's small, and a little gaspy, but it's a laugh.
and after a moment, he shifts, blocking therion off from the worst of the spray. he can't turn around, he doesn't think either of them would handle that well. but he does lean back, and he rests his back to therion's front, tail shifting to slink down out of the way the best it can. carefully, one hand comes back around to rest on therion's arm, keeping him where he is.
maybe therion thinks he's bad at being an anchor, but jiaoqiu has been so lost at sea for so long that even something just floating by is a relief. ]
If you need me to turn it down... [ he says, with a half smile, closing his eyes. ]
[ he immediately has the completely feral urge to just fucking bite him for having the gall to say that. shut up!! he's embarrassed, and there's a lot happening here, and the water was startling, not unbearable, but there's no defending himself in a way that's not like, stupid, so he does not bite him but he does kind of put his teeth in his shoulderblade. he's not tall enough to reach his shoulder. ]
Shut up, furball. [ GRUMBLING
this kind of normalcy helps! it helps. because this is something he's never actually done, shared such an intimately vulnerable moment with another person - even just down to sharing a shower. (part of this is because he's never actually lived somewhere with a shower that had more than two minutes of hot water, but that's besides the point.) so it takes a second, but he brings one rough hand around and sets it on his hip and just leaves it there, letting the hand on his arm stay.
...staying, himself. an unusual thing to say the least. therion's a ghost in his own right - sometimes he skips town for days at a time, vanishes in and out of the city just to be somewhere else, but for the moment, he's settled here, and... for the moment, it seems like maybe jiaoqiu's starting to come back to earth, too. so. maybe it's worth it. he got him to laugh. if he'd been paying more attention and not spazzing out, he might've seen that genuine smile, too, but that laugh will stick in his head hours from now, and though he'll berate himself internally about it, that won't make it go away.
god. therion exhales out because he doesn't know what the fuck else to do with himself at the moment, sort of a grumbly sigh like he is deeply put upon - a gesture by now that jiaoqiu likely knows is bullshit. ]
[ the gnawing amuses him. makes him feel fond, which he knows is dangerous. this is a bad idea, it's such a bad idea. he cannot attach himself to someone who has no strings. these meetings, these times that therion shows up to steal his food and push him down into the armchair, they're bad for his heart. one day, there will be a time that therion does not come back. it'll be the last time, and jiaoqiu won't know for sure until it's been years, until he finds a news report or a gravestone or even worse, nothing at all.
he knows better than to overeat, but he's starving, and he can't help but grab for more and more, even though he knows it's going to make him sick, that it's going to shock his body.
jiaoqiu rests his hand on top of therion's. he listens to therion grumble, and his fingers clench a little, like he wants to slide them between therion's on his hip, but he doesn't. the water is hot and he is present, which is new, considering the date. most times, this date is a blur from start to finish.
very softly, like he wants the water to drown him out: ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
puts on mcr
for a good portion of it, he doesn't get up out of bed. he wakes up, and goes back to sleep, but it's restless, and eventually the rain on the window gets too insistent. it's all he can focus on. so he sits up, and he opens his soft gold eyes and he stares out the window, into the pouring rain. it's like they're calling. so he answers it. he stands. he moves, he gets dressed, and he doesn't really pay attention to how long it takes him. maybe an hour? maybe less. he doesn't have any clocks in his house, and even if he did he wouldn't hear them.
he doesn't have much to bring them. sake, for her. a tupperware of noodles, mild, for him. he rests them carefully on the headstones, and he sits down between them, and doesn't care if he gets mud anywhere. he's soaked in seconds, his fur thick and matted, ears pressed down against the rain.
nothing much to say, either. he opens his mouth to try, a few times, but nothing comes out. so instead he sits, in silence, for hours. in this cemetery, in the cold, watching the moisture get trapped in the tupperware container, watching raindrops slide down the bottle. time doesn't really have much meaning out here. but what really does, he thinks? and then he laughs quietly to himself.
don't be so dramatic, jiaoqiu. ]
no subject
one of those paths leads him through a graveyard. and on this normal, chilly, wet day, he spots something unusual - a bright flash of pink in the middle of all of that gray. a familiar flash of pink. is that... the doctor?
he's not going to pry, not really. therion doesn't have ghosts or people to mourn - he's not a heathen, he doesn't pickpocket people in the graveyard - so he heads down a path and ignores it the first time, off to run his errands. an hour later, however, when he comes back across the path, jiaoqiu is still there.
and three hours later, when he's run through the rich quarter of town and jiaoqiu is still there, he turns in a different direction entirely.
there's something so - lonely, about it. and while grief isn't familiar, loneliness is, in a clawing, aching way that he'd never, ever admit to. therion doesn't think like that. what he tells himself is that he's pretty sure he's going to catch his death, and it's a pain in the ass, and what kind of idiot sits out in the rain for hours at a time, and that's how he finds himself coming back with an umbrella over his head, his hoodie pulled up high, and stops to stand behind jiaoqiu soundlessly.
the rain over jiaoqiu stops, all of a sudden, replace with the soft sound of pattering over stretched canvas on an umbrella, and a voice breaks through. ]
You really gonna make me tell you you're going to catch your death out here?
[ his tone is resigned in the way therion has to be resigned, in the way he grouses, as he looks down at jiaoqiu. he's caught shades of this side of him, here and there, in the short time that they've known each other, and glancing at the gravestones, he can put the pieces together, but he saves jiaoqiu the question of "what the hell do you think you're doing". he doens't have much experience with grief. it doesn't mean he doesn't know what it looks like. ]
no subject
feixiao, moze. same day death dates. a while back - years ago, but not far enough for it to be a memory.
at first, he doesn't even notice the fact that he's no longer getting rained on. there's no sound, there's no sensation, just the slow, steady drip of condensation down the side of the glass bottle to the dirt below. he can't drag his eyes away from it. everything else around him is blurred out, unimportant. just the stark, unmoving stone in front of him. he wonders, if he puts his hand out and touched the stone, would it burn? would it be cold? would it feel like anything at all? is that because of the cold numbing his skin, or is it because his body no longer exists? does it even matter?
and then there's a voice, and he blinks. his eyes hurt. he'd probably been staring for way too long. the sound of the rain is suddenly very, harshly loud in his ears, the patter against the umbrella distorted. his ear flicks.
jiaoqiu looks up, and is very, very surprised to see therion, of all people. is it actually him? why would he be here? a beat. ]
I haven't been out here that long.
[ maybe like fifteen minutes, right? ]
no subject
he scoffs. it's loud, probably a little jarring. ]
Yeah? I had enough time to go halfway across town and come back. Twice. It's almost dark.
[ it sounds like he wants to add an insult at the end there, typical therion behavior, but he stops himself at the last second, and just frowns down at him instead, harsher than he means to, always sharper than he means to, but it's not like he's ever known anything any better. it's almost dark, idiot. you've been out here for hours, idiot.
silence passes for a second. two. he stares down, and then jerks his head. ] Get up.
[ it's not a request, really. if he doesn't start to move, therion will reach down to put his hand - hesitate - put his hand on his arm. ]
no subject
he can hear therion scolding him, which is funny, in a way. jiaoqiu has scolded him a few times, don't move too fast, you'll open your stitches. eat something, you're too skinny. come here, you have blood on your collar, come here, let me wipe your mouth -- he remembers doing it, but it feels sticky and slow, trying to pull up the way it felt. it's almost dark? but it wasn't. he just got here, and it was mid-morning. he would've noticed the sun going down.
... it's almost dark. huh.
jiaoqiu doesn't get up at first, content to ignore therion. but the hand on his arm gets his attention. therion is touching him. he needs something, probably, which means he shouldn't sit here anymore, really. his ear flicks again. there's a part of him that wants to answer, or what? but the words never get past his lips. he just smiles his usual, and then looks back at the gravestones. ]
You'll have to forgive me. [ he says to them, softer, barely heard above the rain. ] I can't stay. What a relief, hm?
[ and then he slowly stands up. it seems like a lot of effort to do so, like his knees hurt from kneeling in the dirt for hours. because they do. ]
no subject
the grip on his arm is firm, but it’s not hard. he looks at the grave as he pulls him to his feet, reading the names and the dates and the distance, or the lack thereof. never being attached to anyone has its perks, he thinks to himself, quietly sardonic even as he’s the one to make sure jiaoqiu’a fully covered by the umbrella no matter how drenched he is. ]
Come on. [ nothing gentle, but he pulls him along. away from the two little gravestones and the offerings, away from the past. if he walked here, drove here, it doesn’t matter - they’re walking now. with a purpose, heading back for the apartment where jiaoqiu lives. the umbrella stays over his head the entire time. ]
no subject
it isn't even really against his will. he doesn't mind existence. he likes his job. he likes food. more than anything, he likes that. the process of cooking, the feeling of a knife in his hand, the soft clunks of the metal hitting the wood of a cutting board, sliding chopped vegetables into a pot, the click click click of the flame in his oven turning on. the rumble of the refrigerator, the suction noise when he opens the door and the icy air hits his face. sensation. he likes all of those things. liked? no. likes. it's just hard to grasp it, sometimes. like smoke.
lately he's liked when therion is around, too. that seems a little dangerous, so he veers away from the thought.
gentleness isn't what he needs, he thinks, so this is fine. they walk away from the gravestones, and jiaoqiu looks up at the umbrella. his footsteps make wet, splashy noises. his tail is soaked. his fur feels disgusting, he's cold. across the street, there's a rosebush in someone's yard, and the color stands out. purples, pinks. greens. there's green, and slightly in front of him is black, a wraith with white hair, dragging him along with purpose.
absently, jiaoqiu takes therion's hand in his own. almost experimentally, staring down at them like he's expecting something.
whatever it is, it doesn't happen, so he lets go. but he keeps walking, and doesn't even mention what he just did. his apartment is around the corner, on the fourth floor. ]
no subject
therion's never, in his entire memory, had someone hold his hand. not when he was a tiny child, wandering through the streets at darius' heels, and not as an adult. never once has he known an affectionate touch - not a mother's hug, a father's hair ruffle, a tender kiss from a lover, and the experimental little hold grabs his heart and twists it like a dishrag.
in the experimental two seconds, he's torn between ripping his hand away and grabbing onto it more desperately, which is pathetic, and he doesn't even realize the instinct for what it is. did jiaoqiu need it? did he want it? therion doesn't glance back because he's still trudging forward, because someone has to, because at least if he has to drag jiaoqiu kicking and screaming, at least he'd show some kind of sign of life.
so he makes a noise. a grunt. shakes his head quickly, and then grabs his hand again as opposed to his arm. fine. unlike jiaoqiu, his hand is dry, and he probably grips a little too tightly, but he stomps ahead to pull him along like that, holding his dumb, stupid hand and grousing internally about it like it didn't (despite everything) make the backs of his ears turn so red it's visible through his hair.
whatever!!!!!
the apartment's familiar by now. he found it the second time he came over, let alone the third, fourth, fifth - a skittish feral cat taking tentative meals from a bowl - and as they slosh into the apartment's lobby floor, he finally lets go of his hand to shut his umbrella and shake it out over the rug, then drags him to the elevator, all the way until they're at his door. ]
Keys. [ one word. he holds out his hand. otherwise he'll just pick the lock, is implied, if he can't do it, but it's freaking him out to see jiaoqiu drifting so badly. a mechanical task is better than nothing. ]
no subject
therion's ears are red, he notes distantly as they walk. it's a nice contrast. the sound of the rain is almost deafening, as he stares for a while, but then his eyes get caught by the way the number changes on the elevator screen. one, two, three, four.
when they reach the door, finally, it takes him a second to respond. but he's not so far gone that he doesn't understand, so he reaches into his pocket and hands therion the keys to his apartment without thinking twice. there's something wrong with you, therion had said that first time, when he'd offered his house to a man with a knife. it's kind of funny to jiaoqiu, because therion had no idea how true that was.
into the apartment they go. and then, after a moment, something clicks. oh. right, this makes sense. what did therion need, he thinks, that he went out of his way to bring him back to jiaoqiu's apartment? he's got it now.
so when the door closes, jiaoqiu shuffles forward, and nudges therion against the wall - doesn't let go of his hand, but instead tugs at therion's belt with his free one. ]
no subject
his first reaction is tense, like a startled animal, because when he's not expecting it, his first instinct is always an attack, and as he's set to the wall, he looks down and that tenseness quickly changes to absolutely flabbergasted as it clicks what the fuck jiaoqiu's trying to actually do. does he understand it? the action, yes. the reasoning? absolutely fucking not. he looks down at jiaoqiu's hand. ]
No. What? [ what the fuck. therion slaps his hand away from his belt and looks back up at him, the confusion turning to a "what the fuck" scowl. ] What the hell are you doing. You're pathetic right now.
[ just. completely rude but what else is new. he lets go of his hand and puts both of his on his chest, starting to push him into the apartment, instead, then thinks better of it in case he gets any implications, and points in the direction of where he knows his bedroom is. ]
Take your shoes off and go change your clothes. Or - go get in the shower. Pick one.
no subject
but he's not thinking about that, because he's trying to get therion's belt undone, and - is thwarted? that doesn't make any sense, and for a second jiaoqiu looks at therion with a blank look. no? that's not what he wanted? huh.
jiaoqiu should be embarrassed, but he isn't. the emotion gets stuck somewhere. it's like watching a computer stutter, the way he tries to process therion pushing him further into the apartment. weird is the wrong word. it's not weird, that therion is directing him, telling him to go change, to go shower. it's not unexpected either, because there would have had to be some sort of expectation to begin with for there to be anything to be surprised by. mostly, it just doesn't feel real. like he's imagining all of this, sitting at the gravestones, letting his thoughts get away from him.
a beat, as he stands in the middle of the hallway between his bedroom and bathroom, dripping water and mud onto the floor. and then without any hesitation he brings his hand up to his mouth and bites it, as hard as he can, sinks his fangs into the meat of his palm.
that's one way to test if he's real or not. ]
no subject
to therion, looking at him from behind, it looks like he's just stopped, again. he makes another noise that sounds irritated but lacks any actual heat and stalks behind him, silently, reaching out to set both hands on his back to give him a push -
but the sight of what he's doing stops him from going that far, and he says, kind of sharply, almost at a loss, ] Jiaoqiu.
[ rare, for him to use his name. it's always nicknames, doc and fluff and pinky, medicine man. but for as much as he tries to hide it, therion is the kind of person who feels deep and emotional, and he can't quite school his expression back from shock and concern, from over his shoulder at the sight. his hands falter where he was going to push, and he's left just kind of standing with him like a shadow, hands touching his wet back, ignoring the wet, awful feeling of his tail for now. he's not sure what he's asking him to do, or what not to do. he's just - doing something. doing something badly, probably, but what else is new.
his hands are warm. warm and familiar, if nothing else. ]
no subject
a beat. he pulls his hand from his mouth, and looks at the blood gathering there, and then sucks in a breath. it hurts. that's good.
jiaoqiu looks over his shoulder at therion, gold eyes open and tired, but - there's something there. he's awake. silence, for a long moment, and then he leans into the hand on his back. takes the warmth. ]
... Ah.
[ is all he can manage at first, because the world is so loud. he can hear himself breathing. ]
Sorry. Yes?
no subject
therion's instincts are dead-on, but he couldn't realize how much - it's coming back to him now as he just stares at him, searches his face for something that he's not sure of. an explanation? a light? that's there, at least, some sense of consciousness that he's not shown in this entire walk over here. his mouth opens, closes, like he wants to say something. what does he even say? what are you doing? you freaked me out? are you okay?
he doesn't know. he never does. therion exhales, noisily instead, feeling the urge to scrub his hand through his hair and resisting it, feeling him lean back against his hand. god. okay. he gives him another little nudge to make him walk forward, and walks with him to the bathroom, his hand remaining there, at the small of his back. it's too much moving, too rough, unable to handle this like - like a normal person should, maybe, unable to express his concern in a way that isn't violence. ]
Just - sit.
[ aborted, but he gestures him over to where the toilet is. ] And turn the water on.
[ and then he pulls away from him again, but it's to grab a washcloth and shove it in his hands, onto the spot where he bit the meat of his palm, and then to start rifling through jiaoqiu's cabinets. noisily as opposed to his usual silence, banging around until he finds what he's looking for, opening doors and closing them. he at least knows where some of this shit is, because they've been in this exact sort of situation, if in reverse, and he comes out of the cabinets a couple of seconds later with a tube of disinfecting ointment and a couple of bandages. ]
no subject
feixiao told him once that she was never scared of him because when they first met, he was saving her life. she told him she never understood why people found him slightly unsettling, or lifeless, or suspicious. he'd just smiled, because she didn't understand how impossible it was to be nothing when she was so very bright in his presence. moze saw it, sometimes. in the quiet of a tent, bandaging wounds mechanically. it only happened once. and then jiaoqiu made sure to never let the nothingness swallow him up again, not while moze was alive.
he watches therion slam around in his cabinets, wincing slightly at the noise. it feels like it's inside his skull. but it feels good, he thinks, or at least, it feels, and he needs that. carefully, jiaoqiu turns and flips the faucet on, watches the water hit the tile. he's a little sluggish, but this time he doesn't get caught staring. instead, he sits down, and makes a face. his clothes are awful.
therion will find him pressing a claw into one of the fang marks when he returns, though he stops when he sees therion. a beat. ]
Therion.
[ he says, and his voice is a little hoarse. he instinctively reaches - for therion? for the bandages and disinfecting ointment? both? maybe. and then his hand falters and falls back into his lap. ]
... So I am awake. My apologies. You can go if you'd like. I'm not in any danger.
no subject
[ wow. no hesitation on that one. he drops down to his knees in front of him - a familiar position, but in an entirely different context - and bats his other hand away from the injured one, out of the way. that's all this is, similar scenario, new context, with therion the one trying to take care instead of being scolded, as clumsily as he does. he glances up at this sopping wet, pathetic looking creature and feels a whole host of emotions, annoyed and concerned and something else - attached, the worst emotion in the entire world - and then annoyed again.
but despite his frown, he carries on. he's cleaned his own injuries hundreds of times. he patched himself up after darius threw him off of a cliff in a whole other city, dragged himself out of ditches and alleys and everything in between, so it's not that its unfamiliar. but he knows what hurts on him and what doesn't, and when jiaoqiu reaches, he meets him halfway and holds the injured hand in his own smaller one, then takes out the disinfectant and puts it on for him. then the bandages - open package, peel the paper with his teeth, and press down, stick the material to his skin. methodical, correct, clumsy, but careful - it's a tiny bandage, its hard to fuck up - and despite it all, his hold on jiaoqiu's hand so it doesn't move is surprisingly gentle.
so i am awake. that answers some things and nothing at the same time. he scowls down at his hand as he finishes with it, satisfied with his bandage job, then looks up at him, and lets go, pushing himself back up. ]
Take your clothes off and get in. You look like a drowned rat.
no subject
it's been a very long time since anybody has made an effort to take care of him like this. in fact, jiaoqiu can't think of the last time. it's almost a brand new experience to watch therion to drop down between his legs and... bandage him, instead of... well. there's care in the movement. jiaoqiu gets lost, sometimes, he sinks away, but he's not so bad at reading people. and therion is not so incredibly difficult to read, in his opinion. he sits obediently, lets therion methodically patch up the wound jiaoqiu caused.
and just sort of very gently dislodges his uninjured hand from therion's so he can rest his hand on the side of therion's face. he does it with the same amount of care therion puts into sticking the bandage to his hand. like, maybe surprisingly gentle. he strokes therion's cheek with his thumb.
being told to shut up or that he looks like a drowned rat doesn't seem to offend him at all, he just takes it in stride. he'll let therion get up though, and he'll look over at the shower. okay. right. clothes need to come off. start small. shirt first. ]
no subject
right. that threw him so off guard he forgot what he was doing next, which thank god jiaoqiu starts dawdling on his clothes. despite the fact that it looked like three seconds ago he was going to bolt, he does not do that. instead, he rounds back on jiaoqiu and grabs the bottom of his shirt to unceremoniously yank it over his head and off of him with absolutely zero mercy. it is wet and cold and probably deeply unpleasant but it makes therion feel better about that interaction because he's going to die of embarrassment otherwise.
once it's off, he takes it from him and wrings it out in the sink for something to do with his hands, heart pounding hard against his ribcage. god. stupid. he's sooo cool. ]
no subject
but here's the thing - therion turning bright red makes him smile, and even though it's small and exhausted and thin, it isn't one of his fake ones. it's something genuine. his heart is thudding in his ears, the shower water hits the tub and the pounding of the water pressure pricks at his skin, and he's watching someone react to his hands. once upon a time, he knew how to be gentle. it's like riding a bike, giving it to someone who probably needs it far more than he does.
jiaoqiu's not stupid. he doesn't think much of himself, but he's seen the way therion carries himself. skittish. like he's been hurt before, more than anything. it makes something in him ache. something he can't quite access, but feels like maybe he wants to.
a pause. ]
... Will you help me in?
[ he doesn't ever ask for help. he doesn't like to. he's not helpless. but also, if he's alone he's going to crawl right back into that blank nothingness, and he knows he's not supposed to do that. so he's trying. ]
no subject
well, okay. jiaoqiu making that disgruntled noise makes him feel more on balance again. good. serves him right!! for what? who knows! he takes the soaking wet shirt and hangs it up on a towel rack so it can dry out for now, back turned to jiaoqiu - a small hint of trust even in and of itself.
he's grumbling under his breath - stupid fucking fox, at least, is probably enough to be picked out by sensitive ears, but he pauses when jiaoqiu addresses him again. and after a long moment, he looks over his shoulder, expression softening more than he really means for it to, looking more acutely surprised before it evens back out, and there's a little nod.
so, he shifts a little where he's standing, and nods, then comes back over. the disheveled messy fur look is worse than the drowned rat angle in a different manner entirely, and in a different situation he'd probably laugh at him for it. instead, therion takes his hands to pull him up. there's a lot of lithe strength in his body, and he pulls jiaoqiu up with relative ease and pushes the shower curtain back, then steps to the side. he doesn't need to shed his clothes to help him into the shower.
so he helps, wordlessly, because he doesn't trust himself to say something and not fuck up what he is being handed, which feels like a moment of deep, deep vulnerability. the water's hot, hot. he knows jiaoqiu well enough by now (when did that happen?) to know he probably wants it scalding. ]
no subject
as they stand, jiaoqiu holds onto therion. he's thin and wiry, but pretty strong, maybe deceptively so. he's not going to be winning any arm wrestling contests for sure, but he is present, and his grip isn't feeble. for a moment, before he steps into the tub, he just stands, gripping at therion's arm. he's careful not to dig his claws into therion's skin as he kicks his shoes and pants off. underwear can stay. not like therion hasn't seen him naked, but the idea of being physically naked on top of everything else makes him nauseated.
there's something in him that is wildly uncomfortable with this, with letting therion this close in multiple ways, but - he doesn't stop it from happening. he doesn't stop himself from reaching, from holding on. in fact, he moves a little closer even, resting his head against therion's shoulder briefly. maybe it's survival instinct, which is funny because he's pretty sure he lost that a long time ago, or maybe it's something else. his head is absolutely not in the right place to sort through why he stays. but it is trust. it's trust the same way that therion allowed jiaoqiu to see his back. he recognizes that much.
the water is hot. he does like it scalding, and he knows that it is because he can see the steam. he likes that therion knows, and there's another crunchy, horrible feeling in his chest. ice cracking, glass shattering, the sound of tires backing out over a dirt path. gritty. things that would be painful if the object in question wasn't inanimate. a beat, and he drags in a breath that sounds a little painful, ears pinning down against his skull. and then he lets go of therion and climbs into the tub.
he actually mutters ow when the water hits his skin. he's cold, and it kind of thaws him out. ]
no subject
he pulls the curtain shut for him with finality afterwards, and thank god for it, because it gives therion a second to just - compose himself. to do something. to try and understand the thousands of feelings rattling around in his ribcage, a mix of negative and positive and heavy, so, so heavy that he's not sure how to hold it. he takes a silent breath, still holding the shower curtain, frozen in a moment of decision.
jiaoqiu's little "ow" gets him to mutter - ] 's what you get. [ just loud enough to be heard, a little hysterical if he barely shows it. there's a beat of quiet. of shower water hitting porcelain hitting a soft body. silence.
he thinks about how easily he could fall, drifting out into nothingness. about the need to be anchored. and how fucking bad therion of all people is at being an anchor.
and then there's movement - just visible through steam, the silhouette of lifting his arms, blurry and not quite there, and then, and then -- and then the shower curtain opens again, this time with a little less finality, and therion slips in quietly behind jiaoqiu, his heart thudding hard with his choice, also only stripped down to his underwear. he's willingly trapping himself in here (he's going to help, clumsily and stupidly, but he's going to help.) if jiaoqiu says anything about it he might die, so luckily he can't acknowledge too much beyond the fact that the first thing therion says is a hissed, ] -- Fuck.
[ FUCK THAT WATER IS HOT!!! ]
no subject
therion will leave, and come back when jiaoqiu's mask is back in place, and it'll be the same as ever.
only, the shower curtain opens again. jiaoqiu startles, giving therion a wide-eyed look. he almost does say something about it, but then there's that little fuck as therion gets blasted by hot water, and jiaoqiu laughs. it's small, and a little gaspy, but it's a laugh.
and after a moment, he shifts, blocking therion off from the worst of the spray. he can't turn around, he doesn't think either of them would handle that well. but he does lean back, and he rests his back to therion's front, tail shifting to slink down out of the way the best it can. carefully, one hand comes back around to rest on therion's arm, keeping him where he is.
maybe therion thinks he's bad at being an anchor, but jiaoqiu has been so lost at sea for so long that even something just floating by is a relief. ]
If you need me to turn it down... [ he says, with a half smile, closing his eyes. ]
no subject
Shut up, furball. [ GRUMBLING
this kind of normalcy helps! it helps. because this is something he's never actually done, shared such an intimately vulnerable moment with another person - even just down to sharing a shower. (part of this is because he's never actually lived somewhere with a shower that had more than two minutes of hot water, but that's besides the point.) so it takes a second, but he brings one rough hand around and sets it on his hip and just leaves it there, letting the hand on his arm stay.
...staying, himself. an unusual thing to say the least. therion's a ghost in his own right - sometimes he skips town for days at a time, vanishes in and out of the city just to be somewhere else, but for the moment, he's settled here, and... for the moment, it seems like maybe jiaoqiu's starting to come back to earth, too. so. maybe it's worth it. he got him to laugh. if he'd been paying more attention and not spazzing out, he might've seen that genuine smile, too, but that laugh will stick in his head hours from now, and though he'll berate himself internally about it, that won't make it go away.
god. therion exhales out because he doesn't know what the fuck else to do with himself at the moment, sort of a grumbly sigh like he is deeply put upon - a gesture by now that jiaoqiu likely knows is bullshit. ]
no subject
he knows better than to overeat, but he's starving, and he can't help but grab for more and more, even though he knows it's going to make him sick, that it's going to shock his body.
jiaoqiu rests his hand on top of therion's. he listens to therion grumble, and his fingers clench a little, like he wants to slide them between therion's on his hip, but he doesn't. the water is hot and he is present, which is new, considering the date. most times, this date is a blur from start to finish.
very softly, like he wants the water to drown him out: ]
Will you stay for dinner?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)