[ oh... kiss. okay. well. he's. not going to complain about it, not really. even though the wilder part of this has settled down now, there's something about that sweet, shameless gesture of affection that makes his stupid heart do a stupid backflip, and the feeling is so familiar and so new that he feels like he could choke on it. he does not, even though he probably should - blame it on the afterglow, maybe, the sense that maybe he can let himself have something sweet.
the five minutes give him time to settle back down. he's tired, now - all of the adrenaline of the day is starting to melt out of his body. a few hours ago, he was fighting for his life against a couple of thugs who were pissed at him for getting the drop, and now he's here, in a warm bed, with a warm person, hazily coming down from a good orgasm and for once, relaxed. his eyes, good and bad, flutter shut.
of course, then jiaoqiu speaks. he doesn't open his eyes, but he snorts, and drawls: ]
Oops.
[ have you ever heard someone be less repentant in your life. clearly he is not even remotely sorry for this. why would he be. not for making him irresponsible, and definitely not for making it hard for him to walk. maybe he'd be more sorry if he actually meant it!
he should get up. he's sticky and pleasantly sore, but that hand acts like a tether, and he very absently plays with a piece of his pink hair between his fingers - freezes, when he moves, brow knitting together in the oversensitivity of friction, and then exhales out again, letting himself come back down the peg he was about to ratchet back up to.
and...when his tail lashes, therion scratches him behind the ear. because he is a brat. ]
[ grumble grumble. he should bite him again, but he doesn't.
instead, he leans into the hand playing with his hair, letting himself become liquid. the scritching behind the ear feels... really good... and he's just sleep stupid enough to arch into it. embarrassing!! therion is going to have another like seven reasons to make fun of him, but. he spends another good couple of minutes just letting therion pet him like a dog. whatever, who cares, he's already made a fool of himself as is.
his bones feel like mush, after two orgasms and a lot of feelings that he's not used to feeling, and what he wants to do is just fall asleep here. nothing would be better than pinning his stupid patient to the bed so he can't get up and run away in the middle of the night. the lizard brain that is still a little in charge thinks maybe if you don't let him pull out of you he'll have to stay forever, and that is actually what gets him to groan and sit up. stop that, don't be ridiculous.
again, the shift makes him wince - sorry, he accidentally claws at therion's hand a bit where he's still holding, but. he lets therion slide out of him and absolutely makes a face, ears pinning back. a beat, as he adjusts, feeling like he could crawl out of his skin a bit, and then he slowly rolls over to the edge of the bed with another groan.
mumbles something about his back. ow. but he's gotta get up and clean himself up or he's going to regret it. ]
[ yeah he will be filing that away for later. jiaoqiu's lucky he didn't get a "who's a good boy."
at any rate - there he goes. the feeling as jiaoqiu pulls free is both overstimulating and very sticky, and there's a definitive and immediate loss of warmth - therion's nose wrinkles, but he doesn't react beyond pulling a face, and definitely does not react to the claws. he lets jiaoqiu remove himself and inhales, feeling the weight lifted off of him and for once not finding it a sensation of relief.
he's still plenty aware of where all of his limbs are no matter how fucked out he is - too many years of being on guard means you're never quite all the way off of it, but he does prop himself up on his good arm to glance down at himself and the mess left behind, including down at his hand. little pinpricks where jiaoqiu's claws scratched left behind little white marks, a proof, a reminder that he was there, that that phantom sensation of his fingers between his own wasn't just a misplaced memory or, gods forbid, some kind of mid-sex daydream. no, it was reality, and he stares at it for a long beat. curls his fingers. opens them again.
by the time jiaoqiu gets up to clean himself up, therion's gaze sweeps over his back, and his expression is... complicated. more vulnerable than usual, maybe. something hopeful. something a little scared. something overcomplicated and messy by his own anxieties and his own experiences, and it takes him way too long to shake it off, making a grumpy noise to himself. while jiaoqiu is probably like, doing nice things to get himself at least kind of cleaned up, therion leans over the edge of the bed, and feels around lazily for his shirt. this makes an acceptable rag? this is what he's going to clean himself off with if jiaoqiu doesn't get back here fast enough. ]
[ if he cleans himself up with his shirt jiaoqiu is going to scream with his mouth closed
no, he hobbles off to his bathroom to get washcloths, doing a lazy little clinical once-over so he's not... leaking everywhere... and then comes back about a minute later with clean, wet cloths. the second he sees therion with his shirt in hand, he makes a protesting noise. no!!
he doesn't bother speaking, he just makes his way over to the bed and grabs therion's shirt and throws it back on the ground. tail lashing wildly, jiaoqiu huffs and pushes therion back down onto the bed, climbing over him. there's a bit of wincing as he does, because he actually is sore, and just because he likes the pain doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. his pain tolerance is not nearly as efficient as therion's.
regardless though, he settles sitting up next to therion, and very gently starts to clean him up. the washcloths are warm and damp, and jiaoqiu is very thorough. he rubs at the mess over therion's stomach and thighs, does a sweep over the length of him, and then his hands, making a little tsk sound at the pinpricks he left behind. cleans the bites he left behind. it's a little no-nonsense, but more than anything, it's... well, it's affectionate. there's very obviously care behind every motion, and his expression is at ease. this is probably reinforced by the fact that jiaoqiu also checks his bandages to make sure he didn't fuck anything up while railing jiaoqiu to next sunday.
the vulnerability is not lost on him. he sees it. it's why with each pass of the washcloth he glides his fingers over the skin he just cleaned. it's his tail settled on therion's thigh, it's one ear flopped out lazily with the other still pointing up. it's leaning down to press a kiss to where his fangs left an imprint, lingering. little reminders. opening therion up to what he plans to do next, slowly easing him into intimacy. ]
[ wow he doesn't even get to really protest!! that doesn't mean he doesn't try, though, complaining at first when he tosses his shirt (rude) and then sputters a little as he's pushed back - he can clean himself, what the fuck - and then repeatedly making more complaining noises and squirming around in protest until jiaoqiu starts actually cleaning him up. the washcloth is not cold, and it's - it's just a lot? it's a lot of tenderness that he is very not used to, and therion's face starts to flood with color, until he's finally forced to shut his mouth and stop bitching for like five seconds.
embarrassed! he's embarrassed. he doesn't have to do any of this, and yet, there is some part of him that's dying for this kind of touch, somewhere between needing it and trying to reject it all the same. by the time jiaoqiu's at his hands, there's the faintest tremor when he holds it, which he quickly shakes off, and huffs, rolls his eyes to the ceiling like he is just utterly put upon. ]
Could've warned me you were going to groom me, fluff. [ therion grumbles, making a pathetic attempt at making fun of him for acting an animal that lacks any heat or bite because he is clearly so affected that he's having trouble keeping a lid on it, that the soft kiss to his shoulder makes him suck in a breath and then release it, trying so hard to keep his cool. it doesn't work.
the intention is not lost on him, is the thing. he's not stupid. he's just critically incapable of handling a single nice thing, because he's never actually had one. ]
because he knows therion needs it. he knows therion needs someone to be kind to him without strings. jiaoqiu is not the perfect person for any of this, and he's not patient and he's not selfless, he really isn't. in fact, he's got no way of knowing when this energy is going to run out - when he's going to burn out again. but this comes easy. this is something he wants to do, and it's so much easier to show than to tell. so therion squirms and protests, and jiaoqiu doesn't fight him, but he does not quit. and eventually therion just lets him do it, which makes jiaoqiu very pleased with himself.
the flush on his face is sort of cute. jiaoqiu smiles - really, he just makes a :3 face - and takes the bites in stride. it's hard to be insulted when therion's basically shaking. unfortunately for therion, jiaoqiu is not planning on giving him any breaks here. ]
You need it. [ he says, tail swishing. ] I wouldn't need to groom you if I didn't just watch you wipe all of your fluids on my bedsheets.
[ a beat. he pulls back a little, throws the washcloth over his shoulder to the floor, and then climbs over therion so he can curl up against his side. he tucks himself under therion's uninjured arm, all but a demand to hold him, and rests his head against therion's shoulder.
he doesn't have to be nice. jiaoqiu still wants this. ]
My fluids. I know exactly where my fluids went. You're the one that made the mess.
[ gross don't keep talking about it
anyway this is just more of his complaining for the sake of complaint, and maybe also to save his dignity a little bit. he has to complain while jiaoqiu is tenderly taking care of him because he just might rattle out of his fucking skin otherwise, and he will be digging his fingernails into the remains of his dignity for the rest of his life. by the time he's done he's feeling simultaneously embarrassed and exasperated, but the thread of relaxed is still there, and the thread of adrenaline from earlier has finally come down to almost nothing.
as jiaoqiu stuffs himself under his arm, he snorts, rolls his eyes, but after a second, lets his arm drop there, draping it over his shoulders, fingers lightly curled against his chest. he can almost feel jiaoqiu's heartbeat. ]
You're sticky. [ more grumbling for the sake of grumbling, considering he adjusts a little bit to makes sure he's not getting a mouthful of hair or fur, and his cheek plunks onto his head. all of those feelings, all of those activities - he is tired. ]
[ help he laughs at this, huffing and hiding it against therion's chest. ]
And who's fault is that, hm? [ therion made him sticky!! ] I could make you do my laundry.
[ but he doesn't mind, right now, and they're not getting up. now that he's curled up, he's exhausted too. he closes his eyes, and flops his tail over therion. claims him, a bit. ]
If I were to shower now, I'd drown. [ he hums, tracing a pattern over therion's chest with a claw. maybe it's silly, but he's... kind of working himself up, trying to convince himself to reach for therion's hand. he liked holding it. and since he's about overindulging himself to the point of getting sick tonight, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to just...
his ear flicks out of the way so it's not directly in therion's face. ] Tomorrow, you can join me.
[ nyeh!!! he WILL dye your clothes pink on purpose. does he know how to use a - no i'm kidding he at least knows how to use a laundromat.
as jiaoqiu settles on him, it's that same warm, weighted feeling from before. intense, this time, but in a different way - just intense in that the human contact lights up old synpases somewhere in the back of his mind, flickering old things that have long sense turned off. it's a lot, and it's not enough all at once, and he's keenly aware of the flopped tail, the placement of jiaoqiu's limbs. his heart hammering away in his chest.
this is all new for him. this never happened, not once, no matter how much he was ten and wanted it, twelve and wanted it, fourteen and wanted it, sixteen and decided he didn't need it. being held, being trapped here feels less like being trapped than it probably should, and though the thought crosses his mind and makes his stomach squirm when jiaoqiu says "tomorrow", he keeps it to himself, keeps it off of his face. when jiaoqiu's fingers curl over his chest like that, his heart jumps, embarrassingly - it leaves goosebumps.
he's quiet for a long moment. tomorrow. ]
You're not going to let me leave, are you. [ it's not phrased like a question, but it's not harsh, either. it's playing into what was just before, fussy complaining that amounts to nothing, even if it's a little scarier than that.
and what a contradiction from just a second ago. 'you can't make me' and 'you won't let me leave'. like maybe it doesn't feel like something he has to obey. ]
[ he says, finally. he doesn't look at therion, just keeps his eyes closed. it's fussy complaining, sure, it's meant to be pigtail pulling, but he takes it sincerely. his hand goes still, and he just rests it over therion's heart. his fingertips rest over the bandages he put in place not even two hours ago. ]
I will never force you to be here, as much as I enjoy your presence. Go where you please, do what you will.
[ the idea of him vanishing without a trace makes his heart feel like it'll crack in two. the idea of having human contact ripped from him again, of losing one more person - he thinks that it might actually kill him this time. or maybe it won't. maybe he'll just continue on like he always has, because she told him to live and he can do that, bare minimum. husks are technically alive, breathing. he can keep going until his organs fail him. maybe he'll be the first natural-made mara-struck foxian.
that's too much to put on therion. his presence in this world is too much of a burden to rest on anybody's shoulders, so he doesn't say it, doesn't even imply it. therion can go, without any guilt - he'll just fade back out, no fuss.
this is - a lot. the sincerity is a lot. first of all, jiaoqiu can feel therion's heart thundering, the pace jolting up the second he doesn't take the silly banter for silly banter, can feel the treacherous way his heart skips. it could be a fear response, it could be something else. even he's not really sure which. it's just...
therion's freedom is so important to him because it's all he's ever known. sure, it has its downsides. he's never had a place of safety to come back to for long. he's never had a harbor to moor in. he's got a place here that he pays for under the table in cash, but it's shitty and small and full of holes. he has no identification, no connections - he doesn't even have a last name. but, beyond that, it has his ability to simply leave. to follow where his feet want to take him - to continue to be unknown, a lone wolf prowling around the edges of society, unmoored and free to fly where he pleases, free to take what he wants and never gets caught. connections have only ever brought him strife, until... until now. and that's part of what's so scary about it, to think that maybe if he got attached, even if things didn't go badly, then he'd still be attached, and isn't that just terrifying?
go where you please, and do what you will. it's what he already does. it's the second clause that he's never really had before. he's reminded again of earlier. if you are cold, come to my bed. if you're hungry, let me feed you. what is it like to be wanted - and not just on a poster?
he swallows, hard, around what have to be butterflies. therion knows that feeling, unfortunately, knows it only leads to sorrow. and after a long moment, he says, a little hoarsely, almost lamely: ]
You're supposed to say "no."
[ as in "no, i'm not going to let you leave", as if it was just silly banter because at first, that's the only thing he can think of to say. obviously he didn't do that. and now therion's sitting here, having feelings about it, turning pink out to his ears and feeling like he's about to free fall again. this time, it's not even because he's being pushed. ]
[ he can hear therion's heart going a million miles an hour, and he does feel a little bad about that, but there's nothing he can do now. it's out there. something in him tells him to keep pressing, to try and drag something genuine out, but he's tired, and just as broken. there's an uncertainty in him that he doesn't want to pay any attention to, so he buries it in the graveyard dirt and looks away from it.
it's scary to receive affection, for therion - and it's scary to offer it, for jiaoqiu. maybe he should stop going off script before he really does get sick.
a huff. ]
... Mm, right. Then - no. I'm afraid you're trapped here forever.
[ there's that sort of yawning void of nothing behind his words, even with the little smile on his face. ]
[ coward. he thinks it to himself, at first. you fucking coward. it's less about jiaoqiu and more about himself, and for some reason, it's that little smile of nothingness that gets him.
i hope jiaoqiu wasn't too comfortable because there's movement - a flurry of it, suddenly, because he rolls over and with more energy than he should really have, pins either hand on either side of jiaoqiu's stupid fluffy head and stares down at him. doing this agitates the injury on his shoulder, but he ignores it, gripping the still torn bedsheets, feeling this spark of - something? he doesn't know what. anger? frustration? it's something and it's so vibrant and loud that he doesn't know how to deal with it, and so he always defaults to anger.
but he doesn't hurt jiaoqiu - he would never, and so he white knuckles the bedsheets and stares down at him instead. ]
Do you want something, or not?
[ sharp - fierce. this is completely irrational, because therion is the one who had a reaction, therion is the one who panicked, and it feels bad and awful but somehow seeing that fucking nothingness smile feels like, a hundred times worse. to offer him something like that and then - no, it doesn't matter that it's irrational, because he can't stare back into the abyss that easily and fall. ]
[ it startles the hell out of him, actually, and instinct means when therion flips them he gets his claws in. instinct means that, for all he lets most things happen to him, there's something about this that triggers a fight response, makes him grab at therion's shoulders and push away, leaning away from his mouth. for a second therion will see genuine fear on his face, but it really is not because of therion at all. he's somewhere else, a million miles away, breath catching wrong. ]
[ ... but the hurt doesn't come. there's anger there, but it isn't cruel and it isn't wrapped up in a grin, it isn't the face of someone that ripped into him and drank his fill. it's fine. it's fine. it's therion, and his far-away look cracks, and in an instant, vanishes. he's fine.
silence. jiaoqiu drops his hands. pretends like that didn't happen. ]
... It. [ clears his throat. ] It seems unfair to put the ball back in my court, so to speak, when I don't even know where your court is.
he - just immediately, he backs off, he immediately pulls back. for once, his expression is not so stoic, the anger completely gone in the favor of - stunned, obvious, concern. worry and - fright of his own, and then something horrified. did he do that? no, no, that's not what he wanted, he was hoping to get some emotion out of him, that's not what he wanted, did he just --
-- therion's off of him in a second, away from him, turning his back to jiaoqiu, legs swinging off the edge of the bed like he's about to escape. he freezes when jiaoqiu talks, though, like a stilled animal, shoulders tense and tight, frozen in the moment. the fright on his face is practically burned behind his eyelids. you did that. you did that. and maybe he should be scared, because after all, that's what he is. parasite. little beast. not someone who should be around these little soft edges. harsh, the way the world made him to be.
after a long beat, therion scrubs a hand over his face after a long moment, as taut as a bowstring, and exhales out, roughly, and just. he can't say anything, right away. ]
[ that - is maybe okay, actually, because it gives jiaoqiu a second to breathe. to get his bearings.
he swallows hard. and slowly sits up, ears pinned back tightly against his skull. he gives them a second. and then, a little brittle: ]
Don't. You couldn't have predicted. [ because they've been rough and they've clawed and bit at each other, they've rolled around and flipped each other on their backs, and he's never had this reaction before. there was no reason to expect it. the difference, this time, was the sudden switch between gentle and rough. even jiaoqiu is rattled, surprised by his own body's response.
he's not stupid. he knows therion is internalizing this, and he wants to get ahead of it before it has a chance to sink in. ]
I'm alright, Therion. We both have bad memories. [ ... ] Did I hurt you?
[ haha it's too late for that buddy that is SO internalized
he still doesn't say anything, at first. the bite in his shoulder - the new one, not the bandaged one, throbs for a second, and he still doesn't say anything. stupid, stupid fucking -
stupid fucking jiaoqiu, actually, because the first thing he asks is did i hurt you. therion starts to whip around, incredulous, and then realizes how sudden the movement is and stops, tightly, all muscle control. a tense, wild animal with its paw in a trap again.
but the bite doesn't come. he snaps out- ]
Do you fucking hear yourself? [ "did i hurt you", after that reaction. bad memories or not, it doesn't matter. the last thing, the last thing he wants is to bring whatever the fuck those are up, because god knows he doesn't want his, either, and if he's giving him the same fucking reaction, what did he expect? there are fresh scratches on his chest over his heart, sure, but they're not deep, at least not physically.
he scoffs, instead, turns back away, and starts to get up. he needs to get some air or some space or as far away as possible and never ever, ever come back. ] But no, of course you don't. Hey, what the hell does it matter, right? Nothing does.
[ but it does matter, it matters so badly to therion, who has never had anything in his life to keep, who might have found something fragile and is terrified of breaking it, terrified of it breaking on him. maybe if he breaks first, it's better that way. at least then he'll know what was true all along - that there's only ever one place he belongs and it's the gutters. ]
[ he doesn't flinch this time, when therion moves. instead, his tail lashes behind him. ]
Therion.
[ is he angry? maybe. he hasn't been angry in so long that he barely remembers what it feels like, but this feels like what he remembers. something tells him this isn't fair. something is crawling up his throat, bitter words that he's always swallowing down. he understands, he thinks, he understands why therion is acting the way he is and he can see the path they're hurtling down, the path where therion decides to wreck the house of cards they've been so painstakingly building, the path where jiaoqiu helps him do it, tearing the flimsy cardboard to pieces.
you can never give me a straight answer, therion had said. jiaoqiu has had enough of being the only one accused of that. ]
You clearly want something too, and you can't or won't tell me. Why should I be the one to do all the work? Why should I be honest when I am faced with you refusing to meet me?
[ his breath shakes, a little. ]
I have told you what I want. You understand that it is - difficult for me to have something I want, as you have so clearly demonstrated with your bark.
[ what the hell does it matter, right? nothing does. ]
[ don't run has him bristling, even if it's the truth. he does run. he runs and runs, because when he stays, bad things tend to happen. he outruns the authorities. he outruns darius. he runs three steps ahead of being caught - but by what? something? anything? something good, something bad?
but therion does stop. distantly, he realizes it's a little stupid - for fuck's sake, he hasn't even put his clothes back on yet, this entire situation is stupid, but it's the last thing on his mind as he stands there once again on the precipice. only this time, darius isn't there to push him off. this time, he's there of his own volition. maybe he's the one who does the pushing.
jiaoqiu asks him what he wants. and that's the problem, isn't it? he doesn't know. a thief who takes and takes and takes, but has he ever actually stolen something he really wanted? is it even capable of being stolen? can he even say it out loud?
(and if he does want it. if he wants - safety, if he wants that safe harbor, if he wants everything that jiaoqiu offered to him barely five minutes ago, can he admit that he's terrified of it, too?)
his hands curl and flex at his sides, white knuckled, short nails digging crescents into his palms. ]
You can't - [ there's something so raw in the way these words come out of his mouth. they're still angry, but it's coming from a place of fear. ] - you can't just fucking offer something like that and then not give a shit.
[ because that offer is something he was tentatively - he was tentatively ready to accept. he was ready to try, at least, earlier, and hearing it again, maybe he was ready to tentatively move that forward, too. maybe - maybe he wanted jiaoqiu to fight for it, to push back, instead of just to shut down.
because what he offered is, terrifyingly, something he thinks he wants. something he really wants. something - something given, as opposed to stolen away.
and so, therion's initial response had been almost one of surprise, an offhanded return to banter that was more dazed at the offer, a punch from an uppercut to his emotions that stunned him when he needed a second to catch his breath. and it is insane, probably, to freak out when all jiaoqiu did was really react the way he told him to, but it wasn't that. it was the instant slide to nothingness, the falsehood of that smile. the feeling that he'd offered it, and then snatched it away. that feeling of betrayal that's just years of built up scar tissue.
they've both got bad memories, indeed. ]
Edited (STOP EATING MY TAGS) 2024-10-14 03:26 (UTC)
I have to ask you to try to... to be patient with me.
[ he says, finally. there's emotion there, something worn and a little pained. struggling. ]
There wasn't any part of that offer that was dishonest or not genuine. But I am not perfect. Far from it. I am broken pieces of something that has taken years to glue back together and I won't always respond to you exactly the way you need me to. I am barely alive, Therion.
[ but he is sincere. and he is trying, and he wants to try. he so desperately wants to want. this is the closest he's felt to it in years and he's clinging to it with every single part of him. if he can just get his feet under him, if he can find the ground, he can keep moving forward, but he is so unmoored and out of practice that he needs help getting there. he can help, he wants to help, he wants to care, but he'd be stupid if he didn't admit that he needs help, too. and that, out of everything, is the most difficult thing he has realized. he doesn't like admitting weakness. he doesn't like to show that what he perceived as a soft letdown because his self worth is so low it's in the negatives felt like a knife.
he swallows hard. the rawness in therion's voice hurts. ]
I am a little more alive with you. This is the most shit I have given in years. I am... I'm trying.
[ it comes out like an exhale - frazzled, a live wire, not lacking humor but not really meant to be a joke. he scrubs his hand over his face, finally, just. trying not to jitter out of his skin in the face of all of this. the harsher sincerity is easier to work with. raw sincerity when it comes to when things are wrong is more familiar.
yeah, of course he knows that he's fucked up. one of the first things therion said - there's something wrong with you was true, and has continued to hold true. he was there to grab him from that rainy cemetery, and he saw the faraway look in his eyes, and he doesn't know the backstory, but he's put enough pieces together to get the jist. if jiaoqiu was perfect, would he still be here? would he have even come here at all?
his hand stays on his face. inhale. exhale. stutter, start, but he's trying, too. he also hates looking weak. feeling vulnerable. feeling exposed. but he's trying. ]
I - [ the sentences starts, stop. ] I haven't - I don't have anything like that. I haven't. Ever.
[ not even with darius. they were transient together, living on the edge of every city they could sneak into. so it's fucking terrifying to think about, and he can't just say that, but maybe he can at least get it across, that he didn't know how to even begin considering to accept it. it's not you, it's me.
there's another long pause. he thinks about the fright on jiaoqiu's face, and he can't look at him, as he finally drags his hands down his face and looks at the ground. ]
I'm probably going to hurt you. [ he'll just say it, though there's something hesitant about it - another admittance of fear. he is the knife's edge, after all, a stupid thief, stupid parasite. he won't always understand. he is a feral creature who has tentatively learned how to find a place to rest its head, and sometimes its one step forward, two steps back, but motion is motion and in this case where jiaoqiu finds forward movement, therion finds a place to stay.
but, 'i'm probably going to hurt you' isn't rejection. it's an admittance in and of itself. that he's just as broken in a thousand different pieces, and he's not even begun to pick them up, letting them stay shattered like broken glass on the floor. he's all sharp, raw edges, unfinished. all teeth.
[ he says in return, looking down at the bed. so, like. same.
but he falls silent after that for a moment, listening to therion - he's trying too, and jiaoqiu knows that. he's known that from the start, he knows that therion even being here is trying. he knows that therion creeping in after dark and leaving him spices and produce is trying, the way crawling into his apartment when he's hurt is an offer of trust, and jiaoqiu has been doing his best to not fuck it up. but he is not very good at that.
he doesn't know what to say that won't sound terribly disingenuous. his need to convey to therion how much he wants him to be around feels heavy, a weight, a foot on his chest. ]
I know you're trying. Of course you are. I see it. I see it when you don't even realize.
[ he just wants therion to know how close he is to shattering at any point, that's all. ]
My answer is not going to change. [ let me feed you, let me warm you, let me give you a place to stay, let me be with you, he's said it multiple times. ] You can hurt me. You can be inexperienced. It won't change.
It's you. You'll need to decide if you can bring yourself to stay with something worthless.
[ he's not soft enough to immediately say you're not worthless, even if reflexively, he thinks it. there's a lot that jiaoqiu says that he wants to refute, actually - you can hurt me, he doesn't want to. whether it was his fault or not, the bodily reaction jiaoqiu had earlier is burnt into his brain, and it's going to take him a long while to get past it.
but. it's just hard to reconcile jiaoqiu being "worthless" when he sees him like that. when he has earned his trust, bit by tiny bit. he sucks too, is the thing. he sucks a lot. he knows that it's not easy and he couldn't ever do anything to make it that way. talk about worthless.
there's a very long pause, and when he speaks again, he's still not looking at him. the bite in his shoulder hurts. he's not sure which one. ]
...You're the one who let a thief into your house.
[ which is a roundabout answer, but that's the best he can really do. why would a thief crawl into someone's house if they were worthless? he doesn't chase things that are. ever. and yet, he finds himself here, over and over, he finds himself coming here just like he pointed out, before - because it's safe.
and in being a thief, he's the one who does nothing for the world. not for anyone but himself - he is, in essence, just a useless parasite who feeds off the success of others shamelessly, who lives shamelessly. so. if jiaoqiu is insistent on being terrible, he's not any better. he might just be worse.
it doesn't feel like he has the capacity to even begin to tell him more than that, but there is so much more. something in him squirms at being known, and it's a strange feeling, toeing that line between positive and negative like he often seems to do here, pain and pleasure. he opens his mouth, closes it. works his jaw, and chances a glance back at jiaoqiu, to look at him again. the expression on his face is complicated, but it's not negative - a hint of vulnerability, maybe, an unusual sight on his face. he thinks about the way he'd looked at his scar, what now feels like years ago.
there's another pause. ]
... sorry. [ he doesn't say sorry very often, so that means something, too. ] For... scaring you. [ as he has done over and over again, it seems like. but - sorry for maybe making the fragility worse, or maybe for doing a shitty patch job, but that's all he can ever really do. he's never known how to hold onto something, let alone something that's good. ]
[ all the things therion keeps inside are just that - things left unsaid, and jiaoqiu doesn't hear any of them, but it's okay. his opinion of himself is hard to change. he can be safe and worthless, those are things that very much can coexist. it doesn't seem to bother him much. more like a simple statement of fact than anything self-pitying. you're the one who let a thief into your house - sure. but he already knew he had nothing to steal when he did.
when therion glances over at him, he misses it - he's staring at the wall with an expression that isn't flat, but sad.
the sorry, though. it doesn't surprise him, but it gets his attention. he looks up. and then, after a moment: ]
I know that you won't believe me when I say it, but it's alright. It surprised me, too.
[ a beat. ]
An old fling, when I was still figuring out what made me feel alive.
[ he very slowly sinks back down onto the bed. he's cold, so he brings a blanket around him, and rests his head on the mattress. not the pillows, he's not even properly laid out on the bed, he just lies down right where he is. ]
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the five minutes give him time to settle back down. he's tired, now - all of the adrenaline of the day is starting to melt out of his body. a few hours ago, he was fighting for his life against a couple of thugs who were pissed at him for getting the drop, and now he's here, in a warm bed, with a warm person, hazily coming down from a good orgasm and for once, relaxed. his eyes, good and bad, flutter shut.
of course, then jiaoqiu speaks. he doesn't open his eyes, but he snorts, and drawls: ]
Oops.
[ have you ever heard someone be less repentant in your life. clearly he is not even remotely sorry for this. why would he be. not for making him irresponsible, and definitely not for making it hard for him to walk. maybe he'd be more sorry if he actually meant it!
he should get up. he's sticky and pleasantly sore, but that hand acts like a tether, and he very absently plays with a piece of his pink hair between his fingers - freezes, when he moves, brow knitting together in the oversensitivity of friction, and then exhales out again, letting himself come back down the peg he was about to ratchet back up to.
and...when his tail lashes, therion scratches him behind the ear. because he is a brat. ]
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instead, he leans into the hand playing with his hair, letting himself become liquid. the scritching behind the ear feels... really good... and he's just sleep stupid enough to arch into it. embarrassing!! therion is going to have another like seven reasons to make fun of him, but. he spends another good couple of minutes just letting therion pet him like a dog. whatever, who cares, he's already made a fool of himself as is.
his bones feel like mush, after two orgasms and a lot of feelings that he's not used to feeling, and what he wants to do is just fall asleep here. nothing would be better than pinning his stupid patient to the bed so he can't get up and run away in the middle of the night. the lizard brain that is still a little in charge thinks maybe if you don't let him pull out of you he'll have to stay forever, and that is actually what gets him to groan and sit up. stop that, don't be ridiculous.
again, the shift makes him wince - sorry, he accidentally claws at therion's hand a bit where he's still holding, but. he lets therion slide out of him and absolutely makes a face, ears pinning back. a beat, as he adjusts, feeling like he could crawl out of his skin a bit, and then he slowly rolls over to the edge of the bed with another groan.
mumbles something about his back. ow. but he's gotta get up and clean himself up or he's going to regret it. ]
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at any rate - there he goes. the feeling as jiaoqiu pulls free is both overstimulating and very sticky, and there's a definitive and immediate loss of warmth - therion's nose wrinkles, but he doesn't react beyond pulling a face, and definitely does not react to the claws. he lets jiaoqiu remove himself and inhales, feeling the weight lifted off of him and for once not finding it a sensation of relief.
he's still plenty aware of where all of his limbs are no matter how fucked out he is - too many years of being on guard means you're never quite all the way off of it, but he does prop himself up on his good arm to glance down at himself and the mess left behind, including down at his hand. little pinpricks where jiaoqiu's claws scratched left behind little white marks, a proof, a reminder that he was there, that that phantom sensation of his fingers between his own wasn't just a misplaced memory or, gods forbid, some kind of mid-sex daydream. no, it was reality, and he stares at it for a long beat. curls his fingers. opens them again.
by the time jiaoqiu gets up to clean himself up, therion's gaze sweeps over his back, and his expression is... complicated. more vulnerable than usual, maybe. something hopeful. something a little scared. something overcomplicated and messy by his own anxieties and his own experiences, and it takes him way too long to shake it off, making a grumpy noise to himself. while jiaoqiu is probably like, doing nice things to get himself at least kind of cleaned up, therion leans over the edge of the bed, and feels around lazily for his shirt. this makes an acceptable rag? this is what he's going to clean himself off with if jiaoqiu doesn't get back here fast enough. ]
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no, he hobbles off to his bathroom to get washcloths, doing a lazy little clinical once-over so he's not... leaking everywhere... and then comes back about a minute later with clean, wet cloths. the second he sees therion with his shirt in hand, he makes a protesting noise. no!!
he doesn't bother speaking, he just makes his way over to the bed and grabs therion's shirt and throws it back on the ground. tail lashing wildly, jiaoqiu huffs and pushes therion back down onto the bed, climbing over him. there's a bit of wincing as he does, because he actually is sore, and just because he likes the pain doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. his pain tolerance is not nearly as efficient as therion's.
regardless though, he settles sitting up next to therion, and very gently starts to clean him up. the washcloths are warm and damp, and jiaoqiu is very thorough. he rubs at the mess over therion's stomach and thighs, does a sweep over the length of him, and then his hands, making a little tsk sound at the pinpricks he left behind. cleans the bites he left behind. it's a little no-nonsense, but more than anything, it's... well, it's affectionate. there's very obviously care behind every motion, and his expression is at ease. this is probably reinforced by the fact that jiaoqiu also checks his bandages to make sure he didn't fuck anything up while railing jiaoqiu to next sunday.
the vulnerability is not lost on him. he sees it. it's why with each pass of the washcloth he glides his fingers over the skin he just cleaned. it's his tail settled on therion's thigh, it's one ear flopped out lazily with the other still pointing up. it's leaning down to press a kiss to where his fangs left an imprint, lingering. little reminders. opening therion up to what he plans to do next, slowly easing him into intimacy. ]
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[ wow he doesn't even get to really protest!! that doesn't mean he doesn't try, though, complaining at first when he tosses his shirt (rude) and then sputters a little as he's pushed back - he can clean himself, what the fuck - and then repeatedly making more complaining noises and squirming around in protest until jiaoqiu starts actually cleaning him up. the washcloth is not cold, and it's - it's just a lot? it's a lot of tenderness that he is very not used to, and therion's face starts to flood with color, until he's finally forced to shut his mouth and stop bitching for like five seconds.
embarrassed! he's embarrassed. he doesn't have to do any of this, and yet, there is some part of him that's dying for this kind of touch, somewhere between needing it and trying to reject it all the same. by the time jiaoqiu's at his hands, there's the faintest tremor when he holds it, which he quickly shakes off, and huffs, rolls his eyes to the ceiling like he is just utterly put upon. ]
Could've warned me you were going to groom me, fluff. [ therion grumbles, making a pathetic attempt at making fun of him for acting an animal that lacks any heat or bite because he is clearly so affected that he's having trouble keeping a lid on it, that the soft kiss to his shoulder makes him suck in a breath and then release it, trying so hard to keep his cool. it doesn't work.
the intention is not lost on him, is the thing. he's not stupid. he's just critically incapable of handling a single nice thing, because he's never actually had one. ]
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because he knows therion needs it. he knows therion needs someone to be kind to him without strings. jiaoqiu is not the perfect person for any of this, and he's not patient and he's not selfless, he really isn't. in fact, he's got no way of knowing when this energy is going to run out - when he's going to burn out again. but this comes easy. this is something he wants to do, and it's so much easier to show than to tell. so therion squirms and protests, and jiaoqiu doesn't fight him, but he does not quit. and eventually therion just lets him do it, which makes jiaoqiu very pleased with himself.
the flush on his face is sort of cute. jiaoqiu smiles - really, he just makes a :3 face - and takes the bites in stride. it's hard to be insulted when therion's basically shaking. unfortunately for therion, jiaoqiu is not planning on giving him any breaks here. ]
You need it. [ he says, tail swishing. ] I wouldn't need to groom you if I didn't just watch you wipe all of your fluids on my bedsheets.
[ a beat. he pulls back a little, throws the washcloth over his shoulder to the floor, and then climbs over therion so he can curl up against his side. he tucks himself under therion's uninjured arm, all but a demand to hold him, and rests his head against therion's shoulder.
he doesn't have to be nice. jiaoqiu still wants this. ]
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My fluids. I know exactly where my fluids went. You're the one that made the mess.
[ gross don't keep talking about it
anyway this is just more of his complaining for the sake of complaint, and maybe also to save his dignity a little bit. he has to complain while jiaoqiu is tenderly taking care of him because he just might rattle out of his fucking skin otherwise, and he will be digging his fingernails into the remains of his dignity for the rest of his life. by the time he's done he's feeling simultaneously embarrassed and exasperated, but the thread of relaxed is still there, and the thread of adrenaline from earlier has finally come down to almost nothing.
as jiaoqiu stuffs himself under his arm, he snorts, rolls his eyes, but after a second, lets his arm drop there, draping it over his shoulders, fingers lightly curled against his chest. he can almost feel jiaoqiu's heartbeat. ]
You're sticky. [ more grumbling for the sake of grumbling, considering he adjusts a little bit to makes sure he's not getting a mouthful of hair or fur, and his cheek plunks onto his head. all of those feelings, all of those activities - he is tired. ]
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And who's fault is that, hm? [ therion made him sticky!! ] I could make you do my laundry.
[ but he doesn't mind, right now, and they're not getting up. now that he's curled up, he's exhausted too. he closes his eyes, and flops his tail over therion. claims him, a bit. ]
If I were to shower now, I'd drown. [ he hums, tracing a pattern over therion's chest with a claw. maybe it's silly, but he's... kind of working himself up, trying to convince himself to reach for therion's hand. he liked holding it. and since he's about overindulging himself to the point of getting sick tonight, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to just...
his ear flicks out of the way so it's not directly in therion's face. ] Tomorrow, you can join me.
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[ nyeh!!! he WILL dye your clothes pink on purpose. does he know how to use a - no i'm kidding he at least knows how to use a laundromat.
as jiaoqiu settles on him, it's that same warm, weighted feeling from before. intense, this time, but in a different way - just intense in that the human contact lights up old synpases somewhere in the back of his mind, flickering old things that have long sense turned off. it's a lot, and it's not enough all at once, and he's keenly aware of the flopped tail, the placement of jiaoqiu's limbs. his heart hammering away in his chest.
this is all new for him. this never happened, not once, no matter how much he was ten and wanted it, twelve and wanted it, fourteen and wanted it, sixteen and decided he didn't need it. being held, being trapped here feels less like being trapped than it probably should, and though the thought crosses his mind and makes his stomach squirm when jiaoqiu says "tomorrow", he keeps it to himself, keeps it off of his face. when jiaoqiu's fingers curl over his chest like that, his heart jumps, embarrassingly - it leaves goosebumps.
he's quiet for a long moment. tomorrow. ]
You're not going to let me leave, are you. [ it's not phrased like a question, but it's not harsh, either. it's playing into what was just before, fussy complaining that amounts to nothing, even if it's a little scarier than that.
and what a contradiction from just a second ago. 'you can't make me' and 'you won't let me leave'. like maybe it doesn't feel like something he has to obey. ]
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If you want to leave, I won't stop you.
[ he says, finally. he doesn't look at therion, just keeps his eyes closed. it's fussy complaining, sure, it's meant to be pigtail pulling, but he takes it sincerely. his hand goes still, and he just rests it over therion's heart. his fingertips rest over the bandages he put in place not even two hours ago. ]
I will never force you to be here, as much as I enjoy your presence. Go where you please, do what you will.
[ the idea of him vanishing without a trace makes his heart feel like it'll crack in two. the idea of having human contact ripped from him again, of losing one more person - he thinks that it might actually kill him this time. or maybe it won't. maybe he'll just continue on like he always has, because she told him to live and he can do that, bare minimum. husks are technically alive, breathing. he can keep going until his organs fail him. maybe he'll be the first natural-made mara-struck foxian.
that's too much to put on therion. his presence in this world is too much of a burden to rest on anybody's shoulders, so he doesn't say it, doesn't even imply it. therion can go, without any guilt - he'll just fade back out, no fuss.
still. selfishly: ]
I can only ask you to come back.
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this is - a lot. the sincerity is a lot. first of all, jiaoqiu can feel therion's heart thundering, the pace jolting up the second he doesn't take the silly banter for silly banter, can feel the treacherous way his heart skips. it could be a fear response, it could be something else. even he's not really sure which. it's just...
therion's freedom is so important to him because it's all he's ever known. sure, it has its downsides. he's never had a place of safety to come back to for long. he's never had a harbor to moor in. he's got a place here that he pays for under the table in cash, but it's shitty and small and full of holes. he has no identification, no connections - he doesn't even have a last name. but, beyond that, it has his ability to simply leave. to follow where his feet want to take him - to continue to be unknown, a lone wolf prowling around the edges of society, unmoored and free to fly where he pleases, free to take what he wants and never gets caught. connections have only ever brought him strife, until... until now. and that's part of what's so scary about it, to think that maybe if he got attached, even if things didn't go badly, then he'd still be attached, and isn't that just terrifying?
go where you please, and do what you will. it's what he already does. it's the second clause that he's never really had before. he's reminded again of earlier. if you are cold, come to my bed. if you're hungry, let me feed you. what is it like to be wanted - and not just on a poster?
he swallows, hard, around what have to be butterflies. therion knows that feeling, unfortunately, knows it only leads to sorrow. and after a long moment, he says, a little hoarsely, almost lamely: ]
You're supposed to say "no."
[ as in "no, i'm not going to let you leave", as if it was just silly banter because at first, that's the only thing he can think of to say. obviously he didn't do that. and now therion's sitting here, having feelings about it, turning pink out to his ears and feeling like he's about to free fall again. this time, it's not even because he's being pushed. ]
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it's scary to receive affection, for therion - and it's scary to offer it, for jiaoqiu. maybe he should stop going off script before he really does get sick.
a huff. ]
... Mm, right. Then - no. I'm afraid you're trapped here forever.
[ there's that sort of yawning void of nothing behind his words, even with the little smile on his face. ]
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i hope jiaoqiu wasn't too comfortable because there's movement - a flurry of it, suddenly, because he rolls over and with more energy than he should really have, pins either hand on either side of jiaoqiu's stupid fluffy head and stares down at him. doing this agitates the injury on his shoulder, but he ignores it, gripping the still torn bedsheets, feeling this spark of - something? he doesn't know what. anger? frustration? it's something and it's so vibrant and loud that he doesn't know how to deal with it, and so he always defaults to anger.
but he doesn't hurt jiaoqiu - he would never, and so he white knuckles the bedsheets and stares down at him instead. ]
Do you want something, or not?
[ sharp - fierce. this is completely irrational, because therion is the one who had a reaction, therion is the one who panicked, and it feels bad and awful but somehow seeing that fucking nothingness smile feels like, a hundred times worse. to offer him something like that and then - no, it doesn't matter that it's irrational, because he can't stare back into the abyss that easily and fall. ]
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silence. jiaoqiu drops his hands. pretends like that didn't happen. ]
... It. [ clears his throat. ] It seems unfair to put the ball back in my court, so to speak, when I don't even know where your court is.
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he - just immediately, he backs off, he immediately pulls back. for once, his expression is not so stoic, the anger completely gone in the favor of - stunned, obvious, concern. worry and - fright of his own, and then something horrified. did he do that? no, no, that's not what he wanted, he was hoping to get some emotion out of him, that's not what he wanted, did he just --
-- therion's off of him in a second, away from him, turning his back to jiaoqiu, legs swinging off the edge of the bed like he's about to escape. he freezes when jiaoqiu talks, though, like a stilled animal, shoulders tense and tight, frozen in the moment. the fright on his face is practically burned behind his eyelids. you did that. you did that. and maybe he should be scared, because after all, that's what he is. parasite. little beast. not someone who should be around these little soft edges. harsh, the way the world made him to be.
after a long beat, therion scrubs a hand over his face after a long moment, as taut as a bowstring, and exhales out, roughly, and just. he can't say anything, right away. ]
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he swallows hard. and slowly sits up, ears pinned back tightly against his skull. he gives them a second. and then, a little brittle: ]
Don't. You couldn't have predicted. [ because they've been rough and they've clawed and bit at each other, they've rolled around and flipped each other on their backs, and he's never had this reaction before. there was no reason to expect it. the difference, this time, was the sudden switch between gentle and rough. even jiaoqiu is rattled, surprised by his own body's response.
he's not stupid. he knows therion is internalizing this, and he wants to get ahead of it before it has a chance to sink in. ]
I'm alright, Therion. We both have bad memories. [ ... ] Did I hurt you?
[ with his claws, he means. ]
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he still doesn't say anything, at first. the bite in his shoulder - the new one, not the bandaged one, throbs for a second, and he still doesn't say anything. stupid, stupid fucking -
stupid fucking jiaoqiu, actually, because the first thing he asks is did i hurt you. therion starts to whip around, incredulous, and then realizes how sudden the movement is and stops, tightly, all muscle control. a tense, wild animal with its paw in a trap again.
but the bite doesn't come. he snaps out- ]
Do you fucking hear yourself? [ "did i hurt you", after that reaction. bad memories or not, it doesn't matter. the last thing, the last thing he wants is to bring whatever the fuck those are up, because god knows he doesn't want his, either, and if he's giving him the same fucking reaction, what did he expect? there are fresh scratches on his chest over his heart, sure, but they're not deep, at least not physically.
he scoffs, instead, turns back away, and starts to get up. he needs to get some air or some space or as far away as possible and never ever, ever come back. ] But no, of course you don't. Hey, what the hell does it matter, right? Nothing does.
[ but it does matter, it matters so badly to therion, who has never had anything in his life to keep, who might have found something fragile and is terrified of breaking it, terrified of it breaking on him. maybe if he breaks first, it's better that way. at least then he'll know what was true all along - that there's only ever one place he belongs and it's the gutters. ]
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Therion.
[ is he angry? maybe. he hasn't been angry in so long that he barely remembers what it feels like, but this feels like what he remembers. something tells him this isn't fair. something is crawling up his throat, bitter words that he's always swallowing down. he understands, he thinks, he understands why therion is acting the way he is and he can see the path they're hurtling down, the path where therion decides to wreck the house of cards they've been so painstakingly building, the path where jiaoqiu helps him do it, tearing the flimsy cardboard to pieces.
you can never give me a straight answer, therion had said. jiaoqiu has had enough of being the only one accused of that. ]
You clearly want something too, and you can't or won't tell me. Why should I be the one to do all the work? Why should I be honest when I am faced with you refusing to meet me?
[ his breath shakes, a little. ]
I have told you what I want. You understand that it is - difficult for me to have something I want, as you have so clearly demonstrated with your bark.
[ what the hell does it matter, right? nothing does. ]
Speak up. Don't run.
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but therion does stop. distantly, he realizes it's a little stupid - for fuck's sake, he hasn't even put his clothes back on yet, this entire situation is stupid, but it's the last thing on his mind as he stands there once again on the precipice. only this time, darius isn't there to push him off. this time, he's there of his own volition. maybe he's the one who does the pushing.
jiaoqiu asks him what he wants. and that's the problem, isn't it? he doesn't know. a thief who takes and takes and takes, but has he ever actually stolen something he really wanted? is it even capable of being stolen? can he even say it out loud?
(and if he does want it. if he wants - safety, if he wants that safe harbor, if he wants everything that jiaoqiu offered to him barely five minutes ago, can he admit that he's terrified of it, too?)
his hands curl and flex at his sides, white knuckled, short nails digging crescents into his palms. ]
You can't - [ there's something so raw in the way these words come out of his mouth. they're still angry, but it's coming from a place of fear. ] - you can't just fucking offer something like that and then not give a shit.
[ because that offer is something he was tentatively - he was tentatively ready to accept. he was ready to try, at least, earlier, and hearing it again, maybe he was ready to tentatively move that forward, too. maybe - maybe he wanted jiaoqiu to fight for it, to push back, instead of just to shut down.
because what he offered is, terrifyingly, something he thinks he wants. something he really wants. something - something given, as opposed to stolen away.
and so, therion's initial response had been almost one of surprise, an offhanded return to banter that was more dazed at the offer, a punch from an uppercut to his emotions that stunned him when he needed a second to catch his breath. and it is insane, probably, to freak out when all jiaoqiu did was really react the way he told him to, but it wasn't that. it was the instant slide to nothingness, the falsehood of that smile. the feeling that he'd offered it, and then snatched it away. that feeling of betrayal that's just years of built up scar tissue.
they've both got bad memories, indeed. ]
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I have to ask you to try to... to be patient with me.
[ he says, finally. there's emotion there, something worn and a little pained. struggling. ]
There wasn't any part of that offer that was dishonest or not genuine. But I am not perfect. Far from it. I am broken pieces of something that has taken years to glue back together and I won't always respond to you exactly the way you need me to. I am barely alive, Therion.
[ but he is sincere. and he is trying, and he wants to try. he so desperately wants to want. this is the closest he's felt to it in years and he's clinging to it with every single part of him. if he can just get his feet under him, if he can find the ground, he can keep moving forward, but he is so unmoored and out of practice that he needs help getting there. he can help, he wants to help, he wants to care, but he'd be stupid if he didn't admit that he needs help, too. and that, out of everything, is the most difficult thing he has realized. he doesn't like admitting weakness. he doesn't like to show that what he perceived as a soft letdown because his self worth is so low it's in the negatives felt like a knife.
he swallows hard. the rawness in therion's voice hurts. ]
I am a little more alive with you. This is the most shit I have given in years. I am... I'm trying.
[ ... ]
I thought you didn't want it.
[ so he shut off. so it wouldn't hurt. ]
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[ it comes out like an exhale - frazzled, a live wire, not lacking humor but not really meant to be a joke. he scrubs his hand over his face, finally, just. trying not to jitter out of his skin in the face of all of this. the harsher sincerity is easier to work with. raw sincerity when it comes to when things are wrong is more familiar.
yeah, of course he knows that he's fucked up. one of the first things therion said - there's something wrong with you was true, and has continued to hold true. he was there to grab him from that rainy cemetery, and he saw the faraway look in his eyes, and he doesn't know the backstory, but he's put enough pieces together to get the jist. if jiaoqiu was perfect, would he still be here? would he have even come here at all?
his hand stays on his face. inhale. exhale. stutter, start, but he's trying, too. he also hates looking weak. feeling vulnerable. feeling exposed. but he's trying. ]
I - [ the sentences starts, stop. ] I haven't - I don't have anything like that. I haven't. Ever.
[ not even with darius. they were transient together, living on the edge of every city they could sneak into. so it's fucking terrifying to think about, and he can't just say that, but maybe he can at least get it across, that he didn't know how to even begin considering to accept it. it's not you, it's me.
there's another long pause. he thinks about the fright on jiaoqiu's face, and he can't look at him, as he finally drags his hands down his face and looks at the ground. ]
I'm probably going to hurt you. [ he'll just say it, though there's something hesitant about it - another admittance of fear. he is the knife's edge, after all, a stupid thief, stupid parasite. he won't always understand. he is a feral creature who has tentatively learned how to find a place to rest its head, and sometimes its one step forward, two steps back, but motion is motion and in this case where jiaoqiu finds forward movement, therion finds a place to stay.
but, 'i'm probably going to hurt you' isn't rejection. it's an admittance in and of itself. that he's just as broken in a thousand different pieces, and he's not even begun to pick them up, letting them stay shattered like broken glass on the floor. he's all sharp, raw edges, unfinished. all teeth.
and then very, very quietly. ]
... I'm trying, too.
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[ he says in return, looking down at the bed. so, like. same.
but he falls silent after that for a moment, listening to therion - he's trying too, and jiaoqiu knows that. he's known that from the start, he knows that therion even being here is trying. he knows that therion creeping in after dark and leaving him spices and produce is trying, the way crawling into his apartment when he's hurt is an offer of trust, and jiaoqiu has been doing his best to not fuck it up. but he is not very good at that.
he doesn't know what to say that won't sound terribly disingenuous. his need to convey to therion how much he wants him to be around feels heavy, a weight, a foot on his chest. ]
I know you're trying. Of course you are. I see it. I see it when you don't even realize.
[ he just wants therion to know how close he is to shattering at any point, that's all. ]
My answer is not going to change. [ let me feed you, let me warm you, let me give you a place to stay, let me be with you, he's said it multiple times. ] You can hurt me. You can be inexperienced. It won't change.
It's you. You'll need to decide if you can bring yourself to stay with something worthless.
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but. it's just hard to reconcile jiaoqiu being "worthless" when he sees him like that. when he has earned his trust, bit by tiny bit. he sucks too, is the thing. he sucks a lot. he knows that it's not easy and he couldn't ever do anything to make it that way. talk about worthless.
there's a very long pause, and when he speaks again, he's still not looking at him. the bite in his shoulder hurts. he's not sure which one. ]
...You're the one who let a thief into your house.
[ which is a roundabout answer, but that's the best he can really do. why would a thief crawl into someone's house if they were worthless? he doesn't chase things that are. ever. and yet, he finds himself here, over and over, he finds himself coming here just like he pointed out, before - because it's safe.
and in being a thief, he's the one who does nothing for the world. not for anyone but himself - he is, in essence, just a useless parasite who feeds off the success of others shamelessly, who lives shamelessly. so. if jiaoqiu is insistent on being terrible, he's not any better. he might just be worse.
it doesn't feel like he has the capacity to even begin to tell him more than that, but there is so much more. something in him squirms at being known, and it's a strange feeling, toeing that line between positive and negative like he often seems to do here, pain and pleasure. he opens his mouth, closes it. works his jaw, and chances a glance back at jiaoqiu, to look at him again. the expression on his face is complicated, but it's not negative - a hint of vulnerability, maybe, an unusual sight on his face. he thinks about the way he'd looked at his scar, what now feels like years ago.
there's another pause. ]
... sorry. [ he doesn't say sorry very often, so that means something, too. ] For... scaring you. [ as he has done over and over again, it seems like. but - sorry for maybe making the fragility worse, or maybe for doing a shitty patch job, but that's all he can ever really do. he's never known how to hold onto something, let alone something that's good. ]
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when therion glances over at him, he misses it - he's staring at the wall with an expression that isn't flat, but sad.
the sorry, though. it doesn't surprise him, but it gets his attention. he looks up. and then, after a moment: ]
I know that you won't believe me when I say it, but it's alright. It surprised me, too.
[ a beat. ]
An old fling, when I was still figuring out what made me feel alive.
[ he very slowly sinks back down onto the bed. he's cold, so he brings a blanket around him, and rests his head on the mattress. not the pillows, he's not even properly laid out on the bed, he just lies down right where he is. ]
Will you come back over here? [ ... ] Please.
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