[ 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. ]
[ oh, the look on his face is... it's hard to look away from. it's jarringly familiar to that cemetery under that rainy gray sky, and it feels like he might slip out of reality if therion was the one to turn and walk away. he is softhearted, no matter what fronts he puts up. he really, really cares, and he - maybe he can do something here, after nearly destroying all of it.
the fact that jiaoqiu asks him to return even now is good for his heart. it's good for their tentative trust, it's... it's sure as hell better than it was five minutes ago. he digests that information - an old fling - and snorts, but sort of sardonic, dry. yeah. yeah, he fucking knows what that's like. tells him everything he needs to know. he's not sure if he can say anything about it without ripping open the scabs on his own very, very old wound, and that's a conversation he wants to avoid with a twenty foot pole, but the look on his face shows more empathy with that idea than he admits out loud.
after a beat, with the request, therion... hesitates, for a second, and then makes his way back over. he sits on the bed, next to him, at first, like he's trying to decide exactly what he wants to do, or say. he's suddenly very aware of every part of himself, his limbs, his breathing, his everything, like a gangly deer trying to find its footing. for once, at a loss for words, that confidence of his missing as he tries to find ways to be softer. ]
Move your head.
[ is. what he says, that's not really that soft, and that's - well, it's therion, so, what do you expect. it's a little bit gruff, but it's because if he does, he picks up a pillow and puts it underneath where he was laying, quietly fussing in his own right. maybe that will help. maybe something will. ]
[ the empathy in therion's expression gives jiaoqiu some hints, too. both of them are fucked up over someone - jiaoqiu sort of guessed that this was the case, but it makes a little more sense now. neither of them can talk about it without reopening old, severe wounds, and they're already preoccupied with trying to stop the bleeding of these new ones, so for now, jiaoqiu lets it go, but. it's good to know.
therion makes his way back over, and jiaoqiu doesn't really move. until therion asks him to lift his head, and he does, obediently.
there's something about the gesture that makes his heart ache. it helps. therion, for all his rough edges and uncertainties, cares. he can see it. it's clumsy, and he's obviously new to this or at the very least, inexperienced, but he's trying to care for jiaoqiu in any way that he can. he can see the enormity of what therion feels, and thinks, absently, that it's sort of funny how opposite they are in that. but if therion is going to try to do what doesn't come naturally to him, jiaoqiu will too. he can fight the nihility enough to give something back.
carefully, jiaoqiu extends his arms out from under the blanket, opening them like he's waiting for a hug. a beat. ]
[ after a long beat, like he's considering - finally, he carefully eases himself down. his body hurts. it's morning, now, the daylight starting to ease through the curtains, he's injured, and exhausted emotionally and physically after all of that, and the adrenaline of the situation finally fades away and all that's left is therion, scrawny little wolf, desperately in need of a chance to curl up somewhere small and safe.
with his arms extended like that, therion huffs and shakes his head. it feels a little childish, but maybe that's what the both of them could use, and crawls in beside him, lifting the covers and worming under them. his heart's still going too fast, but he accepts it - a feral creature sticking its face out to be pet for the very first time.
it's warm under here. warm, and dark, and intimate. and though it's a marked difference from just an hour or two ago, where jiaoqiu was snuggly and silly after a roll between the sheets, it's nice, it's - healing, really. it's finding old, old, old breaks in bone and snapping them back into place. a painful process, but a necessary one.
deep breath in. deep breath out. and... he's here. ]
[ the sigh that jiaoqiu lets out when therion squirms under the blankets with him can only be described as relieved. he lets therion settle in, and then gently, he wraps his arm around therion. he holds him to his chest, resting his hand against the back of therion's head if he's facing him, or against his heart, if he's back to chest.
either way, it's warm. skin to skin. safe, covered. he presses a kiss to whatever bit of therion he can reach, and settles his tail over therion's legs again. it's morning, and he wants to sleep, he wants to ease all that pain he can feel therion holding onto. physically and emotionally. maybe he'll call into work, so he can stay here and try. it's good to have a goal. it's good to have something he wants to do, it's good to feel like his existence has some sort of effect.
for a moment, he feels a little like crying. what a novel thing. it's not really even a negative feeling, just something sort of overwhelmed. he doesn't. he just matches therion's breathing, stroking at therion's skin. ]
I like it when you stay.
[ he murmurs. almost like a sorry, for shutting down earlier. ]
[ the thing about therion is that for every sharp little barb he throws out, every way he holds anyone and everyone at arm's length, is that he's trying to make himself believe what he says more than anyone he actually speaks to. he can tell himself that he's just using jiaoqiu's medical skills. just using his body to get off, for an adrenaline rush, and a thrill. but it's such a lie.
the reality is that he's so, so, so fucking lonely. it's been like this for so long that having something even remotely good, even if it's broken and shattered and imperfect, is like a shock to the system. but he has to admit that to himself, first, that he is lonely, that he does want it, to be able to let some of those defenses go. stripped bare in every way, he tucks facing against jiaoqiu's chest, not so prepared to bare his back again, but more or less hiding here, against soft, now familiar skin, against a heartbeat he's starting to come to know.
i like it when you stay feels like taking a breath of cold air. bracing, but oxygenating all the same. he's overwhelmed, too, too much to have stupid shitty comments to make or anything but silence in response - but, his hand comes up, hesitates, and then slides over his waist, and he sets his calloused, small palm against his lower back and holds it there, fingers curling like he could find something here to hold onto. he doesn't say it, but the nonverbal response is blatant.
i like staying, too. terrifying as it is to feel that way. he likes it, too. ]
[ therion tucks against his chest, and jiaoqiu slides his hand up his back, up and up, until it slips into his hair. he strokes gently at the strands, tucking them behind his ear. he takes the way therion curls up with him for what it is - a desire to be held and not hurt, for once. therion is trusting him to not dig the knife in, so he won't.
he would've never used this word before today, but maybe he's lonely too. maybe that's what the feeling was, sitting in his apartment and staring at the void creeping up to his feet, threatening to swallow him whole. he thinks he's tired of being alone. he wants to make use of his heartbeat. maybe if he can start with this, he can find other things, too. there can be more than simply being alive.
the hand on his lower back makes him shiver. involuntary response. he likes it. in return, his own hand settles on therion's back, fingers spread over the middle, between his shoulderblades. just to feel him breathe in and out.
and after a couple of moments of just sitting in the silence, reassuring, jiaoqiu exhales. in that same sleepy, easy tone: ]
[ yeah. yeah, he thinks, shouldn't you be more worried about the other way around? it's therion who vanished last night when he caught a couple hours of rest here in this bed, disappearing off into the cold to go get into trouble.
so there's a low noise that could be agreement, or it could be a dry laugh, or somewhere in between. a little incredulous, but not so much as before. gods, he's so tired. god, he has been tired for so long. his eyes are closed when jiaoqiu messes with his hair, and they'll stay that way, even if he can't immediately fall asleep. he doubts it. it's not like he ever sleeps well around other people - even in rest, he curls up and in on himself, snatches light dozes and keeps one fist curled around a knife. he's probably not had a real night of sleep a single time in his entire life.
and so he doesn't think that he's going to really sleep here, either. he can't shake jiaoqiu's scared expression, or literally anything else they've talked about for the past hour, for the entire day. still, it's good for him to have a few minutes to be in the silence, to unpack everything, from what he's learned of jiaoqiu in this little interaction to the way he feels about literally any of it. he figures he'll be in his head for hours. maybe get up in a couple, and... slip out.
but, it only takes maybe ten more minutes of that silence, that sleepy tone - and he's knocked out. for a solid three or four hours, he sleeps, undisturbed by nightmares or by his own paranoia. tucked into the darkness, buried against the warmth of another body, he rests.
and....
when jiaoqiu wakes up, he'll find that therion's gone, again. ]
[ like the night before, having therion in his bed, curled up with him, means that he isn't woken up by nightmares. his own sleep is like the dead, face buried in therion's hair, arms wrapped loosely around him, tail tucked between their legs. he doesn't have much time to think about anything at all, because having therion with him knocks him out near-immediately. he doesn't have anything to fear. all of the things that worry him are right here in his arms, as protected as he can manage. it might be okay. maybe it'll be okay.
and...
when he wakes up to therion gone, he just sort of sinks into the bed. it's a little dramatic, and he's aware it is, but he thinks, fine. time to rot. he'll just press his face into the pillow and smother himself. the only reason he doesn't is because he made a promise. and if he doesn't show up for work, sushang will have to find his address and she'd be the one to find him, and that's no good. you know. normal stuff, thinking about unaliving yourself and idly, casually weighing the pros and cons, that's healthy.
it'll take a while for him to even find the strength to sit up. he should. he has to get up. you have to get up. get up.
he gets up, slowly. winces, because he's sore, and then shifts in a way that makes that pain rattle up his spine worse, on purpose. a beat, as he closes his eyes against it, breathing unsteady. and then he starts to stand. one tiny thing at a time. he's done this before, cutting up his function into manageable pieces. stand up. take a step. your end goal is your shower, but you have to turn yourself in the right direction to do it, so do that first. one, two, three. ]
[ for a while, all is quiet - he gets his full moment to be extra dramatic and alone, but as jiaoqiu is starting to stand up, with those perky strong ears of his, he'll hear a hissed out: ]
-- shit!
[ from the other room, and the sound of. is that the window closing? yeah, that's the window. ]
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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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the fact that jiaoqiu asks him to return even now is good for his heart. it's good for their tentative trust, it's... it's sure as hell better than it was five minutes ago. he digests that information - an old fling - and snorts, but sort of sardonic, dry. yeah. yeah, he fucking knows what that's like. tells him everything he needs to know. he's not sure if he can say anything about it without ripping open the scabs on his own very, very old wound, and that's a conversation he wants to avoid with a twenty foot pole, but the look on his face shows more empathy with that idea than he admits out loud.
after a beat, with the request, therion... hesitates, for a second, and then makes his way back over. he sits on the bed, next to him, at first, like he's trying to decide exactly what he wants to do, or say. he's suddenly very aware of every part of himself, his limbs, his breathing, his everything, like a gangly deer trying to find its footing. for once, at a loss for words, that confidence of his missing as he tries to find ways to be softer. ]
Move your head.
[ is. what he says, that's not really that soft, and that's - well, it's therion, so, what do you expect. it's a little bit gruff, but it's because if he does, he picks up a pillow and puts it underneath where he was laying, quietly fussing in his own right. maybe that will help. maybe something will. ]
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therion makes his way back over, and jiaoqiu doesn't really move. until therion asks him to lift his head, and he does, obediently.
there's something about the gesture that makes his heart ache. it helps. therion, for all his rough edges and uncertainties, cares. he can see it. it's clumsy, and he's obviously new to this or at the very least, inexperienced, but he's trying to care for jiaoqiu in any way that he can. he can see the enormity of what therion feels, and thinks, absently, that it's sort of funny how opposite they are in that. but if therion is going to try to do what doesn't come naturally to him, jiaoqiu will too. he can fight the nihility enough to give something back.
carefully, jiaoqiu extends his arms out from under the blanket, opening them like he's waiting for a hug. a beat. ]
Come here.
[ let him spoon you. ]
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with his arms extended like that, therion huffs and shakes his head. it feels a little childish, but maybe that's what the both of them could use, and crawls in beside him, lifting the covers and worming under them. his heart's still going too fast, but he accepts it - a feral creature sticking its face out to be pet for the very first time.
it's warm under here. warm, and dark, and intimate. and though it's a marked difference from just an hour or two ago, where jiaoqiu was snuggly and silly after a roll between the sheets, it's nice, it's - healing, really. it's finding old, old, old breaks in bone and snapping them back into place. a painful process, but a necessary one.
deep breath in. deep breath out. and... he's here. ]
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either way, it's warm. skin to skin. safe, covered. he presses a kiss to whatever bit of therion he can reach, and settles his tail over therion's legs again. it's morning, and he wants to sleep, he wants to ease all that pain he can feel therion holding onto. physically and emotionally. maybe he'll call into work, so he can stay here and try. it's good to have a goal. it's good to have something he wants to do, it's good to feel like his existence has some sort of effect.
for a moment, he feels a little like crying. what a novel thing. it's not really even a negative feeling, just something sort of overwhelmed. he doesn't. he just matches therion's breathing, stroking at therion's skin. ]
I like it when you stay.
[ he murmurs. almost like a sorry, for shutting down earlier. ]
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the reality is that he's so, so, so fucking lonely. it's been like this for so long that having something even remotely good, even if it's broken and shattered and imperfect, is like a shock to the system. but he has to admit that to himself, first, that he is lonely, that he does want it, to be able to let some of those defenses go. stripped bare in every way, he tucks facing against jiaoqiu's chest, not so prepared to bare his back again, but more or less hiding here, against soft, now familiar skin, against a heartbeat he's starting to come to know.
i like it when you stay feels like taking a breath of cold air. bracing, but oxygenating all the same. he's overwhelmed, too, too much to have stupid shitty comments to make or anything but silence in response - but, his hand comes up, hesitates, and then slides over his waist, and he sets his calloused, small palm against his lower back and holds it there, fingers curling like he could find something here to hold onto. he doesn't say it, but the nonverbal response is blatant.
i like staying, too. terrifying as it is to feel that way. he likes it, too. ]
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he would've never used this word before today, but maybe he's lonely too. maybe that's what the feeling was, sitting in his apartment and staring at the void creeping up to his feet, threatening to swallow him whole. he thinks he's tired of being alone. he wants to make use of his heartbeat. maybe if he can start with this, he can find other things, too. there can be more than simply being alive.
the hand on his lower back makes him shiver. involuntary response. he likes it. in return, his own hand settles on therion's back, fingers spread over the middle, between his shoulderblades. just to feel him breathe in and out.
and after a couple of moments of just sitting in the silence, reassuring, jiaoqiu exhales. in that same sleepy, easy tone: ]
Rest. I'll be here when you wake up.
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so there's a low noise that could be agreement, or it could be a dry laugh, or somewhere in between. a little incredulous, but not so much as before. gods, he's so tired. god, he has been tired for so long. his eyes are closed when jiaoqiu messes with his hair, and they'll stay that way, even if he can't immediately fall asleep. he doubts it. it's not like he ever sleeps well around other people - even in rest, he curls up and in on himself, snatches light dozes and keeps one fist curled around a knife. he's probably not had a real night of sleep a single time in his entire life.
and so he doesn't think that he's going to really sleep here, either. he can't shake jiaoqiu's scared expression, or literally anything else they've talked about for the past hour, for the entire day. still, it's good for him to have a few minutes to be in the silence, to unpack everything, from what he's learned of jiaoqiu in this little interaction to the way he feels about literally any of it. he figures he'll be in his head for hours. maybe get up in a couple, and... slip out.
but, it only takes maybe ten more minutes of that silence, that sleepy tone - and he's knocked out. for a solid three or four hours, he sleeps, undisturbed by nightmares or by his own paranoia. tucked into the darkness, buried against the warmth of another body, he rests.
and....
when jiaoqiu wakes up, he'll find that therion's gone, again. ]
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and...
when he wakes up to therion gone, he just sort of sinks into the bed. it's a little dramatic, and he's aware it is, but he thinks, fine. time to rot. he'll just press his face into the pillow and smother himself. the only reason he doesn't is because he made a promise. and if he doesn't show up for work, sushang will have to find his address and she'd be the one to find him, and that's no good. you know. normal stuff, thinking about unaliving yourself and idly, casually weighing the pros and cons, that's healthy.
it'll take a while for him to even find the strength to sit up. he should. he has to get up. you have to get up. get up.
he gets up, slowly. winces, because he's sore, and then shifts in a way that makes that pain rattle up his spine worse, on purpose. a beat, as he closes his eyes against it, breathing unsteady. and then he starts to stand. one tiny thing at a time. he's done this before, cutting up his function into manageable pieces. stand up. take a step. your end goal is your shower, but you have to turn yourself in the right direction to do it, so do that first. one, two, three. ]
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-- shit!
[ from the other room, and the sound of. is that the window closing? yeah, that's the window. ]
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