admitting to this is actually absolutely terrifying? he never - well. though he'd never look back at it, though he'd never admit it, the last time he had romantic feelings was for darius. hell, he'd never admitted it to himself, let alone to darius, but it was there. he'd pictured an entire life with him, no matter how short it was, just the two of them, forever living on the fringes of society, stealing everything that wasn't nailed down, living wild and fast and free and together, as partners, the definition of as thick as thieves. but it became clear as the years went on that saying so was beyond stupid. that whatever feelings he had, when he was young and stupid, were best to be kept to himself - and later, it was only proven when it all went to hell how stupid it was.
so. this is something he's fragile about. the idea of saying it goes against about every protective instinct of himself that he has. what is he doing? he stares at jiaoqiu, still trapped with his hands on his face, and there's a moment of visible uncertainty in his expression after his usual grumbling and complaining.
i trust you. i like it when you stay. terrifying, terrifying things. he's not sure if he's safe enough to even begin to look down into the abyss and say those words out loud. his cheeks flush a little further, and his fingers flex. ]
-- Read between the lines.
[ he says, instead of actually saying it, because he balks, because he's afraid of it - because he's trained himself to protect that vulnerable little piece of himself since he couldn't just rip it out of his chest, no matter how hard he tried, and tries to get himself free. ]
[ chase him, something in jiaoqiu says, when he sees that uncertainty. you have to chase him, you have to try harder, you useless thing.
but he isn't built that way. he cannot and will not force the words to come out. so instead, it's reinforcement - that this is not important enough. it won't stop him from offering his care, because he's selfish enough to take whatever he's given, but. really, it's for the best. there are so many things wrong with him that it's unfair to make therion attach himself. like adopting an elderly cat at the shelter, in hopes of giving it a decent home before it goes. like rescuing someone from a submerged car, trying to unbuckle a seatbelt with cold-numb fingers.
therion doesn't want to bring the danger from his life into jiaoqiu's apartment. he thinks of himself as a parasite, taking and taking, but for jiaoqiu, therion isn't one - it's just that jiaoqiu doesn't have enough to properly feed the need. it's nice to be cared for, to be bandaged and fed and given a bed, for a little bit of kindness, but that's what he's worth. you bite into the peach, and your teeth meet the pit immediately. there's only so much chili oil in the bottle. there's not enough good to give. it's not worth it, to salvage whatever peach flesh there is. you'd have to break the bottle entirely to get the rest of the oil out. you throw both away, in the end.
he couldn't do anything for the people he loved. all he did was become a liability. someone to die rescuing. he thinks that'll happen to therion, too. he's so close to dragging therion off that cliff with him and it's the last thing he wants to do.
and it's not that he doubts therion cares. he can see it. but jiaoqiu is fooling him into thinking that he's worth that care. it isn't fair to him, no matter how much jiaoqiu wants to give it. it isn't fair for jiaoqiu to get right up to the edge and then give up, tired. he deserves someone kinder, more stubborn, someone who can push and press and be sweet. sunshine, instead of moonlight.
read between the lines, therion says, and jiaoqiu smiles at him. it's not empty, at least. it's just net-neutral. this is as far as he can make himself bend. ]
I often do.
[ is his answer. a beat. and then, selfishly, he leans forward to kiss therion on the lips, and then the cheek, and then the forehead, and lets go of him. ]
You can wash these dishes while I go start the water for a shower, hm?
[ this response is - confusing. he doesn't know that's what jiaoqiu is thinking, he doesn't know that he's not understanding how fucking huge of a deal it is for him to give this much of himself over to another person, to curl up in his bed and stay the night, to run away and then come back. and therion hasn't given him any reason to really understand that, not really, because he can't even begin to articulate the words, so he's not any better. the neutral smile, a little mysterious, could be worse, but it's still - there's something discomforting about it, and when it's followed by the affectionate gestures it's just. there's something about it that feels like he's being catered to, no matter how wrong that is.
... does he get it? maybe he does. maybe jiaoqiu does get it, and recognizes that it's stupid, which is probably the most likely case. he doesn't know - his face is turning redder, and it could be from those kisses, but it's really a little from some kind of deeply internalized shame. he lets him pull back, and he takes a step back. fucking stupid.
there's another pause, and then he huffs and shrugs his shoulders, turning on his heel, picking up the dishes from where they were set down. ]
Yeah, yeah. [ a net neutral for a net neutral - therion's usual nonchalance and grumbling, his average huffy response to being told to do just about anything. he waves him off as he turns to head for the kitchen - that vulnerability gets slammed away, the key to the door locked and thrown out into traffic where it belongs.
he hates remembering when darius was right. sentimental berk. and somewhere under his skin, the itch to run, to leave, to ruin crawls back up again, but therion pushes it back and away, and uses the cold water of the sink - not hot, if jiaoqiu's about to shower, he's not going to use all the hot water, even now, no matter how nice hot water is - as a brisk reminder of reality.
therion rolls the sleeves of his sweatshirt out of his way as he stares at the dishes of a meal for two, and goes to scrub them clean. give a meal, get clean dishes. equivalency and exchange.]
[ two local dumbasses cannot communicate worth a fuck and would have far less problems if they could just say anything about how they feel out loud
it doesn't matter how much he knows he's bad for therion's spirit, really. because jiaoqiu goes and starts the shower, and he puts his hand under the water and waits for it to warm up, and then wanders back out to the living room. to the kitchen. he watches therion wash the dishes for just a moment, and then makes his way over, holding out his hand. he doesn't know that therion came back, he doesn't know how big of a deal it is, and therion doesn't see the severity of what the void has eaten away in jiaoqiu's chest - they both just keep missing each other, convincing themselves it's stupid, that they're problems.
but jiaoqiu is selfish. he wants to have. he wants to give. so he holds out his hand, even after everything, after both of them shut the door. ]
washing the dishes in cold water is bracing. it's some kind of miracle he doesn't just fucking leave while he's getting the shower ready. he thinks about it. just right back out the window and gone forever, problem-fucking-solved, but he doesn't do it. he just looks at his hands turning red, turning white under the cold until they're mostly numb, and then shakes them free and vigorously dries them off.
transaction and equivalence. that's all this is, he reminds himself. the warmth of a shower and a person - something he can just steal.
he looks over his shoulder at jiaoqiu when he speaks to him, looks at his outstretched hand. and after a second, he sets the dishtowel back down, and makes his way towards him - and then past him, not taking his hand, but over to the bathroom door with the steam rolling out, and lolls his head back to look at him one more time, this time with a little smirk back on his face, a confident strut. ]
it's a very good thing that therion walks past him and can't see his face, because the fact that he just brushes past his hand absolutely hurts jiaoqiu's feelings. like, alarmingly so, he isn't expecting it to. it feels like a step backward. it feels like cold coffee dregs and distance being put firmly back between them. a beat, as he handles it. stands facing away from therion, letting his hand drop. closes his eyes, bringing a hand to rub at his chest, to revel in the broken glass feeling.
and then rearrange his face back into something placid, covering up the glass, and turning around to follow therion towards the bathroom. ]
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no subject
You will not.
[ he is very sure of this and is smug about it ]
no subject
admitting to this is actually absolutely terrifying? he never - well. though he'd never look back at it, though he'd never admit it, the last time he had romantic feelings was for darius. hell, he'd never admitted it to himself, let alone to darius, but it was there. he'd pictured an entire life with him, no matter how short it was, just the two of them, forever living on the fringes of society, stealing everything that wasn't nailed down, living wild and fast and free and together, as partners, the definition of as thick as thieves. but it became clear as the years went on that saying so was beyond stupid. that whatever feelings he had, when he was young and stupid, were best to be kept to himself - and later, it was only proven when it all went to hell how stupid it was.
so. this is something he's fragile about. the idea of saying it goes against about every protective instinct of himself that he has. what is he doing? he stares at jiaoqiu, still trapped with his hands on his face, and there's a moment of visible uncertainty in his expression after his usual grumbling and complaining.
i trust you. i like it when you stay. terrifying, terrifying things. he's not sure if he's safe enough to even begin to look down into the abyss and say those words out loud. his cheeks flush a little further, and his fingers flex. ]
-- Read between the lines.
[ he says, instead of actually saying it, because he balks, because he's afraid of it - because he's trained himself to protect that vulnerable little piece of himself since he couldn't just rip it out of his chest, no matter how hard he tried, and tries to get himself free. ]
no subject
but he isn't built that way. he cannot and will not force the words to come out. so instead, it's reinforcement - that this is not important enough. it won't stop him from offering his care, because he's selfish enough to take whatever he's given, but. really, it's for the best. there are so many things wrong with him that it's unfair to make therion attach himself. like adopting an elderly cat at the shelter, in hopes of giving it a decent home before it goes. like rescuing someone from a submerged car, trying to unbuckle a seatbelt with cold-numb fingers.
therion doesn't want to bring the danger from his life into jiaoqiu's apartment. he thinks of himself as a parasite, taking and taking, but for jiaoqiu, therion isn't one - it's just that jiaoqiu doesn't have enough to properly feed the need. it's nice to be cared for, to be bandaged and fed and given a bed, for a little bit of kindness, but that's what he's worth. you bite into the peach, and your teeth meet the pit immediately. there's only so much chili oil in the bottle. there's not enough good to give. it's not worth it, to salvage whatever peach flesh there is. you'd have to break the bottle entirely to get the rest of the oil out. you throw both away, in the end.
he couldn't do anything for the people he loved. all he did was become a liability. someone to die rescuing. he thinks that'll happen to therion, too. he's so close to dragging therion off that cliff with him and it's the last thing he wants to do.
and it's not that he doubts therion cares. he can see it. but jiaoqiu is fooling him into thinking that he's worth that care. it isn't fair to him, no matter how much jiaoqiu wants to give it. it isn't fair for jiaoqiu to get right up to the edge and then give up, tired. he deserves someone kinder, more stubborn, someone who can push and press and be sweet. sunshine, instead of moonlight.
read between the lines, therion says, and jiaoqiu smiles at him. it's not empty, at least. it's just net-neutral. this is as far as he can make himself bend. ]
I often do.
[ is his answer. a beat. and then, selfishly, he leans forward to kiss therion on the lips, and then the cheek, and then the forehead, and lets go of him. ]
You can wash these dishes while I go start the water for a shower, hm?
no subject
... does he get it? maybe he does. maybe jiaoqiu does get it, and recognizes that it's stupid, which is probably the most likely case. he doesn't know - his face is turning redder, and it could be from those kisses, but it's really a little from some kind of deeply internalized shame. he lets him pull back, and he takes a step back. fucking stupid.
there's another pause, and then he huffs and shrugs his shoulders, turning on his heel, picking up the dishes from where they were set down. ]
Yeah, yeah. [ a net neutral for a net neutral - therion's usual nonchalance and grumbling, his average huffy response to being told to do just about anything. he waves him off as he turns to head for the kitchen - that vulnerability gets slammed away, the key to the door locked and thrown out into traffic where it belongs.
he hates remembering when darius was right. sentimental berk. and somewhere under his skin, the itch to run, to leave, to ruin crawls back up again, but therion pushes it back and away, and uses the cold water of the sink - not hot, if jiaoqiu's about to shower, he's not going to use all the hot water, even now, no matter how nice hot water is - as a brisk reminder of reality.
therion rolls the sleeves of his sweatshirt out of his way as he stares at the dishes of a meal for two, and goes to scrub them clean. give a meal, get clean dishes. equivalency and exchange.]
no subject
it doesn't matter how much he knows he's bad for therion's spirit, really. because jiaoqiu goes and starts the shower, and he puts his hand under the water and waits for it to warm up, and then wanders back out to the living room. to the kitchen. he watches therion wash the dishes for just a moment, and then makes his way over, holding out his hand. he doesn't know that therion came back, he doesn't know how big of a deal it is, and therion doesn't see the severity of what the void has eaten away in jiaoqiu's chest - they both just keep missing each other, convincing themselves it's stupid, that they're problems.
but jiaoqiu is selfish. he wants to have. he wants to give. so he holds out his hand, even after everything, after both of them shut the door. ]
There is room for you as well.
[ in the shower. in his life, too, really. ]
no subject
washing the dishes in cold water is bracing. it's some kind of miracle he doesn't just fucking leave while he's getting the shower ready. he thinks about it. just right back out the window and gone forever, problem-fucking-solved, but he doesn't do it. he just looks at his hands turning red, turning white under the cold until they're mostly numb, and then shakes them free and vigorously dries them off.
transaction and equivalence. that's all this is, he reminds himself. the warmth of a shower and a person - something he can just steal.
he looks over his shoulder at jiaoqiu when he speaks to him, looks at his outstretched hand. and after a second, he sets the dishtowel back down, and makes his way towards him - and then past him, not taking his hand, but over to the bathroom door with the steam rolling out, and lolls his head back to look at him one more time, this time with a little smirk back on his face, a confident strut. ]
Gotta 'clean up my mess', huh? C'mon.
no subject
it's a very good thing that therion walks past him and can't see his face, because the fact that he just brushes past his hand absolutely hurts jiaoqiu's feelings. like, alarmingly so, he isn't expecting it to. it feels like a step backward. it feels like cold coffee dregs and distance being put firmly back between them. a beat, as he handles it. stands facing away from therion, letting his hand drop. closes his eyes, bringing a hand to rub at his chest, to revel in the broken glass feeling.
and then rearrange his face back into something placid, covering up the glass, and turning around to follow therion towards the bathroom. ]
Yes, of course.