[ it surprises him, as it usually does when therion grabs him out of nowhere. but - he's fine with being pulled out of the place, and follows obediently. of course, until the smell of blood hits his nose, and then he's very alert, making a protesting noise as therion drags him into an alley. whatever he says to him at first is ignored, because jiaoqiu shifts his grip, holding therion's hand in both of his own, looking it over. did he dig his nails in too hard?
he does not bother looking in his pockets. ]
No. He flirted with me, poorly.
[ jiaoqiu says, with a hint of disgust. he presses his sleeve to whatever the blood came from, ear flicking violently. and then he tries to catch therion's gaze, expression softening. ]
[ he sure did! there are thin crescents in his palms from the bite of his stubby nails - it's not a lot of blood, but it's blood nonetheless. familiar injuries, though usually in a much more positive manner, and usually on jiaoqiu, not the other way around. when he takes his hand, he makes a protesting noise of his own when he doesn't fucking check, is he not listening - therion jostles closer and shoves his own hand in jiaoqiu's stupid fucking pockets as if this would help, feeling around like he could tell if anything was missing. if he has his wallet this makes him like one inch less ready to explode off the face of the earth.
in the meantime, the sharp, rapid fire questions continue, ignoring him. ]
Was there any medicine on the counter? Did you check the cash register?
[ a tremor quakes through his hands, just once, and therion bites back a half growl of frustration. he doesn't yank his hand out of jiaoqiu's grip, but he does pull the other one away from his pockets once he's satisfied. good. he's fine. it's fine. it's -] You wouldn't have any idea if you weren't.
[ fine. or at least, he sure as hell wouldn't have any idea that he got pickpocketed. they were both good at it, was the thing - therion was always better, which was the crux of the issue, but he can only imagine how darius has improved in the many years that have passed.
belatedly, take a breath registers, and he does, but no one would call it anything near relaxing. therion brings his free hand up and scrubs it over his face again, leaving a little blood on his cheek, and then he looks around again, like he's checking their surroundings. ]
[ he does in fact have his wallet on him, he's not missing anything, probably. he tends not to carry a lot on him anyway, just his phone and the flimsiest excuse for a wallet ever. he'd be very impressed if darius managed to steal anything from jiaoqiu specifically with a counter between them, when jiaoqiu did not take his eyes off him for a moment. he's old, not blind. anymore, anyway.
still, he gets it. he lets therion dig around in his pockets, with a huff. ]
I didn't check the cash register. The only medicine was his own.
[ calmly. he's measured, gently wiping the blood from therion's palm. a beat, and then he pushes therion's sleeve up his arm and presses his fingers to therion's pulse. not for any medical reason, just to say that he's here. there's no panic or fear in him, just... concern, mostly, and it shows on his face. ]
I'm a healer. I know very well when there's something wrong with me. Therion.
[ look at him. telegraphed, very clear where he's reaching, jiaoqiu tilts therion's face away from frantically looking around, and directs his gaze to jiaoqiu's. he wipes the blood from his cheek, adjusts therion's hair so it's safely over his ruined eye, his own gold eyes soft and worried. ]
[ listen no one ever said he was rational. this is not even remotely close to a rational response.
the feeling of his pulse cements it - it is going rabbit fast, to the point that it's certainly unhealthy, and it hasn't calmed down for a second since they left the store, and it might not for hours. he feels so wildly on edge, like a prey animal in a predator's territory, and that makes him feel even worse. the twin feelings of anxious awful dread and fury that it's still bothering him this much, that he can't just fucking shake this off.
the telegraphed movement stops him from looking around, even though he's clearly still incredibly tense. he doesn't flinch or anything, but he's holding himself unnaturally still, unnaturally fine, he's fine, he's fine. explain, jiaoqiu says. he doesn't even know where to start. the worry in his eyes feels like he's breathing in cold air again, bracing and unfamiliar and he knows how honest it is. the little gesture like he sets his armor back into place, all honest, too.
a few months ago, he would've shoved this away. no, no thank you, no i won't, goodbye forever. at this point, though - therion says, gruffly, finally: ]
Not here.
[ not - this close to the pharmacy. not in public. he pulls away a little, looks down and then back. ] Come on.
[ and he doesn't offer much explanation beyond that, because he steps back, and then he steps out to the edge of the alleyway, and then he waits. a nonverbal "follow me" - though therion doesn't ever let jiaoqiu out of his peripherial, really, but if he'll follow, they can go. ]
[ something in jiaoqiu, when he feels that rabbit-quick pulse, makes him want to wrap therion up and hold him. he knows that's not what you're supposed to do with panicking people, of course, but the instinct to take care of him and help him calm down is so strong that he can barely handle it. he wants to kiss him and put a blanket around his shoulders and sit him down in his warm apartment, it's okay, you're safe here.
but he lets therion call the shots. because - therion doesn't turn him down. doesn't run. he trusts him, and it's such a relief. it makes his whole body ache with it. he thinks about saying thank you. he doesn't, but it's clear in his expression.
he'll step in if it seems like therion leading is actually going to hurt him, but for now, jiaoqiu is obedient and calm. a rock, a lighthouse. he lets therion go, brushing his hand down therion's back in a comforting gesture as he turns. and then he follows. ]
I'm with you.
[ he says, easily enough. just a reminder. he's not going anywhere but to wherever therion is taking him. ]
[ he doesn't say anything else - he reacts a little to the hand, briefly straightening, still utterly tense, but then nods. i'm with you. and he thinks, that's gonna be the fucking problem to himself, viciously, but he lets it go.
and. well, they're not going to the nice warm apartment. that's for sure. in fact, therion leads the way briskly, constantly looking back and over his shoulder, slipping through the roughshod district of town. they take a path that twists and turns, clearly the long, long way around. for blocks, for a while - ten, fifteen, twenty, nearly thirty minutes of what would be a meandering, winding stroll were it not laced with his own anxiety. it probably does look a little sketchy to be doing this, but if jiaoqiu trusts him for some fucking reason, they come back out into a nicer part of town, past many pretty nice houses, and eventually, to a train station, and beyond that, to a dilapidated old building that might be an apartment complex, or like, maybe a condemned hotel. but therion pushes the back door of this building open with a flick of his wrist and holds it for jiaoqiu, until the door shuts with a final click. he looks up, around, checks his surroundings, and then leads him up (sorry) a lot of stairs.
however, eventually, down a dingy hallway with barely working lights and musty old carpet, he stops at a door and produces - a key, and pops the door open.
it's an apartment. it's. not great? it's really not great. jiaoqiu's might be bland, but it's a marked improvement over this little place, which consists of a tiny kitchenette, what amounts to a nest of blankets and a couple of pillows settled onto what looks like an air mattress, and a backpack of some kind leaning against a wall, a shitty bathroom with a tiny shower, and... that's about it. it's drafty as hell in here, but after some fiddling, therion flicks on a buzzy, old light and there's the click-click-click of three deadbolts, and he leans against the door and sighs.
he feels like he needs - god. a drink, that sounds fucking great, and without any other word, he pushes off the door and goes to the tiny kitchen cabinets and out of nowhere pulls out a really fucking nice bottle of whiskey and a couple of cups.
but talk about a sign of trust. this is his safehouse - the tiny, shitty place he used to spend time the most when he was in this town. his voice is low, gravel, but jiaoqiu can see that his tension level's come down a peg or two just by being here. ]
Shouldn't have been followed. [ a pause. and then a little more normal, a little more dryly; ] Hope you're not expecting a lot of hospitality.
[ outside, the sound of a train rumbling in the distance can be heard - as it passes by, it rattles the floor and walls of this apartment, indicating exactly why it's the way it is. therion holds still until it passes, and then pops the top off of the fancy booze and goes to pour himself a glass. ]
[ okay, well, this is the worst apartment in the world
jiaoqiu follows him easily enough, though by the end of it, especially when they have to go up a lot of stairs, he's out of breath. he is not built for a lot of physical activity - he takes public transit to work, and the elevator to his apartment. he's not going to die when they reach the hallway, but he looks like he's worn out, at the very least. especially in the cold, especially after a long shift. he doesn't complain, but his tail droops behind him and he's panting. lame.
of course, then therion lets them inside, and jiaoqiu forgets about being tired.
the inside of the apartment - the whole building, really - pains him. he's not unused to places like this, and he's by no means prissy about having to stay in a rundown building - he slept in tents for a good part of his life, in the mud, on the battlefield. it's just that thinking about therion being camped out here, in a place that barely counts as shelter... therion, curling up next to him in the warmth of jiaoqiu's bed, searching for heat, it's all very present in his mind. he looks over the flickering light, the blanket nest. the draft makes him shiver, his ears pinning back. the train makes him jump a bit, if only because he's not expecting it.
this probably isn't the first nest therion's had to stay in, jiaoqiu thinks.
and then therion pours himself a glass of whiskey, and jiaoqiu wanders after him and carefully slips his arms around him from behind. he hugs him, burying his face against therion's neck, and just stays there, eyes closed. jiaoqiu doesn't have a lot of body heat naturally, but he tries to give over some, anyway.
for right now he doesn't answer the snark, he's just. glad to see him, and very much wanting to Take Care. ]
[ NOT THE DROOPY TAIL any other time he'd be teasing him about his lack of stamina, but he's so very distressed at the moment that he does not. that's how you really know something's up.
it doesn't even really occur to him to be ashamed about the condition of this place, at least right now. it's safe - it's the first feeling of safety that he's had since he walked into that pharmacy, actually, because he knows they weren't followed, and he knows that if for some fucking reason someone tries to find him now, they'll just go to this place, which is as disposable as any other place he rests his head. jiaoqiu's gut feeling is correct - he's had many of these, in many different cities. early in his life, they were shared, but for the past few years, it's just been him in these little safehouses, alone, just the way he likes it. (or pretends to, at least.) this one's one of the better ones - it doesn't smell particularly terrible, and despite the train rattling by at all hours, he's gotten used to it, and he knows its hard to find, so it's one of the safest ones he's ever stayed in.
he still has to explain to jiaoqiu what the actual fuck is going on, but he's pretty sure he'll be able to do it better once he's calmed his nerves down, and despite not really being much of a drinker - he is way too paranoid for that - this should at least take the edge off. he must be clearly out of it, because he doesn't even really register that jiaoqiu is behind him (or maybe he just knows that he's safe) until he's right there, and though he jumps a little, it's not as bad as it could be.
he doesn't stop him. and in fact, after a very, very long beat, he just exhales out and leans a tiny bit into it. he doesn't want to explain, is the thing, and he feels shitty and exhausted just from one stupid fucking interaction, and that annoys him even worse. ugh.
just. ugh. he just holds the glass, and for a second, closes his eyes. ]
gently, he pets therion's side with his hand, an absent little motion. it's more for himself than it is for therion, but he imagines it won't hurt. his arms are low, giving therion room to drink if he wants to, full range of movement, but he's not letting go.
therion's less tense, he can tell, but not nearly enough, and jiaoqiu thinks about the way his pulse was going so fast he was in danger of a heart attack, and just hugs him a little more tightly. there's a lot of trust here, and he does see it. the way that therion doesn't hit him or push him away out of instinct from coming up behind him, the way he leans into it. the way he brought jiaoqiu here at all.
a sigh, after a long moment, and then: ]
Do you want to sit?
[ because he knows therion doesn't want to explain, but he's going to have to. ]
[ yeah. he knows, unfortunately, he's going to have to explain. he said he would. and - with darius floating around this city, ostensibly, it's for the better that he just knows, right? just in case. if something goes wrong, jiaoqiu had said, you shouldn't mention me. it's a little late for that, now, here, but it's the same concept.
he's quiet for a long moment, and then sighs, noisily, maybe a little dramatically, and knocks back the contents of the glass. it burns going down, and it's not nearly enough to get him tipsy, but it might take the edge off a little, and that's - just going to have to be what he needs. ]
Might as well.
[ he's decided he's going to go at this with a "well i guess this is fucking happening" kind of attitude because that will make him feel better about it, probably? he gestures with his arm like go on. not that there's. really anywhere to sit, and after a moment, he slips out of jiaoqiu's grasp, glass in hand, and makes his way over to the little living space, kicking the little pile of blankets off the air mattress and dropping one on top that's semi passable as a sheet, if nothing else. as is to be expected, it's kind of flat - sorry about your bones - but it's the only thing he's got.
therion sleeps with his back to the wall, always, and here, he sits the same way - horizontally on his stupid little bed, short legs kicked out in front of him, and leans back, tilting his head back against the wall, which is kind of cold. at least it's bracing. he eyes jiaoqiu from under his fringe as he does, watching to see what he decides to do. ]
jiaoqiu lets him go, and wanders a little absently after him as he kicks around. he watches him make a little space, and then has to go through like a whole dissertation of where it's acceptable to sit. does he sit next to therion? does he even sit on the mattress? does he take the floor? does he lean against the wall, is he allowed to sit with therion like, arm to arm, does he have to be not touching...
this is stupid but that is why he hesitates and kind of just stands there hopelessly for a long moment.
and then carefully he follows over and sits down on the floor, off the mattress, not too far from therion, back not against the wall. this is his default - putting himself on a different, lower level, like always, like the night that he curled up in front of the armchair instead of in therion's lap. he also winces a bit because his back hurts, but that's fine.
he'll move if therion moves him, it's just instinct to put himself in a second shitty position. ]
so sarcastic, and also he is happy for a distraction (short as it is) but also he would be a fool to not notice that jiaoqiu just - does this, puts himself on the floor. his air mattress does suck! it is not very comfortable! but it's kind of stupid for him to sit on the ground when the air mattress is like literally .5% better than the floor. that, and he doesn't have to sit on the floor in his shitty apartment, let alone in jiaoqiu's like, nice one. ]
[ he does not do that! because why would he. why would he say something helpful? therion? have you seen him?
the air mattress dips when he sits on it so they are both practically on the floor, so it's really not that much better. they end up dipping a little closer together if they weren't before, nearly hip to hip, and therion says nothing about it, looking down at the mostly empty glass held between his fingers.
[ well, therion doesn't startle or try to get away from him, so jiaoqiu settles close, hip to hip. his tail deposits itself directly into therion's lap, and jiaoqiu reaches to take his hand. the one that's cut up - not to hold it, to look it over, fussing at it. but also kind of to hold his hand in a way that isn't overt. ]
You knew him.
[ jiaoqiu prompts, digging into his pocket. he has to have like, antibacterial cream and bandaids somewhere on him, he's stupid like this. ]
he lets jiaoqiu take his hand. he's still so, so tense, even now - bringing the conversation back doesn't make it any better, but he lets him do whatever he wants, staring down at the giant pile of pink fluff in his lap. ]
I don't want any sympathy.
[ he says that, first. sort of like - a warning, though it's not, not really. just because he doesn't think the story's that worth it. it was his own fucking fault for deciding to trust darius with his life. he was young, and stupid, and he learned. and he sits in this room now, with another person, holding onto those tentative, scary bonds all over again, and he drinks the dregs of the whiskey in his cup. ]
... We ran in the same circle. [ that's a start, at least. ] When I was younger.
[ his nose wrinkles at the first statement. he's going to be a brat about it - unfortunately, you don't get any control over how I feel - but he stops himself, because that's not helpful. he's diplomatic sometimes. therion gets to keep having his tail in his lap as punishment.
but he does listen, and he doesn't let up, because it's time for some of this to come out. his eyes stay down on the the crescents therion dug into his palm, cleaning them with a sterile packet of wipes he found in his pocket. ]
And that ended poorly, I assume.
[ because people who part ways on good terms don't have conversations like the one in the pharmacy. ]
[ that's an understatement. his fingers curl and flex, but otherwise, he holds perfectly still, staring down at his tail and trying not to think about it too much. there's no sense in holding grudges, and he doesn't hold one - but that doesn't mean he ever, ever wanted to see darius again.
his voice stays even, but that sardonic tone stays in the words. self deprecating, mean. bitter - saying nothing, but saying a lot, all at once. ]
[ because there's a lot here, but jiaoqiu can't do anything if he doesn't know, and - well, therion knows about him. he knows what wrecked jiaoqiu to the point of being unable to function. it might be nice for the scales to be a little balanced. ]
[ let's just start with ripping that bandaid off - it'll give jiaoqiu something to chew on, and that one's much easier than any of the emotional hurt that came from it. that was worse than the fall itself. ]
jiaoqiu doesn't react with his face, but his ears always betray him - immediately they pin back against his skull. almost in an angry fashion. a beat, as he wrestles control of the words he wants to say and swallows them back, bitter. his tail curls and flutters in therion's lap. ]
[ it - it makes him laugh? just a short, harsh noise, kind of humorless but less than you'd expect. he can't look at jiaoqiu right now, so he doesn't. ]
Yeah. Real Nobel Peace Prize kinda guy.
[ so he jokes back - as dry as the desert, and stares down at his glass. like it means nothing, like it doesn't matter.
he wants it not to matter. he so, so badly wants it not to matter. but it matters sometimes on rainy days, when the places where his bones shattered ache and hurt and he hides it. it matters in ways he doesn't really articulate, in ways that he doesn't trust anyone, that he guards his every single vulnerability, that he runs from closeness, attachment, and this - this, right here, is the closest he's ever come to it.
silence passes.
You were so easily manipulated by cheap words. You're nothing but a stepping stone to me. ]
No one does anything for no reason. [ he says, and downs the rest of the drink and lets it burn. it's gone, now, just dregs, but he keeps the glass in his hand, rolls it across his palm. ] A crime family we robbed offered him a high position if he got rid of me. Simple as that.
[ he cleans the cuts. he wipes them down, no matter how small, and then carefully wraps a little bit of gauze around them and tapes it. a little overkill, maybe. or maybe not.
silence, for a moment, as he absorbs it. months ago, therion had heard jiaoqiu's story, and the pieces clicked into place. it's the same now - therion can be as flippant about it as he wants, but jiaoqiu can see the timeline. someone he cared about, someone who he was likely with for a long time when he was younger, threw him off a cliff for power. it makes a lot of things make sense. the way he shifts a little more gingerly on rainy days, the way getting him to stay the night was like pulling teeth, the way he took the long way to get to a ramshackle apartment, the way he comes through windows and the way he nearly bit jiaoqiu's hand off when jiaoqiu tried to bandage him that first night they met. the way he treated sex like a business transaction, until they got a little too carried away and started to give a shit.
jiaoqiu links their fingers together. holds his hand. ]
I'm sure that you know it isn't your fault that he betrayed you.
[ he says, and the response is so quick, because - well, he believes that a hundred percent. that's not the crux of the issue, though, maybe it kind of is? but not in the way you might think. he continues, acerbic and sharp: ]
Or, if it was, it was because I was too good at it. That's the whole fucking reason. That's the thing about thieves: we don't travel well in packs. You put a couple of egos together in a room for too long, and fur starts flying.
[ that was, after all, why. it was what darius said. he was the better thief between the two of them. the better lockpick. better at staying silent. better at not making clumsy mistakes, finding seamless entrance routes. it made darius crazy, and it took therion too fucking long to realize it. it's what he deserved for trusting him. and in a way this phrasing is his version of self deprecation - he makes himself look just as bad, like it was mutual, when in reality, he didn't actually do anything wrong and the betrayal hit him harder than the cliffside.
his hand feels hot. he looks down at it, at the gauze and the tape, and the fact that jiaoqiu is holding his hand, and the ugly molten fire in his chest wants to bubble over and explode, splattering out his emotions like blood at a crime scene, and it's so much that he forces himself to look away from it, and that he can't, can't hold his hand back. can't squeeze or hold on. ]
He gave me this nice little parting gift [ a jerk of his shoulder towards his eye, covered by his bangs ] and chucked me off the side of the cliff. No wonder seeing me was such a surprise - he thought he finished the job.
You have never, in the time I have known you, had an ego. You are capable of exactly what you say you're capable of. I don't believe that this was anything that you predicted would happen. In fact, to me, it sounds like jealousy.
[ first of all. it's fine that he doesn't hold his hand back - he doesn't expect him to, because that'd be like reaching to grab out for someone to save him from falling, and he can't do that, because the fear of nobody reaching back is far more painful than hitting the ground. he understands it, now. but he is reaching. as much as the sludge allows him to lift his hand, he is trying. his tail flicks in therion's lap. ]
I only spoke with him for a few moments, and I could tell his confidence is not earned. He is all posture.
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no subject
he does not bother looking in his pockets. ]
No. He flirted with me, poorly.
[ jiaoqiu says, with a hint of disgust. he presses his sleeve to whatever the blood came from, ear flicking violently. and then he tries to catch therion's gaze, expression softening. ]
I'm fine, Therion. I mean that. Take a breath.
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in the meantime, the sharp, rapid fire questions continue, ignoring him. ]
Was there any medicine on the counter? Did you check the cash register?
[ a tremor quakes through his hands, just once, and therion bites back a half growl of frustration. he doesn't yank his hand out of jiaoqiu's grip, but he does pull the other one away from his pockets once he's satisfied. good. he's fine. it's fine. it's -] You wouldn't have any idea if you weren't.
[ fine. or at least, he sure as hell wouldn't have any idea that he got pickpocketed. they were both good at it, was the thing - therion was always better, which was the crux of the issue, but he can only imagine how darius has improved in the many years that have passed.
belatedly, take a breath registers, and he does, but no one would call it anything near relaxing. therion brings his free hand up and scrubs it over his face again, leaving a little blood on his cheek, and then he looks around again, like he's checking their surroundings. ]
no subject
still, he gets it. he lets therion dig around in his pockets, with a huff. ]
I didn't check the cash register. The only medicine was his own.
[ calmly. he's measured, gently wiping the blood from therion's palm. a beat, and then he pushes therion's sleeve up his arm and presses his fingers to therion's pulse. not for any medical reason, just to say that he's here. there's no panic or fear in him, just... concern, mostly, and it shows on his face. ]
I'm a healer. I know very well when there's something wrong with me. Therion.
[ look at him. telegraphed, very clear where he's reaching, jiaoqiu tilts therion's face away from frantically looking around, and directs his gaze to jiaoqiu's. he wipes the blood from his cheek, adjusts therion's hair so it's safely over his ruined eye, his own gold eyes soft and worried. ]
Explain, please.
no subject
the feeling of his pulse cements it - it is going rabbit fast, to the point that it's certainly unhealthy, and it hasn't calmed down for a second since they left the store, and it might not for hours. he feels so wildly on edge, like a prey animal in a predator's territory, and that makes him feel even worse. the twin feelings of anxious awful dread and fury that it's still bothering him this much, that he can't just fucking shake this off.
the telegraphed movement stops him from looking around, even though he's clearly still incredibly tense. he doesn't flinch or anything, but he's holding himself unnaturally still, unnaturally fine, he's fine, he's fine. explain, jiaoqiu says. he doesn't even know where to start. the worry in his eyes feels like he's breathing in cold air again, bracing and unfamiliar and he knows how honest it is. the little gesture like he sets his armor back into place, all honest, too.
a few months ago, he would've shoved this away. no, no thank you, no i won't, goodbye forever. at this point, though - therion says, gruffly, finally: ]
Not here.
[ not - this close to the pharmacy. not in public. he pulls away a little, looks down and then back. ] Come on.
[ and he doesn't offer much explanation beyond that, because he steps back, and then he steps out to the edge of the alleyway, and then he waits. a nonverbal "follow me" - though therion doesn't ever let jiaoqiu out of his peripherial, really, but if he'll follow, they can go. ]
no subject
but he lets therion call the shots. because - therion doesn't turn him down. doesn't run. he trusts him, and it's such a relief. it makes his whole body ache with it. he thinks about saying thank you. he doesn't, but it's clear in his expression.
he'll step in if it seems like therion leading is actually going to hurt him, but for now, jiaoqiu is obedient and calm. a rock, a lighthouse. he lets therion go, brushing his hand down therion's back in a comforting gesture as he turns. and then he follows. ]
I'm with you.
[ he says, easily enough. just a reminder. he's not going anywhere but to wherever therion is taking him. ]
no subject
and. well, they're not going to the nice warm apartment. that's for sure. in fact, therion leads the way briskly, constantly looking back and over his shoulder, slipping through the roughshod district of town. they take a path that twists and turns, clearly the long, long way around. for blocks, for a while - ten, fifteen, twenty, nearly thirty minutes of what would be a meandering, winding stroll were it not laced with his own anxiety. it probably does look a little sketchy to be doing this, but if jiaoqiu trusts him for some fucking reason, they come back out into a nicer part of town, past many pretty nice houses, and eventually, to a train station, and beyond that, to a dilapidated old building that might be an apartment complex, or like, maybe a condemned hotel. but therion pushes the back door of this building open with a flick of his wrist and holds it for jiaoqiu, until the door shuts with a final click. he looks up, around, checks his surroundings, and then leads him up (sorry) a lot of stairs.
however, eventually, down a dingy hallway with barely working lights and musty old carpet, he stops at a door and produces - a key, and pops the door open.
it's an apartment. it's. not great? it's really not great. jiaoqiu's might be bland, but it's a marked improvement over this little place, which consists of a tiny kitchenette, what amounts to a nest of blankets and a couple of pillows settled onto what looks like an air mattress, and a backpack of some kind leaning against a wall, a shitty bathroom with a tiny shower, and... that's about it. it's drafty as hell in here, but after some fiddling, therion flicks on a buzzy, old light and there's the click-click-click of three deadbolts, and he leans against the door and sighs.
he feels like he needs - god. a drink, that sounds fucking great, and without any other word, he pushes off the door and goes to the tiny kitchen cabinets and out of nowhere pulls out a really fucking nice bottle of whiskey and a couple of cups.
but talk about a sign of trust. this is his safehouse - the tiny, shitty place he used to spend time the most when he was in this town. his voice is low, gravel, but jiaoqiu can see that his tension level's come down a peg or two just by being here. ]
Shouldn't have been followed. [ a pause. and then a little more normal, a little more dryly; ] Hope you're not expecting a lot of hospitality.
[ outside, the sound of a train rumbling in the distance can be heard - as it passes by, it rattles the floor and walls of this apartment, indicating exactly why it's the way it is. therion holds still until it passes, and then pops the top off of the fancy booze and goes to pour himself a glass. ]
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jiaoqiu follows him easily enough, though by the end of it, especially when they have to go up a lot of stairs, he's out of breath. he is not built for a lot of physical activity - he takes public transit to work, and the elevator to his apartment. he's not going to die when they reach the hallway, but he looks like he's worn out, at the very least. especially in the cold, especially after a long shift. he doesn't complain, but his tail droops behind him and he's panting. lame.
of course, then therion lets them inside, and jiaoqiu forgets about being tired.
the inside of the apartment - the whole building, really - pains him. he's not unused to places like this, and he's by no means prissy about having to stay in a rundown building - he slept in tents for a good part of his life, in the mud, on the battlefield. it's just that thinking about therion being camped out here, in a place that barely counts as shelter... therion, curling up next to him in the warmth of jiaoqiu's bed, searching for heat, it's all very present in his mind. he looks over the flickering light, the blanket nest. the draft makes him shiver, his ears pinning back. the train makes him jump a bit, if only because he's not expecting it.
this probably isn't the first nest therion's had to stay in, jiaoqiu thinks.
and then therion pours himself a glass of whiskey, and jiaoqiu wanders after him and carefully slips his arms around him from behind. he hugs him, burying his face against therion's neck, and just stays there, eyes closed. jiaoqiu doesn't have a lot of body heat naturally, but he tries to give over some, anyway.
for right now he doesn't answer the snark, he's just. glad to see him, and very much wanting to Take Care. ]
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it doesn't even really occur to him to be ashamed about the condition of this place, at least right now. it's safe - it's the first feeling of safety that he's had since he walked into that pharmacy, actually, because he knows they weren't followed, and he knows that if for some fucking reason someone tries to find him now, they'll just go to this place, which is as disposable as any other place he rests his head. jiaoqiu's gut feeling is correct - he's had many of these, in many different cities. early in his life, they were shared, but for the past few years, it's just been him in these little safehouses, alone, just the way he likes it. (or pretends to, at least.) this one's one of the better ones - it doesn't smell particularly terrible, and despite the train rattling by at all hours, he's gotten used to it, and he knows its hard to find, so it's one of the safest ones he's ever stayed in.
he still has to explain to jiaoqiu what the actual fuck is going on, but he's pretty sure he'll be able to do it better once he's calmed his nerves down, and despite not really being much of a drinker - he is way too paranoid for that - this should at least take the edge off. he must be clearly out of it, because he doesn't even really register that jiaoqiu is behind him (or maybe he just knows that he's safe) until he's right there, and though he jumps a little, it's not as bad as it could be.
he doesn't stop him. and in fact, after a very, very long beat, he just exhales out and leans a tiny bit into it. he doesn't want to explain, is the thing, and he feels shitty and exhausted just from one stupid fucking interaction, and that annoys him even worse. ugh.
just. ugh. he just holds the glass, and for a second, closes his eyes. ]
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gently, he pets therion's side with his hand, an absent little motion. it's more for himself than it is for therion, but he imagines it won't hurt. his arms are low, giving therion room to drink if he wants to, full range of movement, but he's not letting go.
therion's less tense, he can tell, but not nearly enough, and jiaoqiu thinks about the way his pulse was going so fast he was in danger of a heart attack, and just hugs him a little more tightly. there's a lot of trust here, and he does see it. the way that therion doesn't hit him or push him away out of instinct from coming up behind him, the way he leans into it. the way he brought jiaoqiu here at all.
a sigh, after a long moment, and then: ]
Do you want to sit?
[ because he knows therion doesn't want to explain, but he's going to have to. ]
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he's quiet for a long moment, and then sighs, noisily, maybe a little dramatically, and knocks back the contents of the glass. it burns going down, and it's not nearly enough to get him tipsy, but it might take the edge off a little, and that's - just going to have to be what he needs. ]
Might as well.
[ he's decided he's going to go at this with a "well i guess this is fucking happening" kind of attitude because that will make him feel better about it, probably? he gestures with his arm like go on. not that there's. really anywhere to sit, and after a moment, he slips out of jiaoqiu's grasp, glass in hand, and makes his way over to the little living space, kicking the little pile of blankets off the air mattress and dropping one on top that's semi passable as a sheet, if nothing else. as is to be expected, it's kind of flat - sorry about your bones - but it's the only thing he's got.
therion sleeps with his back to the wall, always, and here, he sits the same way - horizontally on his stupid little bed, short legs kicked out in front of him, and leans back, tilting his head back against the wall, which is kind of cold. at least it's bracing. he eyes jiaoqiu from under his fringe as he does, watching to see what he decides to do. ]
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jiaoqiu lets him go, and wanders a little absently after him as he kicks around. he watches him make a little space, and then has to go through like a whole dissertation of where it's acceptable to sit. does he sit next to therion? does he even sit on the mattress? does he take the floor? does he lean against the wall, is he allowed to sit with therion like, arm to arm, does he have to be not touching...
this is stupid but that is why he hesitates and kind of just stands there hopelessly for a long moment.
and then carefully he follows over and sits down on the floor, off the mattress, not too far from therion, back not against the wall. this is his default - putting himself on a different, lower level, like always, like the night that he curled up in front of the armchair instead of in therion's lap. he also winces a bit because his back hurts, but that's fine.
he'll move if therion moves him, it's just instinct to put himself in a second shitty position. ]
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Wow, air mattress too good for you, fluff?
[ this is
so sarcastic, and also he is happy for a distraction (short as it is) but also he would be a fool to not notice that jiaoqiu just - does this, puts himself on the floor. his air mattress does suck! it is not very comfortable! but it's kind of stupid for him to sit on the ground when the air mattress is like literally .5% better than the floor. that, and he doesn't have to sit on the floor in his shitty apartment, let alone in jiaoqiu's like, nice one. ]
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If you want me to sit somewhere specific, tell me where.
[ otherwise!! his instinct is to degrade himself in some way!! but he'll move up to the air mattress, at least. huff. ]
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the air mattress dips when he sits on it so they are both practically on the floor, so it's really not that much better. they end up dipping a little closer together if they weren't before, nearly hip to hip, and therion says nothing about it, looking down at the mostly empty glass held between his fingers.
and... not saying anything, at first. ]
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You knew him.
[ jiaoqiu prompts, digging into his pocket. he has to have like, antibacterial cream and bandaids somewhere on him, he's stupid like this. ]
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he lets jiaoqiu take his hand. he's still so, so tense, even now - bringing the conversation back doesn't make it any better, but he lets him do whatever he wants, staring down at the giant pile of pink fluff in his lap. ]
I don't want any sympathy.
[ he says that, first. sort of like - a warning, though it's not, not really. just because he doesn't think the story's that worth it. it was his own fucking fault for deciding to trust darius with his life. he was young, and stupid, and he learned. and he sits in this room now, with another person, holding onto those tentative, scary bonds all over again, and he drinks the dregs of the whiskey in his cup. ]
... We ran in the same circle. [ that's a start, at least. ] When I was younger.
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but he does listen, and he doesn't let up, because it's time for some of this to come out. his eyes stay down on the the crescents therion dug into his palm, cleaning them with a sterile packet of wipes he found in his pocket. ]
And that ended poorly, I assume.
[ because people who part ways on good terms don't have conversations like the one in the pharmacy. ]
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Yeah, you could say that.
[ that's an understatement. his fingers curl and flex, but otherwise, he holds perfectly still, staring down at his tail and trying not to think about it too much. there's no sense in holding grudges, and he doesn't hold one - but that doesn't mean he ever, ever wanted to see darius again.
his voice stays even, but that sardonic tone stays in the words. self deprecating, mean. bitter - saying nothing, but saying a lot, all at once. ]
Taught me a lesson or two.
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Will you tell me what happened? Please.
[ because there's a lot here, but jiaoqiu can't do anything if he doesn't know, and - well, therion knows about him. he knows what wrecked jiaoqiu to the point of being unable to function. it might be nice for the scales to be a little balanced. ]
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He pushed me off a cliff.
[ let's just start with ripping that bandaid off - it'll give jiaoqiu something to chew on, and that one's much easier than any of the emotional hurt that came from it. that was worse than the fall itself. ]
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jiaoqiu doesn't react with his face, but his ears always betray him - immediately they pin back against his skull. almost in an angry fashion. a beat, as he wrestles control of the words he wants to say and swallows them back, bitter. his tail curls and flutters in therion's lap. ]
That's not very nice.
[ dryly. ]
For no reason?
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Yeah. Real Nobel Peace Prize kinda guy.
[ so he jokes back - as dry as the desert, and stares down at his glass. like it means nothing, like it doesn't matter.
he wants it not to matter. he so, so badly wants it not to matter. but it matters sometimes on rainy days, when the places where his bones shattered ache and hurt and he hides it. it matters in ways he doesn't really articulate, in ways that he doesn't trust anyone, that he guards his every single vulnerability, that he runs from closeness, attachment, and this - this, right here, is the closest he's ever come to it.
silence passes.
You were so easily manipulated by cheap words. You're nothing but a stepping stone to me. ]
No one does anything for no reason. [ he says, and downs the rest of the drink and lets it burn. it's gone, now, just dregs, but he keeps the glass in his hand, rolls it across his palm. ] A crime family we robbed offered him a high position if he got rid of me. Simple as that.
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silence, for a moment, as he absorbs it. months ago, therion had heard jiaoqiu's story, and the pieces clicked into place. it's the same now - therion can be as flippant about it as he wants, but jiaoqiu can see the timeline. someone he cared about, someone who he was likely with for a long time when he was younger, threw him off a cliff for power. it makes a lot of things make sense. the way he shifts a little more gingerly on rainy days, the way getting him to stay the night was like pulling teeth, the way he took the long way to get to a ramshackle apartment, the way he comes through windows and the way he nearly bit jiaoqiu's hand off when jiaoqiu tried to bandage him that first night they met. the way he treated sex like a business transaction, until they got a little too carried away and started to give a shit.
jiaoqiu links their fingers together. holds his hand. ]
I'm sure that you know it isn't your fault that he betrayed you.
[ people die. not your fault. ]
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[ he says, and the response is so quick, because - well, he believes that a hundred percent. that's not the crux of the issue, though, maybe it kind of is? but not in the way you might think. he continues, acerbic and sharp: ]
Or, if it was, it was because I was too good at it. That's the whole fucking reason. That's the thing about thieves: we don't travel well in packs. You put a couple of egos together in a room for too long, and fur starts flying.
[ that was, after all, why. it was what darius said. he was the better thief between the two of them. the better lockpick. better at staying silent. better at not making clumsy mistakes, finding seamless entrance routes. it made darius crazy, and it took therion too fucking long to realize it. it's what he deserved for trusting him. and in a way this phrasing is his version of self deprecation - he makes himself look just as bad, like it was mutual, when in reality, he didn't actually do anything wrong and the betrayal hit him harder than the cliffside.
his hand feels hot. he looks down at it, at the gauze and the tape, and the fact that jiaoqiu is holding his hand, and the ugly molten fire in his chest wants to bubble over and explode, splattering out his emotions like blood at a crime scene, and it's so much that he forces himself to look away from it, and that he can't, can't hold his hand back. can't squeeze or hold on. ]
He gave me this nice little parting gift [ a jerk of his shoulder towards his eye, covered by his bangs ] and chucked me off the side of the cliff. No wonder seeing me was such a surprise - he thought he finished the job.
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You have never, in the time I have known you, had an ego. You are capable of exactly what you say you're capable of. I don't believe that this was anything that you predicted would happen. In fact, to me, it sounds like jealousy.
[ first of all. it's fine that he doesn't hold his hand back - he doesn't expect him to, because that'd be like reaching to grab out for someone to save him from falling, and he can't do that, because the fear of nobody reaching back is far more painful than hitting the ground. he understands it, now. but he is reaching. as much as the sludge allows him to lift his hand, he is trying. his tail flicks in therion's lap. ]
I only spoke with him for a few moments, and I could tell his confidence is not earned. He is all posture.
[ jiaoqiu said darius has a small dick ]
... Is he going to come after you?
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