What would you lose this time, your hearing? Your tongue?
[ it comes out sharp, sharper than he means it to. angry, because that's all he ever knows how to show. it comes from a different place, though, this time. worry and frustration, something fierce, something angry. ]
Guy seemed thrilled to have you back in there. [ and whose fault was that? he thinks about he's an informant and how dissonant it felt with the condition jiaoqiu was in, and it snarls unhappily in his stomach. ] The only way you were getting out was in a body bag.
[ he says, finally, to the first part. because he doesn't really want to be dead. he doesn't always want to be alive, but that doesn't mean death is preferable. the anger gets him - he knows this is how therion shows concern, but there's a weird tinge to it that he can't quite figure out. his overheated brain works overtime as he tries to make sense of what this anger means. obviously, therion's frustrated, but he can't figure out if it's because he's angry at jiaoqiu for being cornered, or injured, or something else. it does not occur to him that therion might be angry at himself. ]
You came to get me. [ ... ] You... almost died, to get me.
[ ooooh his expression at that is not good - it flickers across even his face, something thunderously unhappy, and he looks away. better to be deaf or wordless. better to not be a fucking corpse at all.
you almost died, he says, and therion scoffs - it hurts his still recovering body, but he doesn't care. ]
Yeah, well - you wouldn't have even been in that situation if it wasn't for me.
[ it's out of his mouth before he has any time to really think about it. he thinks about darius' smug fucking face on the way out. how he's going to be seeing it in his nightmares all over again, fresh and infuriating.
another pause. and then, roughly - ] You almost died.
silence, for a moment, and then he slowly shifts therion's fingers to his pulse. lets him feel it against his neck. it's a little slow, but it's there. he strokes therion's hand with his thumb. slowly, the shaking is easing up. ]
Is that what you think? That... it's your fault? [ he asks, soft. ] It wasn't. It was an inevitability for me, whether... I'd met you or not.
[ oooghgh this is!!! too much, this is making it worse, he feels seen, and his fingers twitch when he feels his pulse. he'd felt it in that stupid room, too. there is not a single moment in his life he ever felt more afraid than when he heard that tiny whimper and the tearing of bone and flesh from body, and he thought he was too late.
it's just. it's jiaoqiu, being jiaoqiu, as usual. ]
Stop - stop, stop trying to comfort me, you - [ god he could shake jiaoqiu. he won't, but oh, he could shake him. the problem is he doesn't even know what he wants to say - he feels like a livewire, about three seconds from jittering out of his skin. he shouldn't be here. he should be - he doesn't even know what, anymore, and he scrubs his hand over his face, harshly, over his bad eye. ] God.
[ that makes jiaoqiu laugh? it shouldn't, it's not really funny. it just makes him cough-huff one out, weakly. he's knows this is a lot for his stupid tsundere thief - and he doesn't even correct himself on the thought. his. the last three days in the hotel, the gradual ease of therion's shoulders, and now, watching him jitter at the thought of having to be honest with himself about how badly this affects him. all of that, he thinks, makes therion so very much his. and it's okay, if therion doesn't feel the same, but he can't quite lie to himself anymore about it.
jiaoqiu has shitty self worth, but he's not stupid. he can see this. he knows that he's a lost cause, because the first thing he thought about when he woke up was whether or not therion survived. ]
Therion.
[ he mumbles, watching him. ]
What do you think happened?
[ what did you hear? let him explain, let him help. let him connect, stop putting up that wall. he wants in, he needs in. ]
[ don't laugh - his head whips up to glower automatically, and in any other situation, he might fluster. he's not sure he has enough blood in his body left for it, so there's that but it's not normal, nothing about this is normal. his fingers twitch, again, and he can't even make himself pull his hand back and away from him, and that's freaking him out, too. stupid. fucking stupid.
god. therion takes a breath from behind his other hand. inhale, exhale, drags his other hand down his face and drops it into his lap. ]
Information trade. [ a pause - his eyes flick back to jiaoqiu's face, again. ] Did you work for him?
After the General and her retainer died, I tracked... him down. [ he has to take breaks, because even talking hurts, but he's going to explain or else. ] I convinced him that I was swayed... by the borisin creed. And I worked to bring him down. I wanted... to ruin his life.
[ a little smile. ]
Death was not enough for him. I wanted to... break him.
[ the sheer honesty of this, the fact that he's delivering the story, helps to settle tiniest bit of that anxious, awful feeling. that nagging little voice in the back of his head from the bar's finally quieting down, even if it's just to a whisper instead of to a shout.
he regards him, regards that. frankly, he respects it - he knows jiaoqiu's kind of shady - but he can't say that now, not yet. therion has no shitty commentary for it, which is how you know he's a little distraught, or at least a lot focused. ]
Did you stop? [ working for him. his voice stays level. ]
What I was doing... I couldn't keep doing. It was killing me. [ having to bring people in, having to gather information so that the people he wanted to save, wanted to treat - they got funneled in and torn apart, and nothing he could do would ruin hoolay. he had no morals. nothing to exploit.
he stood on a rooftop and he stared over the edge of it, and he was a step away from walking on air when feixiao's angry voice scolded him into moving back, and he realized - he couldn't keep on. he had to get away. ]
But he didn't want... to let me go. He wouldn't. I know... too much, and he'd grown fond of having a pet that... he could do whatever he wanted to.
[ he shifts again - like he wants to curl up. he can't, he's too broken for it, but maybe that explains why he flinched so badly, that one night. ]
So when he assigned me a mission to find new targets... I ran.
that's therion's worst fucking nightmare. and he saw exactly what "whatever he wanted" looked like, when he came across jiaoqiu, tied to that chair. how much of that was punishment for running away, and how much of it was playing with his food? the idea rankles him, makes all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and for a moment his displeasure with the concept flickers across his eyes.
it explains a lot, subconsciously - when he shifts for the next time, therion says, quiet: ] Stop moving. [ but it's not mean, just an aside. a fussy phrase, mumbled almost automatically, while he thinks over everything he's been told. hoolay's reaction. the way he and his goons gave chase.
but therion's a good thief. and right now, he's finding this particular treasure he wants to keep, and that's just as scary, too. he doesn't relax, not yet, because he can't just believe it, even though he should, even though it's honest. he has to ask, tongue too big for his mouth, acid in his stomach, in his throat. ]
... How long ago?
[ you think that little rat thief was the target? ]
[ he says, absently. he's fading, just a little, but. he stops moving, when therion tells him to. obediently. he glances up at therion, still holding his hand. ]
It really was only a matter of time until he caught up. [ he's so unaware - it doesn't even occur to him what hoolay might have said to his underlings, what lies he might have spread to save face. he doesn't know anything about darius passing on information, he doesn't even know that it wasn't common knowledge that he ran. ]
I'm... sorry, that you were in the... line of fire. You didn't... you didn't have to come for me. Thank you.
[ well, he's sure about to know, because he looks away again, staring at his feet, feeling the urge to bolt, again. when he closes his eyes, he can see darius' stupid fucking face staring down at him from that cliff, from that building. jiaoqiu's unsteady breathing against the back of his neck as they leapt from the top of it. dying, on his back. thrown back into danger, because... because, what? because he was too fucking weak to break away from jiaoqiu earlier? because he was too stupid to leave town, he should have left town, he should've - they both should've --
he cuts himself off, mentally, verbally, cuts off jiaoqiu with: ]
Don't.
[ therion says, because he can't - he can't take his fucking gratitude, not right now, and he says, bluntly, ripped raw. ]
They found you because of me. [ because of darius, but he doesn't say that. ]
[ it takes him a long minute to pry the words out of his mouth, that burn of guilt and shame curled up in his chest. he could just say it was him.
he stares at the wall ahead, and not at jiaoqiu. no matter how much nonchalance he puts on his face, it's not enough. the grim, frustrated edge to his voice won't quite be sanded away. ]
- Darius is the one who told them about you. I pretended to be his underling to get into the bar. [ and he was let in with no trouble. spitefully, he thinks, well - he probably ruined that relationship. or at least he ruined darius' fucking day, which is what he deserves.
it makes him so angry, because it means he was careless. he doesn't know how they found them, not after he was so fucking careful. should've just stayed in the safehouse. should've just skipped town. should've, should've, should've. and that anger simmers and bubbles under the surface, and in this moment, it couldn't be more obvious that while he is angry at jiaoqiu for his flippant comment about his senses earlier, the most vicious of that anger's self-directed. ] So there you go.
I fail to see how that's your fault. Darius is the one who did it.
[ like, he's not stupid, he knows - he knows. that it feels like your fault, when it was done to hurt you. that someone you care about got wrecked because villains always go for your loved ones first. it hurts so much more it isn't you. he understands, and he thinks he'd feel the same way, but. ]
... Therion. [ he says, firmly, a little sharp. shifts again, like he's going to sit up. ]
He would have had nobody to tell, if I hadn't had the karma coming for me. [ his breath is harsh, but he manages. ] It doesn't matter.
[ but that's the thing, it is his fault. it's what he fucking gets. he can almost hear it, right out of darius' stupid mouth. Sentimental jack and jill with no fuckin' sense. Makes you too easy. god, he hates that too. he hates being easy, he hates the fact that he could fall for being manipulated again - except he didn't, he doesn't, he doesn't think he was, pathetically, and thinking that makes him even angrier. he hates that darius' shadow over his life has returned in the worst kind of way. that this was what he was afraid of: bringing his shitty life to jiaoqiu's door.
no matter how shitty it already was, apparently. maybe that's why he kept coming back around. a couple of broken pieces where the edges don't just fit right might understand each other better than a nice one. ]
I knew he was going to do something. [ he says, more to himself than anything else. frustrated, irritated, annoyed at his carelessness, frustrated as a whole. all that, but when jiaoqiu starts to sit up, he makes a little noise, fussy, trying to make sure he doesn't hurt himself any further, giving him a look even in the midst of all of that that's distressed. despite all those sharp edges and all that ferocity, all that anger, all his bluster about selfishness and being a shitty little parasite, a waste, he spent his entire time yesterday protecting jiaoqiu with his life. ]
I don't - [ he starts again. stops. starts again, like a stuttering, beat up old car. it doesn't matter, that jiaoqiu doesn't blame him. he blames himself, for this, for all of it. he takes a sharp breath, and shakes his head, rubs his hand over his face again. all of his injuries hurt, but the old scar over his eye hurts the worst. ] -- it doesn't matter.
[ he sits up anyway. it hurts, but it hurts worse to see therion beating himself up for this.
carefully, he reaches for therion. he tugs at him - pulls his hand away from his face. stop scrubbing, stop hurting yourself. they're both bandaged and beat to fuck, and jiaoqiu has never been so glad to be alive, because they both are, and because therion has been trying to protect him and he has to start caring about his life a little more, because therion does. therion cares.
so come here. please. let him hug you, let him cling, skin to bandaged skin. ]
If Hoolay had taken you, would that be my fault? [ ... ] You hate it when I can't care about myself. I hate it when you blame yourself for everything that Darius did to you.
If Hoolay took me, it would've been my own damn fault.
[ this is not the point of what jiaoqiu is saying but he has to point it out anyway. therion's good at escaping. which - even the name is a reminder. he doubts that hulking wolf is going to be too pleased with therion's little theft, but that's a problem for when the insane woman with the killer rabbit isn't currently keeping them in relative safety.
(for now. for now. he's too paranoid, too untrusting, to think that will last.)
his hand stays there for a second, and there's a moment of resistance, but, it doesn't last. jiaoqiu pulling is a sign of life, and when he looks at him from under his fringe, really looks at him, he looks for the briefest second just vulnerable. afraid, but not of the gentle, pulling hand. or maybe that's the scariest thing at all.
it shutters away in a second - an eventually, he allows himself to be pulled over, easing slightly out of the chair to make it easier on him. he wasn't injured as badly, and he's got a high pain tolerance, and jiaoqiu is a weenie, and after a long, long moment, he allows himself to put his knee on the bed and ease a little closer, tentatively. it feels like he's stealing it.
he doesn't have any clever response to that, because he thinks it's different, so he just doesn't say anything, stormy and silent, but coming closer all the same. ]
but he doesn't press, because he sees that vulnerable look, and it makes him ache. therion eases closer, and jiaoqiu tugs him further, tries to get him to lay down. he can't stay sitting up for too long, it makes him dizzy and all of his body scream with it - but he wants therion close, he wants to try and poorly keep him here. he's so frightened by the idea of therion leaving. this time, not because he can't bear to be attached, but because he thinks jiaoqiu would be safer.
he strokes his fingers up and down therion's back. tentative. ]
... When he took me, I decided I would do whatever I had to in order to stay alive. [ he says, finally, pressing his face against therion's hair. he swallows hard. ] Because of you. Because I wanted... because these days in that hotel, I have been... so awake. With you.
the past twelve hours have been a long series of painful emotional punches. the first came when jiaoqiu was gone; the second, the chatter about the informant; the third, seeing jiaoqiu as injured as he was, dead in the eyes. it makes i have been so awake, with you stick even harder. he'd have to be stupid to not notice that, that he's not had to shake jiaoqiu out of his own memories. all of that could have just been destroyed, but he's more present than he would have ever expected if he ever woke up, and he is not only present, but he's present because of therion.
he lets himself be eased. he's tired, too. painkillers take the edge off, but he's used to a sort of constant pain most days anyway - the blood loss, however, is not easy to make up no matter what magic that doctor used. for once, he lets himself go, moving to lean on his arm, first, and then slowly, slowly lays down beside him. it feels so intimate. so close. something he's stolen away and something he doesn't want to let go.
he's so tense. even exhausted, he's so tense. he lets him press his nose in his hair, and for the second there, he lets himself hide and closes his eyes, and some feral creature goes still and quiet, the lightning-and-thunder in his chest settling down to low rain.
he swallows. hard. and says, voice rough: ] That wasn't normal. This is.
[ a repetition. this is my normal. this - the danger, the hurt, the constant running. this is normal to therion, and he doesn't want to throw more blood all over his life. it's almost like an admittance, the tentative step forward once more.
(but maybe... maybe it was already there, in the first place.) ]
I know. You think I am not used to this, but I spent most of my youth on a war-torn battlefield.
[ he has been through worse. he poisoned himself and woke up, in the dark, to hear that the people he loved most in the world had died. this time, he woke up, in the dark, and the person he loves most in this world was alive and there, reminding him he isn't blind.
there's something about the intimacy of letting someone this close when everything hurts. therion is so tense and jiaoqiu just wants him to relax. just a little. he wants to know that therion will be there when he wakes up. he wants to have some kind of certainty, he wants to be stolen. he wants. it makes his eyes burn. he hasn't cried in years, and he doesn't think he even can anymore.
so instead, he tangles himself up in therion, injuries be damned, and strokes at his uninjured skin, and tries not to let nihility tell him none of this matters, tries to push away the voice that says what is the use of trying to hold onto a kite that wants the gale more than you? ]
It could be a little easier, if you would let it. If you would let me. [ he says, exhausted, voice cracking slightly. ] I am running out of ways to tell you that I care about you.
[ and not a single thing is going to change it. nothing has. not even this. ]
[ there's silence, at first - not unusual - while he tries to find the right words to say. he lets jiaoqiu curl closer, lets him tangle them together, all gangly limbs and fluffed tail, soaks up that tiny, tiny bit of warmth like curling around a candle on a cold's winter night.
and slowly, slowly, his hand comes up, and curls tight in whatever clothes lingsha stuck jiaoqiu in, almost white knuckles, forehead pressed to an uninjured piece of him, and therion swallows, hard. his voice almost cracks, too, tiny, raw. ]
I know.
[ therion knows. he knows, of course he knows jiaoqiu cares. he'd nearly been spooked into thinking he betrayed him, too, only to find it was almost the opposite, that instead he stuck to life when he could have just given up, after therion told him to stop having a death wish, he stayed, and he survived, and now after all of that, he still wants to be here. jiaoqiu is still here.
caring about something is terrifying. he has nothing, as a thief. no place to lay his head, no precious gifts or items, nothing that he has to worry about being stolen away, until now, and it was nearly taken. and he'd risked his entire life to get him back, terrified, past the fear of the betrayal, trusted his stupid gut and trusted jiaoqiu, and this time, it was right. so he knows. he knows, he knows that he cares, and he knows...
he knows he does too. admitting to it feels so impossible, because it makes it real. and if it's real, it can be lost, broken, stolen, taken away. but what makes it more real than this? than jiaoqiu's blood all over his clothes? in order to begin to heal, someone said to him once upon a time, we have to learn how to trust again.
another long, silent moment, his eyes closed, fingers held tight, and he says, just loud enough to be heard: ]
I thought you were dead. [ the utter terror he'd felt when he saw him in that stupid chair, dead eyed and bloodied and not moving, gripped him to his core. i thought you were dead, because of me.
it's his way of saying it back, that he cares, too, that he cares ore than he knows how to put into words. i let you into my life. i let you into my safehouse. i risked my life for you and i'd do it a hundred times over if i had to to keep you alive. i trust you, i trust you, i trust you. he closes his eyes, and presses his forehead into him with a little more pressure, mouth drawn into a tight line.
maybe the answer lies there. maybe, in the sound of a fluttering heartbeat that’s so much steadier than it was when therion found him, that’s the idea. maybe he can’t say it. maybe he should remember that he’s a thief.
he pushes himself up, and reaches back- clever fingers, small hands- and finds his face, his jaw, and surges up to press a kiss to his mouth. its clumsier than usual, missing the mark at first, then readjusting. he’s exhausted, for one, but second, it’s just driven by pure, gut emotion. a barrier that was only broken fairly recently- and the kiss itself is closed mouthed and desperate all the same. understand. please understand. ]
[ it's a little warmer when they're curled together. he's all broken bones and gouges, but there's a blanket on this bed and he reaches for it to rest it over them. he lets therion grip at his clothes, he lets him hide. he wraps an arm around therion, sliding a hand up to rest against the back of his neck, protective. it's safe here. for both of them. it doesn't always have to be, but it is now.
the little almost-crack in his voice makes his heart ache so badly. he'd do anything to ease it for a while.
and he's going to reply, but therion cuts him off. he kisses him, and jiaoqiu lets out a little sound, surprised, but - it's not unwelcome. the meaning isn't lost either. they hadn't kissed, an unspoken rule, because it was too much, because it felt too close. but then they did, and now jiaoqiu can't stop doing it whenever he can because it makes his heart kickstart so hard in his chest, and now is no different. therion puts his hands on either side of his face and kisses him with a sort of desperation that makes jiaoqiu's entire body light up.
there's an emotion there that he can't name, that he doesn't know how to name. and he's still - uncertain, because for a creature whose feelings are broken and barely pasted together, it's hard to not have words. but he'd be stupid if he didn't understand this at least a little. it's the same feeling that he got watching therion paint his nails, it's the same feeling as therion making snarky comments about the heroine in a horror movie, making fun of him for jumping at the music sting when the murderer shows up. it's the same feeling he gets when he woke up in the morning and it didn't matter what the fuck they were hiding from, the sun came through the curtains and shone over therion's hair, the slight wrinkle of his nose as he adjusted and hid his face in the pillow, not letting go of jiaoqiu and it's so dangerous, it's so terrifying to have something to love because it opens you up for so much hurt. noises are louder and colors are brighter, and sometimes he takes a bite out of an apple and he swears he can taste it, sweet and crunchy, it doesn't have to be slathered in spice - he doesn't have to hurt, to have something nice.
he doesn't have to hurt to have something nice. it doesn't have to hurt.
i thought you were dead.
it digs in and claws at him. he remembers therion angrily demanding he speak up, he remembers every movement that therion made to make sure that jiaoqiu didn't hit the wall or get injured further, he remembers therion running for a long, long time, taking claws and bites and danger to get to him. he didn't wait. he came for jiaoqiu immediately, it was barely hours before therion found him. it could've been so much worse if therion didn't trust that jiaoqiu was taken and didn't leave.
just as clumsily, he brings a hand up to rest on therion's and kisses him back, trying to meet him. he hears it. he's trying to hear it. he's trying to take that step forward instead of backing away, he is ripping his broken and falling-apart heart out of his chest and holding it out to therion, hoping that he understands, too. that i am awake is i let you into my safehouse is i trust you, i care, i want you and i'm trying. ]
[ this is so much easier than trying to say it out loud. whether he feels completely shaken apart or otherwise, this is something he can do. despite everything, his hands on his face are so gentle - avoiding the clawed mark on his cheek, his fingertips bare pressure, enough to hold jiaoqiu like he's fragile, with care. as always, therion's actions betray his true intentions, betray his soft, squishy core. there's no walls in the way that he kisses him, closed mouthed and lingering, trying to make him understand.
he's stolen this treasure. this nice thing, despite its unfinished edges and sharp pieces, despite how they're not always on the same page. and for the first time in his life, he's stolen something not just out of curiosity or necessity, or even to prove something to himself, or a pathological need to simply steal. he's stolen something to keep it. not to pawn it off. not to return it. he's stolen something to have for his own.
when he pulls back, it's not very far - an inch or two, breathing harder than he really should be from something so simple. exhausting, emotionally and physically, but nevertheless, and he feels his heart up in his throat and realizes he's not going to say anything useful here, either. so -
so, he just shifts a little, and bonks their foreheads together. it could probably stand to have been a little bit gentler than it was, but he's never had soft edges, and he closes his eyes, good and bad, and leaves his hands on jiaoqiu's face and just stays there. maybe if he takes jiaoqiu's hand, and moves it off of his face, and pulls it down, and sets it on his chest, not caring if he touches where he was hurt under his bandages, maybe he'll be able to understand how hard his heart's thundering. how scared he was. how scared he is of this. how the whole reason he was so afraid was because of that quickened heartbeat, because to have something good has only even been an impossibility, and now that he might have it, the thought of losing it is just as scary as having it, all the same.
and after a long moment of silence, therion says, his voice rough and so quiet between them, a soft rumble in his chest, with a hint of a little self-depreciating dryness: ] Not exactly good at easy.
[ admitting he's not good at something is also kind of a sign he's trying because sometimes you're really prideful, but it's true. he knows he's bad at it. but the admittance is just that - he's acquiescing. it could be easier, if you'd let me. okay. he can try. ]
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no subject
[ it comes out sharp, sharper than he means it to. angry, because that's all he ever knows how to show. it comes from a different place, though, this time. worry and frustration, something fierce, something angry. ]
Guy seemed thrilled to have you back in there. [ and whose fault was that? he thinks about he's an informant and how dissonant it felt with the condition jiaoqiu was in, and it snarls unhappily in his stomach. ] The only way you were getting out was in a body bag.
no subject
[ he says, finally, to the first part. because he doesn't really want to be dead. he doesn't always want to be alive, but that doesn't mean death is preferable. the anger gets him - he knows this is how therion shows concern, but there's a weird tinge to it that he can't quite figure out. his overheated brain works overtime as he tries to make sense of what this anger means. obviously, therion's frustrated, but he can't figure out if it's because he's angry at jiaoqiu for being cornered, or injured, or something else. it does not occur to him that therion might be angry at himself. ]
You came to get me. [ ... ] You... almost died, to get me.
no subject
you almost died, he says, and therion scoffs - it hurts his still recovering body, but he doesn't care. ]
Yeah, well - you wouldn't have even been in that situation if it wasn't for me.
[ it's out of his mouth before he has any time to really think about it. he thinks about darius' smug fucking face on the way out. how he's going to be seeing it in his nightmares all over again, fresh and infuriating.
another pause. and then, roughly - ] You almost died.
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silence, for a moment, and then he slowly shifts therion's fingers to his pulse. lets him feel it against his neck. it's a little slow, but it's there. he strokes therion's hand with his thumb. slowly, the shaking is easing up. ]
Is that what you think? That... it's your fault? [ he asks, soft. ] It wasn't. It was an inevitability for me, whether... I'd met you or not.
[ ... ]
I'm not dead. I'm here.
no subject
it's just. it's jiaoqiu, being jiaoqiu, as usual. ]
Stop - stop, stop trying to comfort me, you - [ god he could shake jiaoqiu. he won't, but oh, he could shake him. the problem is he doesn't even know what he wants to say - he feels like a livewire, about three seconds from jittering out of his skin. he shouldn't be here. he should be - he doesn't even know what, anymore, and he scrubs his hand over his face, harshly, over his bad eye. ] God.
no subject
jiaoqiu has shitty self worth, but he's not stupid. he can see this. he knows that he's a lost cause, because the first thing he thought about when he woke up was whether or not therion survived. ]
Therion.
[ he mumbles, watching him. ]
What do you think happened?
[ what did you hear? let him explain, let him help. let him connect, stop putting up that wall. he wants in, he needs in. ]
no subject
god. therion takes a breath from behind his other hand. inhale, exhale, drags his other hand down his face and drops it into his lap. ]
Information trade. [ a pause - his eyes flick back to jiaoqiu's face, again. ] Did you work for him?
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[ honestly, soft. ]
After the General and her retainer died, I tracked... him down. [ he has to take breaks, because even talking hurts, but he's going to explain or else. ] I convinced him that I was swayed... by the borisin creed. And I worked to bring him down. I wanted... to ruin his life.
[ a little smile. ]
Death was not enough for him. I wanted to... break him.
no subject
he regards him, regards that. frankly, he respects it - he knows jiaoqiu's kind of shady - but he can't say that now, not yet. therion has no shitty commentary for it, which is how you know he's a little distraught, or at least a lot focused. ]
Did you stop? [ working for him. his voice stays level. ]
no subject
[ he shifts, wincing just a little. ]
What I was doing... I couldn't keep doing. It was killing me. [ having to bring people in, having to gather information so that the people he wanted to save, wanted to treat - they got funneled in and torn apart, and nothing he could do would ruin hoolay. he had no morals. nothing to exploit.
he stood on a rooftop and he stared over the edge of it, and he was a step away from walking on air when feixiao's angry voice scolded him into moving back, and he realized - he couldn't keep on. he had to get away. ]
But he didn't want... to let me go. He wouldn't. I know... too much, and he'd grown fond of having a pet that... he could do whatever he wanted to.
[ he shifts again - like he wants to curl up. he can't, he's too broken for it, but maybe that explains why he flinched so badly, that one night. ]
So when he assigned me a mission to find new targets... I ran.
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that's therion's worst fucking nightmare. and he saw exactly what "whatever he wanted" looked like, when he came across jiaoqiu, tied to that chair. how much of that was punishment for running away, and how much of it was playing with his food? the idea rankles him, makes all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and for a moment his displeasure with the concept flickers across his eyes.
it explains a lot, subconsciously - when he shifts for the next time, therion says, quiet: ] Stop moving. [ but it's not mean, just an aside. a fussy phrase, mumbled almost automatically, while he thinks over everything he's been told. hoolay's reaction. the way he and his goons gave chase.
but therion's a good thief. and right now, he's finding this particular treasure he wants to keep, and that's just as scary, too. he doesn't relax, not yet, because he can't just believe it, even though he should, even though it's honest. he has to ask, tongue too big for his mouth, acid in his stomach, in his throat. ]
... How long ago?
[ you think that little rat thief was the target? ]
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[ he says, absently. he's fading, just a little, but. he stops moving, when therion tells him to. obediently. he glances up at therion, still holding his hand. ]
It really was only a matter of time until he caught up. [ he's so unaware - it doesn't even occur to him what hoolay might have said to his underlings, what lies he might have spread to save face. he doesn't know anything about darius passing on information, he doesn't even know that it wasn't common knowledge that he ran. ]
I'm... sorry, that you were in the... line of fire. You didn't... you didn't have to come for me. Thank you.
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he cuts himself off, mentally, verbally, cuts off jiaoqiu with: ]
Don't.
[ therion says, because he can't - he can't take his fucking gratitude, not right now, and he says, bluntly, ripped raw. ]
They found you because of me. [ because of darius, but he doesn't say that. ]
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What do you mean?
[ because he does not for a second think that therion sold him out. not after dragging him across town to try and hide him. ]
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he stares at the wall ahead, and not at jiaoqiu. no matter how much nonchalance he puts on his face, it's not enough. the grim, frustrated edge to his voice won't quite be sanded away. ]
- Darius is the one who told them about you. I pretended to be his underling to get into the bar. [ and he was let in with no trouble. spitefully, he thinks, well - he probably ruined that relationship. or at least he ruined darius' fucking day, which is what he deserves.
it makes him so angry, because it means he was careless. he doesn't know how they found them, not after he was so fucking careful. should've just stayed in the safehouse. should've just skipped town. should've, should've, should've. and that anger simmers and bubbles under the surface, and in this moment, it couldn't be more obvious that while he is angry at jiaoqiu for his flippant comment about his senses earlier, the most vicious of that anger's self-directed. ] So there you go.
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I fail to see how that's your fault. Darius is the one who did it.
[ like, he's not stupid, he knows - he knows. that it feels like your fault, when it was done to hurt you. that someone you care about got wrecked because villains always go for your loved ones first. it hurts so much more it isn't you. he understands, and he thinks he'd feel the same way, but. ]
... Therion. [ he says, firmly, a little sharp. shifts again, like he's going to sit up. ]
He would have had nobody to tell, if I hadn't had the karma coming for me. [ his breath is harsh, but he manages. ] It doesn't matter.
I don't blame you for this.
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no matter how shitty it already was, apparently. maybe that's why he kept coming back around. a couple of broken pieces where the edges don't just fit right might understand each other better than a nice one. ]
I knew he was going to do something. [ he says, more to himself than anything else. frustrated, irritated, annoyed at his carelessness, frustrated as a whole. all that, but when jiaoqiu starts to sit up, he makes a little noise, fussy, trying to make sure he doesn't hurt himself any further, giving him a look even in the midst of all of that that's distressed. despite all those sharp edges and all that ferocity, all that anger, all his bluster about selfishness and being a shitty little parasite, a waste, he spent his entire time yesterday protecting jiaoqiu with his life. ]
I don't - [ he starts again. stops. starts again, like a stuttering, beat up old car. it doesn't matter, that jiaoqiu doesn't blame him. he blames himself, for this, for all of it. he takes a sharp breath, and shakes his head, rubs his hand over his face again. all of his injuries hurt, but the old scar over his eye hurts the worst. ] -- it doesn't matter.
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carefully, he reaches for therion. he tugs at him - pulls his hand away from his face. stop scrubbing, stop hurting yourself. they're both bandaged and beat to fuck, and jiaoqiu has never been so glad to be alive, because they both are, and because therion has been trying to protect him and he has to start caring about his life a little more, because therion does. therion cares.
so come here. please. let him hug you, let him cling, skin to bandaged skin. ]
If Hoolay had taken you, would that be my fault? [ ... ] You hate it when I can't care about myself. I hate it when you blame yourself for everything that Darius did to you.
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[ this is not the point of what jiaoqiu is saying but he has to point it out anyway. therion's good at escaping. which - even the name is a reminder. he doubts that hulking wolf is going to be too pleased with therion's little theft, but that's a problem for when the insane woman with the killer rabbit isn't currently keeping them in relative safety.
(for now. for now. he's too paranoid, too untrusting, to think that will last.)
his hand stays there for a second, and there's a moment of resistance, but, it doesn't last. jiaoqiu pulling is a sign of life, and when he looks at him from under his fringe, really looks at him, he looks for the briefest second just vulnerable. afraid, but not of the gentle, pulling hand. or maybe that's the scariest thing at all.
it shutters away in a second - an eventually, he allows himself to be pulled over, easing slightly out of the chair to make it easier on him. he wasn't injured as badly, and he's got a high pain tolerance, and jiaoqiu is a weenie, and after a long, long moment, he allows himself to put his knee on the bed and ease a little closer, tentatively. it feels like he's stealing it.
he doesn't have any clever response to that, because he thinks it's different, so he just doesn't say anything, stormy and silent, but coming closer all the same. ]
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[ he scolds, because that isn't the point.
but he doesn't press, because he sees that vulnerable look, and it makes him ache. therion eases closer, and jiaoqiu tugs him further, tries to get him to lay down. he can't stay sitting up for too long, it makes him dizzy and all of his body scream with it - but he wants therion close, he wants to try and poorly keep him here. he's so frightened by the idea of therion leaving. this time, not because he can't bear to be attached, but because he thinks jiaoqiu would be safer.
he strokes his fingers up and down therion's back. tentative. ]
... When he took me, I decided I would do whatever I had to in order to stay alive. [ he says, finally, pressing his face against therion's hair. he swallows hard. ] Because of you. Because I wanted... because these days in that hotel, I have been... so awake. With you.
[ so. please don't bolt. ]
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the past twelve hours have been a long series of painful emotional punches. the first came when jiaoqiu was gone; the second, the chatter about the informant; the third, seeing jiaoqiu as injured as he was, dead in the eyes. it makes i have been so awake, with you stick even harder. he'd have to be stupid to not notice that, that he's not had to shake jiaoqiu out of his own memories. all of that could have just been destroyed, but he's more present than he would have ever expected if he ever woke up, and he is not only present, but he's present because of therion.
he lets himself be eased. he's tired, too. painkillers take the edge off, but he's used to a sort of constant pain most days anyway - the blood loss, however, is not easy to make up no matter what magic that doctor used. for once, he lets himself go, moving to lean on his arm, first, and then slowly, slowly lays down beside him. it feels so intimate. so close. something he's stolen away and something he doesn't want to let go.
he's so tense. even exhausted, he's so tense. he lets him press his nose in his hair, and for the second there, he lets himself hide and closes his eyes, and some feral creature goes still and quiet, the lightning-and-thunder in his chest settling down to low rain.
he swallows. hard. and says, voice rough: ] That wasn't normal. This is.
[ a repetition. this is my normal. this - the danger, the hurt, the constant running. this is normal to therion, and he doesn't want to throw more blood all over his life. it's almost like an admittance, the tentative step forward once more.
(but maybe... maybe it was already there, in the first place.) ]
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[ he has been through worse. he poisoned himself and woke up, in the dark, to hear that the people he loved most in the world had died. this time, he woke up, in the dark, and the person he loves most in this world was alive and there, reminding him he isn't blind.
there's something about the intimacy of letting someone this close when everything hurts. therion is so tense and jiaoqiu just wants him to relax. just a little. he wants to know that therion will be there when he wakes up. he wants to have some kind of certainty, he wants to be stolen. he wants. it makes his eyes burn. he hasn't cried in years, and he doesn't think he even can anymore.
so instead, he tangles himself up in therion, injuries be damned, and strokes at his uninjured skin, and tries not to let nihility tell him none of this matters, tries to push away the voice that says what is the use of trying to hold onto a kite that wants the gale more than you? ]
It could be a little easier, if you would let it. If you would let me. [ he says, exhausted, voice cracking slightly. ] I am running out of ways to tell you that I care about you.
[ and not a single thing is going to change it. nothing has. not even this. ]
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and slowly, slowly, his hand comes up, and curls tight in whatever clothes lingsha stuck jiaoqiu in, almost white knuckles, forehead pressed to an uninjured piece of him, and therion swallows, hard. his voice almost cracks, too, tiny, raw. ]
I know.
[ therion knows. he knows, of course he knows jiaoqiu cares. he'd nearly been spooked into thinking he betrayed him, too, only to find it was almost the opposite, that instead he stuck to life when he could have just given up, after therion told him to stop having a death wish, he stayed, and he survived, and now after all of that, he still wants to be here. jiaoqiu is still here.
caring about something is terrifying. he has nothing, as a thief. no place to lay his head, no precious gifts or items, nothing that he has to worry about being stolen away, until now, and it was nearly taken. and he'd risked his entire life to get him back, terrified, past the fear of the betrayal, trusted his stupid gut and trusted jiaoqiu, and this time, it was right. so he knows. he knows, he knows that he cares, and he knows...
he knows he does too. admitting to it feels so impossible, because it makes it real. and if it's real, it can be lost, broken, stolen, taken away. but what makes it more real than this? than jiaoqiu's blood all over his clothes? in order to begin to heal, someone said to him once upon a time, we have to learn how to trust again.
another long, silent moment, his eyes closed, fingers held tight, and he says, just loud enough to be heard: ]
I thought you were dead. [ the utter terror he'd felt when he saw him in that stupid chair, dead eyed and bloodied and not moving, gripped him to his core. i thought you were dead, because of me.
it's his way of saying it back, that he cares, too, that he cares ore than he knows how to put into words. i let you into my life. i let you into my safehouse. i risked my life for you and i'd do it a hundred times over if i had to to keep you alive. i trust you, i trust you, i trust you. he closes his eyes, and presses his forehead into him with a little more pressure, mouth drawn into a tight line.
maybe the answer lies there. maybe, in the sound of a fluttering heartbeat that’s so much steadier than it was when therion found him, that’s the idea. maybe he can’t say it. maybe he should remember that he’s a thief.
he pushes himself up, and reaches back- clever fingers, small hands- and finds his face, his jaw, and surges up to press a kiss to his mouth. its clumsier than usual, missing the mark at first, then readjusting. he’s exhausted, for one, but second, it’s just driven by pure, gut emotion. a barrier that was only broken fairly recently- and the kiss itself is closed mouthed and desperate all the same. understand. please understand. ]
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the little almost-crack in his voice makes his heart ache so badly. he'd do anything to ease it for a while.
and he's going to reply, but therion cuts him off. he kisses him, and jiaoqiu lets out a little sound, surprised, but - it's not unwelcome. the meaning isn't lost either. they hadn't kissed, an unspoken rule, because it was too much, because it felt too close. but then they did, and now jiaoqiu can't stop doing it whenever he can because it makes his heart kickstart so hard in his chest, and now is no different. therion puts his hands on either side of his face and kisses him with a sort of desperation that makes jiaoqiu's entire body light up.
there's an emotion there that he can't name, that he doesn't know how to name. and he's still - uncertain, because for a creature whose feelings are broken and barely pasted together, it's hard to not have words. but he'd be stupid if he didn't understand this at least a little. it's the same feeling that he got watching therion paint his nails, it's the same feeling as therion making snarky comments about the heroine in a horror movie, making fun of him for jumping at the music sting when the murderer shows up. it's the same feeling he gets when he woke up in the morning and it didn't matter what the fuck they were hiding from, the sun came through the curtains and shone over therion's hair, the slight wrinkle of his nose as he adjusted and hid his face in the pillow, not letting go of jiaoqiu and it's so dangerous, it's so terrifying to have something to love because it opens you up for so much hurt. noises are louder and colors are brighter, and sometimes he takes a bite out of an apple and he swears he can taste it, sweet and crunchy, it doesn't have to be slathered in spice - he doesn't have to hurt, to have something nice.
he doesn't have to hurt to have something nice. it doesn't have to hurt.
i thought you were dead.
it digs in and claws at him. he remembers therion angrily demanding he speak up, he remembers every movement that therion made to make sure that jiaoqiu didn't hit the wall or get injured further, he remembers therion running for a long, long time, taking claws and bites and danger to get to him. he didn't wait. he came for jiaoqiu immediately, it was barely hours before therion found him. it could've been so much worse if therion didn't trust that jiaoqiu was taken and didn't leave.
just as clumsily, he brings a hand up to rest on therion's and kisses him back, trying to meet him. he hears it. he's trying to hear it. he's trying to take that step forward instead of backing away, he is ripping his broken and falling-apart heart out of his chest and holding it out to therion, hoping that he understands, too. that i am awake is i let you into my safehouse is i trust you, i care, i want you and i'm trying. ]
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he's stolen this treasure. this nice thing, despite its unfinished edges and sharp pieces, despite how they're not always on the same page. and for the first time in his life, he's stolen something not just out of curiosity or necessity, or even to prove something to himself, or a pathological need to simply steal. he's stolen something to keep it. not to pawn it off. not to return it. he's stolen something to have for his own.
when he pulls back, it's not very far - an inch or two, breathing harder than he really should be from something so simple. exhausting, emotionally and physically, but nevertheless, and he feels his heart up in his throat and realizes he's not going to say anything useful here, either. so -
so, he just shifts a little, and bonks their foreheads together. it could probably stand to have been a little bit gentler than it was, but he's never had soft edges, and he closes his eyes, good and bad, and leaves his hands on jiaoqiu's face and just stays there. maybe if he takes jiaoqiu's hand, and moves it off of his face, and pulls it down, and sets it on his chest, not caring if he touches where he was hurt under his bandages, maybe he'll be able to understand how hard his heart's thundering. how scared he was. how scared he is of this. how the whole reason he was so afraid was because of that quickened heartbeat, because to have something good has only even been an impossibility, and now that he might have it, the thought of losing it is just as scary as having it, all the same.
and after a long moment of silence, therion says, his voice rough and so quiet between them, a soft rumble in his chest, with a hint of a little self-depreciating dryness: ] Not exactly good at easy.
[ admitting he's not good at something is also kind of a sign he's trying because sometimes you're really prideful, but it's true. he knows he's bad at it. but the admittance is just that - he's acquiescing. it could be easier, if you'd let me. okay. he can try. ]
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