[ 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. ]
[ despite everything, despite how tired he is and how injured they both are, he thinks this is necessary. medicine doesn't always come in the form of pills or bandages, and he's always maintained that. sometimes, it's food. sometimes, it's contact, sometimes it's another person, sometimes it's this. curled up together, safe for the moment, gentle and just a little ragged at the edges.
he's so gentle, and jiaoqiu hums with it, petting his hair. it's a sort of delicate that he isn't used to, but he absolutely does not hate it. and when therion pulls back just enough to bonk their foreheads together, hands on his face like he's something breakable, he feels a little dizzy. this amount of affection, freely given, initiated, is new, and it's something that he's getting addicted to. jiaoqiu drags his fingers down therion's arm, touching just to touch, to be connected. rests that hand on therion's chest, careful, and soaks in being close like this. ]
I know. [ he says, a little wryly. a beat. ] It's alright. I'm not going anywhere. You'll have plenty of time to practice.
[ therion has stolen something for his own, and jiaoqiu thinks that's silly because he didn't ever have to steal it in the first place, it was already his - but he'll let him think he's getting away with something. it's okay, because jiaoqiu is being selfish and letting himself want something, too. ]
It isn't as if... I'm good at it either, I suppose.
[ ugh, don't phrase it like he has to practice. therion pulls a face. he learns by experience, thank you very much, which is exactly what jiaoqiu is saying, but despite forgiving claims a few nights ago he does have an ego.
thankfully, it doesn't really mean anything beyond his usual grumbling. he tries not to react to the fingertips on his arm, over bandages, trusting and allowing him in his space, tries to pretend it doesn't send goosebumps up his forearms. i'm not going anywhere. he has to do something to keep from jittering away or at least to save face, so after a second, therion frees his hands and reaches for the blankets, and pulls them up over them both up to the chin. he's small enough that he could disappear if he moved, and that suits him just fine.
with that, he huffs. now that the emotional high of the moment is out of the way and there's a little extra armor, therion's a little less unmarred, a little more comfortable, and a bit of grumbling helped to ease the way of that, too. jiaoqiu says he's not good at it, and that actually does get a snort. it hurts his chest a little, but it's not in a bad way. ]
Yeah. I could've told you that months ago. [ rude. lacking heat. ] Fucking psychopath inviting a thief into your house.
[ in the blankets, jiaoqiu's tail twitches, and then flops over to settle over therion's legs. his face free, jiaoqiu tugs therion closer and tucks him against his chest. it kind of hurts to do, but whatever. he doesn't care, the closeness is more important to him. ]
I had nothing to lose. [ he hums, adjusting so he can run his fingers through therion's hair. ] Things change.
[ he knows therion is grumbling to save face, and he ignores it. ]
Will you let me say thank you? Really hear it, now.
[ unless lingsha cleaned him up his hair is so gross because someone bled in it a lot. also he smells like fire and smoke and. incense, which is like nice smoke so that's an improvement. it's all just bad.
the warmth over his leg is becoming increasingly familiar. is he going to let himself have this, from now on? despite everything? his eyes close, head spinning, heart heavy and light all at once. therion listens to jiaoqiu, the rumble of his voice where he's settled, nearly hidden under the blankets, and then huffs again, muttering under his breath. ]
Can't exactly stop you. [ he has tried many creative efforts to get jiaoqiu to stop talking with mixed success. but, after a moment, he lifts his head from where he's been tucked just enough to peer at him from behind his bangs, expression pulled into a small frown, but - a sign that he's listening. alright, fine. ]
[ he does in fact wrinkle his nose a little at the smell, but it's fine.
and when therion peeks up at him like that, from under his bangs, jiaoqiu's heart squeezes so tight in his chest that it nearly takes the wind out of him. how many people have ever seen him like this? he can't imagine it's been many, with how closely guarded therion is. that thought from before, that he can't lie to himself about how he feels, comes back even stronger, and he has to bite his lip for a second to stop himself. don't be silly. just take this, don't ruin it.
jiaoqiu takes a deep breath. and then he brings his hand down to gently brush therion's hair out of his face. just enough, just so he can see both of therion's eyes, no armor. ]
Thank you. For saving me.
[ from hoolay, but. for saving him from a life where the only thing he had to look forward to was sitting in front of two graves for eight solid hours once a year. it's clear he means more than just today. ]
[ just like that, he's laid totally bare. there's a tiny second where he almost flinches away out of sheer instinct, but he stops himself - the hand curled in his clothes tightens, hard, but he keeps his face steady for at least a second. both of his eyes, bright and murky green, focus up on jiaoqiu's face and he takes in a small, shallow breath.
no armor. and then jiaoqiu says that, and of course he'd have to be an idiot not to understand what he means. it feels overwhelming - there's a rush of warmth in his chest that aches something fierce, the formation of glass from sandy ground, heat and healing and reforming all at once. some part of him wants to protest, that defensive. does he look like a hero? it was his fault that he ended up there. normally, he'd play it off as nothing, shake his head and scoff, let him know it was just out of convenience's sake, for payback, but there's no convenience or payback or tradeoff here, and there hasn't been for a long, long time. he could tell himself that he's using jiaoqiu, because he's a bad person, and used to tell himself so often - it was just for sex, just for knowing you have a healer in your pocket, just for a free meal - but it's a lie. it's a poorly constructed lie. no thief worth their own skin would have run into that wolf's den, piss off a powerfully connected crime lord, to save someone else. he didn't even hesitate, not for a fucking second.
he searches jiaoqiu's face - for a lie, maybe, for anything that could tell him that this wasn't real, and for once, he lets himself believe that this might be something he can trust. that it's somewhere he can rest his head.
therion swallows. hard. ]
Yeah. [ the awkward, husky-voiced, raw one word response more or less says everything. that he's accepting to thanks. that he understands what he's trying to say. his chest, his throat - they feel tight, burning like he might cry, which is insane, because he hasn't done that since he was a literal baby and he has no plans of doing it now, but he doesn't look away. yeah. you're welcome. he's not sure if he can say that, but the emotion's there as he stares up at him, for just a second like a lost shelter cat who finally found a home. ]
[ the thing that moves him the most is that therion doesn't look away.
that's the biggest thing that tells him therion is trying. he knows that the meaning behind his words hit, and he can see that he's fighting it, and fighting that. it's the same thing jiaoqiu does. sometimes you have to wrestle like eight layers of self loathing and trauma to get to a point where you can just hear something, and accept it. therion looks at him, and jiaoqiu doesn't break his gaze, just waits patiently, lets him sort through it. watches the expression on his face turn from something like crunched, shattered glass to a window. there's still cracks. it's still being repaired, but the damage isn't so devastating.
therion put himself so solidly into danger for him, and he takes the thank you, and jiaoqiu, stupidly, is so very proud of him. the look that he gives him makes all of this worth it. a realization that he can rely on someone, that he has a home. it's this that makes jiaoqiu believe that therion is going to try, and it settles the uncertainty in him. no matter what comes next, it'll be okay.
there's no lie in his own expression, it's - probably the most honest he's ever been. and jiaoqiu leans a little. presses a kiss to therion's forehead, and then lifts his chin a bit to kiss him on the mouth, in that same sort of way - understanding. hearing it. keeping it close. a tacit response. he heard what therion was trying to tell him, and he believes it, he's not backing away this time.
and when he pulls away, he doesn't go far. he strokes therion's back, fingers up and down his spine. he doesn't say anything, he just lets therion sit with it for a bit.
lets himself sit with it a bit, too. his chest hurts, and his eyes are burning. ]
[ thank god he lets him sit with it because he's going to need a xanax and about ten years to fully process the span of emotions he's had in the past twenty four hours. the kiss to the forehead is such a sweet, tender gesture that for a second it feels like he can't breathe. it's so unfamiliar, so unknown - he might need ten years to get anywhere even remotely used to that, too.
he takes a breath, a little shakier than he'd like for it to be, and his eyes flutter shut at the gesture. by the time it comes to his mouth in a kiss, he's somewhere between exhausted and wide awake, firefly sparks flickering through his synapses, moving so slowly and too fast all at once. it's such a strange, unmooring feeling, adrift at sea with someone's hands on your waist, but it's not bad. for once, he's trying to let himself have something. for once, something good shines in.
i had nothing to lose. things change. yeah. yeah, he gets that, now, doesn't he?
that's about it for therion, who cannot stand to stay face to face, open to open any longer than that or he might actually implode on the spot. he's learning how to display a tiny bit of emotional intimacy. he is not anywhere near the stage of looking lovingly into someone's eyes. red cheeked, he huffs again, dropping his head down and burrowing a little further into the blankets, nearly disappearing underneath them so there's just a tuft of his white hair sticking out. ]
Happy fucking vacation. [ he mutters, eventually - grousing, grumbling, sarcastic, but it's at least at both of their expense. yay. what an ending. ]
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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. ]
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[ 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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he's so gentle, and jiaoqiu hums with it, petting his hair. it's a sort of delicate that he isn't used to, but he absolutely does not hate it. and when therion pulls back just enough to bonk their foreheads together, hands on his face like he's something breakable, he feels a little dizzy. this amount of affection, freely given, initiated, is new, and it's something that he's getting addicted to. jiaoqiu drags his fingers down therion's arm, touching just to touch, to be connected. rests that hand on therion's chest, careful, and soaks in being close like this. ]
I know. [ he says, a little wryly. a beat. ] It's alright. I'm not going anywhere. You'll have plenty of time to practice.
[ therion has stolen something for his own, and jiaoqiu thinks that's silly because he didn't ever have to steal it in the first place, it was already his - but he'll let him think he's getting away with something. it's okay, because jiaoqiu is being selfish and letting himself want something, too. ]
It isn't as if... I'm good at it either, I suppose.
[ he'll admit that. ]
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thankfully, it doesn't really mean anything beyond his usual grumbling. he tries not to react to the fingertips on his arm, over bandages, trusting and allowing him in his space, tries to pretend it doesn't send goosebumps up his forearms. i'm not going anywhere. he has to do something to keep from jittering away or at least to save face, so after a second, therion frees his hands and reaches for the blankets, and pulls them up over them both up to the chin. he's small enough that he could disappear if he moved, and that suits him just fine.
with that, he huffs. now that the emotional high of the moment is out of the way and there's a little extra armor, therion's a little less unmarred, a little more comfortable, and a bit of grumbling helped to ease the way of that, too. jiaoqiu says he's not good at it, and that actually does get a snort. it hurts his chest a little, but it's not in a bad way. ]
Yeah. I could've told you that months ago. [ rude. lacking heat. ] Fucking psychopath inviting a thief into your house.
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I had nothing to lose. [ he hums, adjusting so he can run his fingers through therion's hair. ] Things change.
[ he knows therion is grumbling to save face, and he ignores it. ]
Will you let me say thank you? Really hear it, now.
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the warmth over his leg is becoming increasingly familiar. is he going to let himself have this, from now on? despite everything? his eyes close, head spinning, heart heavy and light all at once. therion listens to jiaoqiu, the rumble of his voice where he's settled, nearly hidden under the blankets, and then huffs again, muttering under his breath. ]
Can't exactly stop you. [ he has tried many creative efforts to get jiaoqiu to stop talking with mixed success. but, after a moment, he lifts his head from where he's been tucked just enough to peer at him from behind his bangs, expression pulled into a small frown, but - a sign that he's listening. alright, fine. ]
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and when therion peeks up at him like that, from under his bangs, jiaoqiu's heart squeezes so tight in his chest that it nearly takes the wind out of him. how many people have ever seen him like this? he can't imagine it's been many, with how closely guarded therion is. that thought from before, that he can't lie to himself about how he feels, comes back even stronger, and he has to bite his lip for a second to stop himself. don't be silly. just take this, don't ruin it.
jiaoqiu takes a deep breath. and then he brings his hand down to gently brush therion's hair out of his face. just enough, just so he can see both of therion's eyes, no armor. ]
Thank you. For saving me.
[ from hoolay, but. for saving him from a life where the only thing he had to look forward to was sitting in front of two graves for eight solid hours once a year. it's clear he means more than just today. ]
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no armor. and then jiaoqiu says that, and of course he'd have to be an idiot not to understand what he means. it feels overwhelming - there's a rush of warmth in his chest that aches something fierce, the formation of glass from sandy ground, heat and healing and reforming all at once. some part of him wants to protest, that defensive. does he look like a hero? it was his fault that he ended up there. normally, he'd play it off as nothing, shake his head and scoff, let him know it was just out of convenience's sake, for payback, but there's no convenience or payback or tradeoff here, and there hasn't been for a long, long time. he could tell himself that he's using jiaoqiu, because he's a bad person, and used to tell himself so often - it was just for sex, just for knowing you have a healer in your pocket, just for a free meal - but it's a lie. it's a poorly constructed lie. no thief worth their own skin would have run into that wolf's den, piss off a powerfully connected crime lord, to save someone else. he didn't even hesitate, not for a fucking second.
he searches jiaoqiu's face - for a lie, maybe, for anything that could tell him that this wasn't real, and for once, he lets himself believe that this might be something he can trust. that it's somewhere he can rest his head.
therion swallows. hard. ]
Yeah. [ the awkward, husky-voiced, raw one word response more or less says everything. that he's accepting to thanks. that he understands what he's trying to say. his chest, his throat - they feel tight, burning like he might cry, which is insane, because he hasn't done that since he was a literal baby and he has no plans of doing it now, but he doesn't look away. yeah. you're welcome. he's not sure if he can say that, but the emotion's there as he stares up at him, for just a second like a lost shelter cat who finally found a home. ]
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that's the biggest thing that tells him therion is trying. he knows that the meaning behind his words hit, and he can see that he's fighting it, and fighting that. it's the same thing jiaoqiu does. sometimes you have to wrestle like eight layers of self loathing and trauma to get to a point where you can just hear something, and accept it. therion looks at him, and jiaoqiu doesn't break his gaze, just waits patiently, lets him sort through it. watches the expression on his face turn from something like crunched, shattered glass to a window. there's still cracks. it's still being repaired, but the damage isn't so devastating.
therion put himself so solidly into danger for him, and he takes the thank you, and jiaoqiu, stupidly, is so very proud of him. the look that he gives him makes all of this worth it. a realization that he can rely on someone, that he has a home. it's this that makes jiaoqiu believe that therion is going to try, and it settles the uncertainty in him. no matter what comes next, it'll be okay.
there's no lie in his own expression, it's - probably the most honest he's ever been. and jiaoqiu leans a little. presses a kiss to therion's forehead, and then lifts his chin a bit to kiss him on the mouth, in that same sort of way - understanding. hearing it. keeping it close. a tacit response. he heard what therion was trying to tell him, and he believes it, he's not backing away this time.
and when he pulls away, he doesn't go far. he strokes therion's back, fingers up and down his spine. he doesn't say anything, he just lets therion sit with it for a bit.
lets himself sit with it a bit, too. his chest hurts, and his eyes are burning. ]
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he takes a breath, a little shakier than he'd like for it to be, and his eyes flutter shut at the gesture. by the time it comes to his mouth in a kiss, he's somewhere between exhausted and wide awake, firefly sparks flickering through his synapses, moving so slowly and too fast all at once. it's such a strange, unmooring feeling, adrift at sea with someone's hands on your waist, but it's not bad. for once, he's trying to let himself have something. for once, something good shines in.
i had nothing to lose. things change. yeah. yeah, he gets that, now, doesn't he?
that's about it for therion, who cannot stand to stay face to face, open to open any longer than that or he might actually implode on the spot. he's learning how to display a tiny bit of emotional intimacy. he is not anywhere near the stage of looking lovingly into someone's eyes. red cheeked, he huffs again, dropping his head down and burrowing a little further into the blankets, nearly disappearing underneath them so there's just a tuft of his white hair sticking out. ]
Happy fucking vacation. [ he mutters, eventually - grousing, grumbling, sarcastic, but it's at least at both of their expense. yay. what an ending. ]
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