[ therion goes as jiaoqiu moves him - pulled to lay back down with him, held very gently in place. very, very gently, but no less secure. he can feel every part of him winding around him, from his tail to his hands, can feel the way his tail trembles. it occurs to him very briefly that jiaoqiu might be scared, too.
not - not that he's scared. but nothing confirms that like the tiny, unsteady question buried in his shoulder. do you believe me?
and that's maybe the scariest thing of all.
therion's silent, for a long moment. what crosses his mind first is this - that he upended everything, without a second thought, to follow therion to this place, after he nearly died because someone in therion's life realized that jiaoqiu was something he cared about, and every wrong thing that could have happened, did. that instead of drunk and shoving his hands in therion's pants, snickering in an alleyway at his reactions, he's looking concerned that he might have done something to hurt him.
he thinks of how back in his safehouse, therion had warned him of what his life was like, about what it meant to know him, and jiaoqiu's answer had been, i don't want you to be alone.
he swallows, hard. and though therion doesn't say anything, he turns his head against the side of jiaoqiu's, pressed close to his stupid, twitchy ear, and holds there for a moment, frozen. and then, slowly - mechanically, at first - he nods. once. then twice. he nods again, and he's holding his breath as he does so, and it feels like his eyes are burning when he closes them, tight, and he nods against the tide of fright and anxiety and the ordeal of being known. yes. yes, he believes jiaoqiu. honestly, he's not sure if that's jiaoqiu's tail shaking, or if it's him.
if he's wrong about this, he's the biggest chump in the entire world, and darius was right. but the thing is, over the long year and change of their time together, he can at least start to believe that maybe he isn't. ]
[ there's relief, in the way jiaoqiu exhales. okay. okay.
he strokes his fingers along therion's spine, against the back of his neck. brings them further up to rest against the back of therion's head, keeping him close, cupping him safely. ]
Mm. Breathe.
[ he mumbles, because he knows it's scary. in the morning he's going to panic. in the morning he's going to go through the full spectrum of human emotion because he doesn't know what he's doing at all and if he fucks up this tenuous, tight-strung trust and therion leaves and he's left with another empty bed he'll just let the void take him entirely, he's not strong enough to withstand another loss. with this, he always feels like he's just about to drive off a cliff, like he has no idea where they're going but one wrong press will send them both to their deaths. he's a shell of something trying to grow back. a garden full of snarled weeds that have finally been cut back - with nothing left in it, having to start over, like a hot pot left to mold and burn, bleached and scrubbed. he's good at pretending like he knows what he's doing, but this is the scariest thing in the world, to take the lead when he barely knows who he is anymore. he's learning. he just has to hope it's fast enough. that handing therion his tether is the right thing to do.
right now, though, he's brave. right now the four glasses of malt liquor tells him that he should prove that he loves therion by taking care of him. that's the only thing that makes sense. so, clumsy as he is, he tries.
he kisses therion on the forehead, and eases back against the headboard, and coaxes therion to relax against his chest, his heartbeat. jiaoqiu is warmer, this way. he's enveloped in therion's weight and scent, familiar and safe, and he means to try to force his brain to say more, but.
unless therion says more, he's going to start to doze off, hugging therion to him like a teddy bear, absolutely comforted by him being here. ]
[ breathe, he says. it makes him scoff - half of a laugh, but it's mostly at himself, at this entire situation, because what the fuck. what the fuck! there's something about jiaoqiu telling him to relax and breathe that feels just as ridiculous, but he takes the advice anyway.
there's tension in the back of his neck where jiaoqiu's hand touches it, but that's probably not surprising. it's his turn for everything in this world to just feel too enormous, too big, his turn to just be held here, to be - to be welcomed home, is what it is. the four glasses of malt liquor don't often have the right idea, but maybe right now, they do.
yes, he believes it. he has to sit with the feeling for a while, has to white knuckle at jiaoqiu's shirt. has to berate himself, internally, for doing so, for looking so vulnerable, but the fact that jiaoqiu's not entirely in control of his faculties eases the way. tomorrow, if he forgets, he can pretend this never happened. tomorrow, if he remembers, he might pretend it never happened, anyway. he can hold this tiny, tremulous feeling to himself, that he does believe that jiaoqiu loves him. whether he's deserving of that or not is another thing entirely. whether it lasts, that's another thing entirely. but it is his.
slowly, he lets him coax him into moving. honestly, he's barely paying attention to it, somewhere between dazed and choking on metaphorical flower petals as a kiss is pressed to his forehead. his eyes close and stay closed, because if he opens them, he's not sure he'll be able to continue forward. and when he's finally about ready to make a comment, maybe something snarky, he realizes, belated, that jiaoqiu's breathing has even out.
...
slowly. slowly, carefully, he leans forward, and after a beat of hesitation, presses a kiss to his cheek. it lingers there, soft, a gesture sweet that he rarely ever makes for. just a soft, silent thank you, an unvoiced you too, because that's all he can really do, overwhelmed with the feeling of perhaps loving someone, and being loved in return.
as he slinks back down, he adjusts the pillows a little under jiaoqiu, so he's not sitting up entirely - so his stupid old bones don't ache in the morning - and slowly settles there. eyes wide open and lost in his own thoughts, he curls up there, being held like he's some kind of object of comfort (him? an object of comfort, to who?) and eventually, he curls his hand in the front of his clothes and leaves it there. like a lifeline, like a boat in the middle of a tumultuous sea. ]
[ in his sleep, when therion kisses him on the cheek, jiaoqiu's ears flick, and he lets out a little sigh. noses closer, murmurs therion's name, and sinks into a deeper sleep, unwilling to let therion go.
he can probably worm his way out of jiaoqiu's grip, if he wants. jiaoqiu sleeps like the dead when he's drunk, apparently. it's a deep sleep, but he's restless - it seems like he has nightmares, with the way he clings to either therion or the bed, if therion moved. that's probably not surprising, it's not unusual for him to have them. but he doesn't wake up from them, just makes soft, sad noises and curls up.
it's probably mid morning by the time he wakes up for real. somewhere around eleven. and unfortunately the first thing he does when he wakes up is roll out of bed and frantically run to the bathroom. he was a liar about not yartzing, unfortunately.
catch him dazedly leaning his face against the cool bathtub rim after violently expelling all the alcohol in his system. he looks and feels like garbage, and he hasn't even caught up mentally, yet. groans. ]
[ he doesn't worm out for a long, long time - in fact, though he's awake until the early morning light of dawn starts to poke through the small window, he does not move away from where he's being held. right now, it feels almost like he can indulge in it, like he can steal away the tenderness of jiaoqiu's hold because no one's really watching, because his pride is settled to the side in the moment of sudden vulnerability he allowed himself to have. he knows, logically, that if he gets up, he won't be able to get back down. so... he stays. he stays through those soft sad noises, awake enough to hear them but not knowing what to do, pressed close, feeling selfish and lost and found all at the same time.
he dozes off for a few hours like that - when therion wakes up again, he's still tired and also mortified, and he does in fact wiggle free of jiaoqiu's hold, sliding down and curling up in a ball beside him, back to him, as he is wont to do. on and off, half awake, he doesn't even really realize that he's fallen back asleep until he feels jiaoqiu move the bed.
and, while jiaoqiu is leaning against the tub, therion comes up, silently, and leans on the doorframe, his arms loosely folded over his bare chest. he doesn't say anything at first, just kind of regarding him, and then: ]
'No, Therion, I'm not going to vomit.' [ snarking him first thing after throwing up because that's what a nice person does (?) but hey! you didn't dream that he was here! ]
[ his ear flicks violently, and he just sloooowly turns his face against the tub, looking up at therion with an expression that could curdle milk. unfortunately for jiaoqiu he is completely incapacitated by his hangover, so he can't get up and shave therion bald for his transgressions.
no. he wouldn't, but he looks like a horribly grouchy, super pathetic wet rat from where he's sitting. ]
Very funny, I...
[ a beat. and then he blinks. slow, like he's realizing it: ]
[ HELP THIS LOOK therion is not even remotely afraid or scolded by it, because jiaoqiu is currently a heap on the floor. being a terrible person, he mostly just finds the glowering funny.
as jiaoqiu realizes, though, he lifts both of his hands in a muted “tada” gesture, expression completely deadpan and tone completely flat. ] Surprise.
and perhaps it is clear that his memories are slowly filtering in because he goes bright red. it's kind of impressive how red he gets, considering the struggle his body is having with the hangover. a beat.
he doesn't even know how to begin to approach this. opens his mouth. closes it. and then tries to pick himself up off the bathroom floor, because it's something to do and he doesn't know what else to do. he is struggling. ]
[ baby. therion watches this from his spot at the doorway- the conversation from yesterday flickers like a dying lightbulb somewhere in the back of his brain, but to be fair, there are a lot of things jiaoqiu could be embarrassed about, and maybe stubbornly he can believe that’s what it is and not the actual context.
he snorts and shakes his head, pushing off the doorframe. ]
Was on my way back. [ that’s a lie ] Unless you’re talking about the part where you were clinging to me half the night…?
[ but the way he says that is also so obviously just teasing: despite the deadpan, he does not seem bothered by that much, and he pads over absently when he starts trying to get up and offers a hand. ]
he... takes the hand. he's a little - not hesitant, but cautious. he can see the minefield and he's trying to not set it off. unsteadily, he lets therion help him up, and doesn't let go of his hand. he is a mess of a person at the moment, his hair tangled and his clothes ruffled. ]
You like when I cling. [ he grumbles, ears pinned back. he's sure of that much, at least. ] I... I'm - welcome h -- welcome back.
[ therion says, sarcastically, because he is the most helpful person on the entire planet. clearly he is not going to throw up again. (maybe.) but he does help jiaoqiu up, and then looks him over, from tip to tail. he's still holding his hand? embarrassing. it sends a flutter through him (even more embarrassing!!!) and therion lets go, though it's to fix his rumpled disaster of pajamas for him, straightening them out a little, looking for something else to do with his hands that doesn't remind him of yesterday.
this mostly fails but at least he can play it cool as he tugs on his clothes and tries to de-ruffle him a little ]
[ bold of you to think he got into pajamas before collapsing into bed, he's still wearing yesterday's clothes, so like. slacks and a cardigan.
he lets therion fix them though, even if he's feeling anxious about the hand hold, about yesterday, about - everything. he wants to go find his phone. he wants to make sure he actually said what he said. he's not going to throw up again, but he feels like... bad, absolutely disheveled in a way he isn't normally. his composure is absolutely shot. ]
... I should brush my teeth. [ he mumbles, ears pinned back. ]
[ unfortunately, as far as he can tell all of this is like general embarrassment and not specifically "i said the big l word" embarrassment. which is fine! that suits him great! if he can just focus on jiaoqiu embarrassing himself being a drunk mess and a hungover mess in the morning, then he can not think about the absolutely seismic shift his life has taken in the past twelve hours. he can pretend he didn't tell jiaoqiu he believed what he was saying. because he does. and that's so scary he doesn't want to confront it again, so, in typical therion fashion... he won't!
he picks at this cardigan for a second and then gives up, stepping back. maybe he should give him a minute. therion could also use a minute? he probably also needs one, or maybe he'll start thinking down that line of thinking again. god. there's a weird edge of something awkward here, unusually so, and he does the wise thing, shoving his hands in his pockets. ]
'm gonna go let Prim know you're dying.
[ and like, let her know that he's back, also. it gives him an excuse to skitter out, though he's as cool about it as ever, turning on his heel and giving a two fingered, lazy wave over his shoulder like things are normal. ]
[ he absolutely could use a minute, and he's not going to be in any shape to do work today, which - primrose probably knows, considering she watched boothill and jiaoqiu get wasted at two in the morning. still, it might be nice to just take a second to dunk his head and try to ease the hangover a bit on his own, so he lets therion go, watching him give that little lazy salute.
the second therion is out of the room, he just slumps back down to sit on the edge of the tub and puts his head in his hands. jesus christ. get yourself together. after a moment, he does manage to pull himself back up to go grab his phone.
... and when therion comes back, jiaoqiu isn't in the room! huh. the shower is freshly run and steamed up still, so he probably hasn't gone far. ]
therion's gone for a little while. ten minutes, fifteen. just long enough to swing downstairs and tell primrose, who looks at him a little curiously, and he knows, he knows that she can tell he came back early, but he cuts off any conversation about it before it can even start by being as gruff and brusque as possible. this doesn't stop her from giving him that knowing little smile as he's leaving, but, you know what. whatever.
he tarries a little longer than he needs to, downstairs, hemming and hawing a little before he finally makes his way back up the stairs. if he stops, long enough, he thinks about it. and he just cannot let himself do that? at all? or he will simply evaporate, so he doesn't! he shoves his face a little further into his scarf - the same one jiaoqiu bought him the day they first came to sunshade, that he wears pretty much always, nowadays, and returns to the room after giving himself a pep talk/scolding (mostly scolding) about this entire fucking thing and how absolutely awfully lame he is, and worse, how stupid this whole fucking thing is, and how stupid he probably is, but, whatever, by the time he gets in the room, he's cool as a cucumber. and...
... jiaoqiu's not here....
he frowns. he's not a tracker or anything like that, but he didn't pass jiaoqiu. he looks around the room. ]
...Doc? [ what the fuck
where did you go. is there any sign of anything... are his shoes still here... ]
no, his shoes are here! it doesn't look like anything has really moved much. and it's not going to be very difficult to find jiaoqiu because he is actually in the room, it's just hard to see him. there's a thud from the opposite side of the bed on the floor, and then quiet cursing. a beat. and jiaoqiu sits up, peering at therion from where he is on the floor. all that therion can see are his stupid pink ears and the upper half of his face. which is slightly red again.
he was just laying there, apparently. becoming one with the ground. sup. ]
[ he sat down and then he couldn't get back up because he's sick, and also because he read back his text messages and now he wants to die. is the window open. maybe he can throw himself out of it. ]
[ he is holding his phone very tightly in his hands. when therion comes over to him, he looks a bit apprehensive, but not in a way that he's like, scared of therion or anything, just.
he can't just let this go. he can't pretend like it didn't happen, because if therion is pretending like it didn't, maybe that means that he can't stand it, and it's freaking him out. there's always a part of him that whispers about how not worth it he is - he doesn't want that part to be proven correct. so. he just ignores the question, and asks his own. ]
... Did you read my messages that I sent you? [ he's piecing things together still, remembering bits and pieces of last night. ]
is so terrible, because he can't quite remember all of the conversation they had, so therion says yes, he read them, and nothing else, and jiaoqiu's ears pin down and back, his expression twitching like he's trying to hide some sort of hurt. like therion is letting him down easy, not trying to be cool about it.
he opens his mouth. and then closes it. and then: ]
[ we're right back at the miscommunication tango, though watching his ears pin back does help a little - he's too observant to miss the gesture even if he's not looking, and therion glances over, and then folds his arms across his chest, fingers curling in the sleeves of his hoodie at his biceps.
there's another pause. he shifts a little. this would be the chance to just - drop it, and the him of a year ago would have without a second thought, but, in a year's time, he's accidentally stepped on some land mines of his own, too. though, with jiaoqiu's, it's less like an explosion and more like quicksand. ]
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not - not that he's scared. but nothing confirms that like the tiny, unsteady question buried in his shoulder. do you believe me?
and that's maybe the scariest thing of all.
therion's silent, for a long moment. what crosses his mind first is this - that he upended everything, without a second thought, to follow therion to this place, after he nearly died because someone in therion's life realized that jiaoqiu was something he cared about, and every wrong thing that could have happened, did. that instead of drunk and shoving his hands in therion's pants, snickering in an alleyway at his reactions, he's looking concerned that he might have done something to hurt him.
he thinks of how back in his safehouse, therion had warned him of what his life was like, about what it meant to know him, and jiaoqiu's answer had been, i don't want you to be alone.
he swallows, hard. and though therion doesn't say anything, he turns his head against the side of jiaoqiu's, pressed close to his stupid, twitchy ear, and holds there for a moment, frozen. and then, slowly - mechanically, at first - he nods. once. then twice. he nods again, and he's holding his breath as he does so, and it feels like his eyes are burning when he closes them, tight, and he nods against the tide of fright and anxiety and the ordeal of being known. yes. yes, he believes jiaoqiu. honestly, he's not sure if that's jiaoqiu's tail shaking, or if it's him.
if he's wrong about this, he's the biggest chump in the entire world, and darius was right. but the thing is, over the long year and change of their time together, he can at least start to believe that maybe he isn't. ]
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he strokes his fingers along therion's spine, against the back of his neck. brings them further up to rest against the back of therion's head, keeping him close, cupping him safely. ]
Mm. Breathe.
[ he mumbles, because he knows it's scary. in the morning he's going to panic. in the morning he's going to go through the full spectrum of human emotion because he doesn't know what he's doing at all and if he fucks up this tenuous, tight-strung trust and therion leaves and he's left with another empty bed he'll just let the void take him entirely, he's not strong enough to withstand another loss. with this, he always feels like he's just about to drive off a cliff, like he has no idea where they're going but one wrong press will send them both to their deaths. he's a shell of something trying to grow back. a garden full of snarled weeds that have finally been cut back - with nothing left in it, having to start over, like a hot pot left to mold and burn, bleached and scrubbed. he's good at pretending like he knows what he's doing, but this is the scariest thing in the world, to take the lead when he barely knows who he is anymore. he's learning. he just has to hope it's fast enough. that handing therion his tether is the right thing to do.
right now, though, he's brave. right now the four glasses of malt liquor tells him that he should prove that he loves therion by taking care of him. that's the only thing that makes sense. so, clumsy as he is, he tries.
he kisses therion on the forehead, and eases back against the headboard, and coaxes therion to relax against his chest, his heartbeat. jiaoqiu is warmer, this way. he's enveloped in therion's weight and scent, familiar and safe, and he means to try to force his brain to say more, but.
unless therion says more, he's going to start to doze off, hugging therion to him like a teddy bear, absolutely comforted by him being here. ]
no subject
there's tension in the back of his neck where jiaoqiu's hand touches it, but that's probably not surprising. it's his turn for everything in this world to just feel too enormous, too big, his turn to just be held here, to be - to be welcomed home, is what it is. the four glasses of malt liquor don't often have the right idea, but maybe right now, they do.
yes, he believes it. he has to sit with the feeling for a while, has to white knuckle at jiaoqiu's shirt. has to berate himself, internally, for doing so, for looking so vulnerable, but the fact that jiaoqiu's not entirely in control of his faculties eases the way. tomorrow, if he forgets, he can pretend this never happened. tomorrow, if he remembers, he might pretend it never happened, anyway. he can hold this tiny, tremulous feeling to himself, that he does believe that jiaoqiu loves him. whether he's deserving of that or not is another thing entirely. whether it lasts, that's another thing entirely. but it is his.
slowly, he lets him coax him into moving. honestly, he's barely paying attention to it, somewhere between dazed and choking on metaphorical flower petals as a kiss is pressed to his forehead. his eyes close and stay closed, because if he opens them, he's not sure he'll be able to continue forward. and when he's finally about ready to make a comment, maybe something snarky, he realizes, belated, that jiaoqiu's breathing has even out.
...
slowly. slowly, carefully, he leans forward, and after a beat of hesitation, presses a kiss to his cheek. it lingers there, soft, a gesture sweet that he rarely ever makes for. just a soft, silent thank you, an unvoiced you too, because that's all he can really do, overwhelmed with the feeling of perhaps loving someone, and being loved in return.
as he slinks back down, he adjusts the pillows a little under jiaoqiu, so he's not sitting up entirely - so his stupid old bones don't ache in the morning - and slowly settles there. eyes wide open and lost in his own thoughts, he curls up there, being held like he's some kind of object of comfort (him? an object of comfort, to who?) and eventually, he curls his hand in the front of his clothes and leaves it there. like a lifeline, like a boat in the middle of a tumultuous sea. ]
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he can probably worm his way out of jiaoqiu's grip, if he wants. jiaoqiu sleeps like the dead when he's drunk, apparently. it's a deep sleep, but he's restless - it seems like he has nightmares, with the way he clings to either therion or the bed, if therion moved. that's probably not surprising, it's not unusual for him to have them. but he doesn't wake up from them, just makes soft, sad noises and curls up.
it's probably mid morning by the time he wakes up for real. somewhere around eleven. and unfortunately the first thing he does when he wakes up is roll out of bed and frantically run to the bathroom. he was a liar about not yartzing, unfortunately.
catch him dazedly leaning his face against the cool bathtub rim after violently expelling all the alcohol in his system. he looks and feels like garbage, and he hasn't even caught up mentally, yet. groans. ]
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he dozes off for a few hours like that - when therion wakes up again, he's still tired and also mortified, and he does in fact wiggle free of jiaoqiu's hold, sliding down and curling up in a ball beside him, back to him, as he is wont to do. on and off, half awake, he doesn't even really realize that he's fallen back asleep until he feels jiaoqiu move the bed.
and, while jiaoqiu is leaning against the tub, therion comes up, silently, and leans on the doorframe, his arms loosely folded over his bare chest. he doesn't say anything at first, just kind of regarding him, and then: ]
'No, Therion, I'm not going to vomit.' [ snarking him first thing after throwing up because that's what a nice person does (?) but hey! you didn't dream that he was here! ]
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no. he wouldn't, but he looks like a horribly grouchy, super pathetic wet rat from where he's sitting. ]
Very funny, I...
[ a beat. and then he blinks. slow, like he's realizing it: ]
Oh, you're... you're here.
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as jiaoqiu realizes, though, he lifts both of his hands in a muted “tada” gesture, expression completely deadpan and tone completely flat. ] Surprise.
[ you are not dreaming! ]
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and perhaps it is clear that his memories are slowly filtering in because he goes bright red. it's kind of impressive how red he gets, considering the struggle his body is having with the hangover. a beat.
he doesn't even know how to begin to approach this. opens his mouth. closes it. and then tries to pick himself up off the bathroom floor, because it's something to do and he doesn't know what else to do. he is struggling. ]
I... I hope that I didn't inconvenience you.
[ he manages, floundering. ]
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he snorts and shakes his head, pushing off the doorframe. ]
Was on my way back. [ that’s a lie ] Unless you’re talking about the part where you were clinging to me half the night…?
[ but the way he says that is also so obviously just teasing: despite the deadpan, he does not seem bothered by that much, and he pads over absently when he starts trying to get up and offers a hand. ]
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he... takes the hand. he's a little - not hesitant, but cautious. he can see the minefield and he's trying to not set it off. unsteadily, he lets therion help him up, and doesn't let go of his hand. he is a mess of a person at the moment, his hair tangled and his clothes ruffled. ]
You like when I cling. [ he grumbles, ears pinned back. he's sure of that much, at least. ] I... I'm - welcome h -- welcome back.
[ good job great you're doing SO good at this ]
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[ therion says, sarcastically, because he is the most helpful person on the entire planet. clearly he is not going to throw up again. (maybe.) but he does help jiaoqiu up, and then looks him over, from tip to tail. he's still holding his hand? embarrassing. it sends a flutter through him (even more embarrassing!!!) and therion lets go, though it's to fix his rumpled disaster of pajamas for him, straightening them out a little, looking for something else to do with his hands that doesn't remind him of yesterday.
this mostly fails but at least he can play it cool as he tugs on his clothes and tries to de-ruffle him a little ]
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he lets therion fix them though, even if he's feeling anxious about the hand hold, about yesterday, about - everything. he wants to go find his phone. he wants to make sure he actually said what he said. he's not going to throw up again, but he feels like... bad, absolutely disheveled in a way he isn't normally. his composure is absolutely shot. ]
... I should brush my teeth. [ he mumbles, ears pinned back. ]
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[ unfortunately, as far as he can tell all of this is like general embarrassment and not specifically "i said the big l word" embarrassment. which is fine! that suits him great! if he can just focus on jiaoqiu embarrassing himself being a drunk mess and a hungover mess in the morning, then he can not think about the absolutely seismic shift his life has taken in the past twelve hours. he can pretend he didn't tell jiaoqiu he believed what he was saying. because he does. and that's so scary he doesn't want to confront it again, so, in typical therion fashion... he won't!
he picks at this cardigan for a second and then gives up, stepping back. maybe he should give him a minute. therion could also use a minute? he probably also needs one, or maybe he'll start thinking down that line of thinking again. god. there's a weird edge of something awkward here, unusually so, and he does the wise thing, shoving his hands in his pockets. ]
'm gonna go let Prim know you're dying.
[ and like, let her know that he's back, also. it gives him an excuse to skitter out, though he's as cool about it as ever, turning on his heel and giving a two fingered, lazy wave over his shoulder like things are normal. ]
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[ he absolutely could use a minute, and he's not going to be in any shape to do work today, which - primrose probably knows, considering she watched boothill and jiaoqiu get wasted at two in the morning. still, it might be nice to just take a second to dunk his head and try to ease the hangover a bit on his own, so he lets therion go, watching him give that little lazy salute.
the second therion is out of the room, he just slumps back down to sit on the edge of the tub and puts his head in his hands. jesus christ. get yourself together. after a moment, he does manage to pull himself back up to go grab his phone.
... and when therion comes back, jiaoqiu isn't in the room! huh. the shower is freshly run and steamed up still, so he probably hasn't gone far. ]
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therion's gone for a little while. ten minutes, fifteen. just long enough to swing downstairs and tell primrose, who looks at him a little curiously, and he knows, he knows that she can tell he came back early, but he cuts off any conversation about it before it can even start by being as gruff and brusque as possible. this doesn't stop her from giving him that knowing little smile as he's leaving, but, you know what. whatever.
he tarries a little longer than he needs to, downstairs, hemming and hawing a little before he finally makes his way back up the stairs. if he stops, long enough, he thinks about it. and he just cannot let himself do that? at all? or he will simply evaporate, so he doesn't! he shoves his face a little further into his scarf - the same one jiaoqiu bought him the day they first came to sunshade, that he wears pretty much always, nowadays, and returns to the room after giving himself a pep talk/scolding (mostly scolding) about this entire fucking thing and how absolutely awfully lame he is, and worse, how stupid this whole fucking thing is, and how stupid he probably is, but, whatever, by the time he gets in the room, he's cool as a cucumber. and...
... jiaoqiu's not here....
he frowns. he's not a tracker or anything like that, but he didn't pass jiaoqiu. he looks around the room. ]
...Doc? [ what the fuck
where did you go. is there any sign of anything... are his shoes still here... ]
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no, his shoes are here! it doesn't look like anything has really moved much. and it's not going to be very difficult to find jiaoqiu because he is actually in the room, it's just hard to see him. there's a thud from the opposite side of the bed on the floor, and then quiet cursing. a beat. and jiaoqiu sits up, peering at therion from where he is on the floor. all that therion can see are his stupid pink ears and the upper half of his face. which is slightly red again.
he was just laying there, apparently. becoming one with the ground. sup. ]
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god. help. he looks at him with the most unimpressed face you could possibly imagine. hello. ]
What the hell are you doing.
[ why are you becoming one with the floor ]
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a pause. ]
... My phone was down here.
[ he sat down and then he couldn't get back up because he's sick, and also because he read back his text messages and now he wants to die. is the window open. maybe he can throw himself out of it. ]
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[ jiaoqiu................alas the window is not open because therion is a paranoid freak ]
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I took a shower. [ he protests!! ]
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[ could two syllables sound any more judgy.... probably not....
he comes over to look at him though, hands on his hips. ] Regretting those... what, four glasses of Asdana Oak, yet?
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he can't just let this go. he can't pretend like it didn't happen, because if therion is pretending like it didn't, maybe that means that he can't stand it, and it's freaking him out. there's always a part of him that whispers about how not worth it he is - he doesn't want that part to be proven correct. so. he just ignores the question, and asks his own. ]
... Did you read my messages that I sent you? [ he's piecing things together still, remembering bits and pieces of last night. ]
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a pause. he looks at him for a second, and then looks away with a huff, feeling a flush start to crawl up the back of his neck. ]
Yeah.
[ yeah. so casual. so cool. is that all you're gonna say therion?? helpful ]
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is so terrible, because he can't quite remember all of the conversation they had, so therion says yes, he read them, and nothing else, and jiaoqiu's ears pin down and back, his expression twitching like he's trying to hide some sort of hurt. like therion is letting him down easy, not trying to be cool about it.
he opens his mouth. and then closes it. and then: ]
... Ah. Then, I... [ he starts. pauses. ] Yes, alright.
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there's another pause. he shifts a little. this would be the chance to just - drop it, and the him of a year ago would have without a second thought, but, in a year's time, he's accidentally stepped on some land mines of his own, too. though, with jiaoqiu's, it's less like an explosion and more like quicksand. ]
... what?
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