[ silence, for a long moment, as he drifts, and then - he registers the hand on his sleeve. for a second, he can hear the wind outside. a window rattling on the outside of the building. the shift of the blanket, fabric against skin. exhaustion hits him hard, makes him blink slowly, waver. he has to focus. the void is at his feet and he so desperately wants to crawl right into it, because feeling is awful and he wants it to stop.
but he doesn't. he glances at therion, and doesn't say anything. he feels like a mirage. like if therion pushed a little further he'd go right through him. therion is alive. he's going to be fine, he made sure of it, he stitched him up and he's talking, he's saying his name. jiaoqiu saved him. but - if he didn't. if this isn't real, if he's tending a body and his mind won't let him realize it, that - that could happen. it could be happening right now.
he wishes it didn't get like this, sometimes. he wishes he could be certain what is and isn't real. therion's hand has to be real. he stares down at it. ]
[ well. he's exhausted, and beat to hell, and missing a lot of blood but he's not stupid. he can tell jiaoqiu's going off into the void, because - well, he knows him, by now. he knows what that vacant look is, even through the haze of a concussion, where it hurts to think.
in reality, this is his fault. all of it - the living, breathing consequences of his decisions that hurt not just himself, but others, too. but there's no room in his injured head for self frustration, for blame, for anything. what there is is jiaoqiu, who saved his life, who came all the way here, who needs an anchor.
so. he lets go of his sleeve, but he reaches up farther. it's a little slow - up, up, until he can find the back of jiaoqiu's neck, fingers curling, as he gives an insistent tug. it's lacking strength, but he pulls, anyway, tries to pull him down. come here. come down here. ]
he doesn't resist. therion slowly curls his fingers around his neck, and there's no strength to the tugging but it doesn't matter. he goes, because he needs it, because he needs the physical reminder that he didn't lose this, too. carefully, not aggravating any of therion's wounds, he sinks down and curls around therion, resting his hand on the side of his face again, forehead to forehead.
and maybe, in the middle of it, he can accept that therion wants him to be present. that he's trying even when he's concussed to hell and back, when he's missing all his blood. he breathes in sharp, like a knife. exhales slow. tries to wake up. ]
in a sense, it's less clumsy than usual. there's no need to bluster, to be embarrassed about it, simply because he doesn't have the energy to do it. in his basal instinct, he can tell that jiaoqiu is drifting, and in his basal instinct, he can tell that this is how to help, and in his basal instinct, he wants to help jiaoqiu. because he cares about him, because he loves him, and the entire reason he left was because that idea terrified him.
forehead to forehead, it's gentle, barely a touch, so much softer than he'd ever reach for, but this is a safe harbor. jiaoqiu is a safe harbor. even if they're still in this terrible place, no one will find them here, and he doesn't have enough energy to be paranoid about it, either. ]
Talk. [ tiredly. ] Normally can't... get you to shut up.
[ there's a little of therion's normal therion - it's kind of a joke. but jiaoqiu said if he needed him to talk, he would, and jiaoqiu needs to talk for them both. ]
[ a beat, and then there's a huff. a little huff of laughter, something tired and wrung out. the anger is gone now, for the most part, and all that's left is his worry, which is slowly crawling up out of the void to settle heavy on his chest. therion talks to him. asks him to say something, and that helps. it's centering.
he pets therion absently. ]
... Are you sure you want me to? I'm not sure if it'll be screaming or scolding. [ he jokes, feebly. one step forward. one step up out of the muck. ]
that - okay, well, that makes him actually laugh, and this time it's a little hiccuppy, because the emotion it pulls out of him feels like a wave. he chokes just a little on it, but. recovers pretty fast, at least.
a bit of the tension in the way he holds himself evaporates from his shoulders. ]
Luckily for you, I don't have the energy. [ there's more life, in that. ] Nor do I have the strength to scold you, either.
[ despite everything, this feels - normal. and maybe that's what will ease the way later, too, when they get to the emotional issues beyond all of this, the fight, the distance, everything. like jiaoqiu's medical treatment, this right here is triage. you deal with the emergency before you deal with the rest.
therion doesn't laugh, but there's a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth, and that will have to be enough.
as for painkillers, though, he starts to shake his head - then thinks better of it, because fucking ow, and then just grunts. ] 's fine. [ he doesn't need them. ] Don't... want to be out of it.
[ a pause, and then he shifts so that he can pull the blankets up around both of them. warm them both up. he cuddles up against therion's side, resting his hand on therion's chest, over where his hand is set. there's relief in the movement, in everything he does, because it really hits him now that the last thing they really said to each other was that fight. he was so close to it happening again.
maybe he will hold therion's hand. sorry about it. ]
You should rest, out of it or no. [ he says, softer. ] You can sleep. I'll make sure nothing happens.
[ therion's dizzy and concussed, but he's capable of a conversation, and his breathing is okay, so jiaoqiu doesn't see any reason why he can't drift if he needs to. ]
[ "i'm here", jiaoqiu says. such a simple affirmation - and likely one referring to his current state of self. after all, he'd been fading before. some part of him wonders, distantly, how bad it must have been before. was he doing this back in sunshade? of course he was. he - of course he was.
but he considers "i'm here", too tired to do much self-loathing. he's here, mentally, but... physically, too. physically, he's caught therion more than once. here, therion would be dead without him. and it wasn't just trust that brought him up here to see him, after therion was the one who pushed him away. he's here, despite everything, he's here.
jiaoqiu can hold his hand. if it's his broken arm, he can't move it much, but he doesn't move it away - in fact, he spreads his fingertips just the tiniest bit. lets him in. heart heavy, voice a bare wisp as sleep calls to him, therion closes his eyes and says, rough and quiet. ] ...Me too.
[ i'm here. here, alive. here, together. whatever meaning of the word, he's here.
he takes a deeper breath. in, out. and for the first time, with jiaoqiu in this little safehouse, he closes his eyes and allows the unconsciousness that's been tugging at his eyelids to finally take him, letting out a slow, quiet sigh. he's not going to let him fall. despite everything - despite that he should, really - jiaoqiu won't let him die, and therion's too stubborn to do anything but live.
he won't want to sleep too long, but his body likely won't let him do otherwise, exhausted and desperately in need of time to heal. ]
[ jiaoqiu won't tell him how bad he was doing before, but primrose likely will, at least.
but that's for later. jiaoqiu holds him, and when therion's fingers twitch a bit, reaching, he laces his own between his. comforting, for both of them. he's tired, but he won't sleep - he has a job to do. he has to listen, he has to be here in order to monitor therion's breathing and his injuries, make sure he doesn't open anything, that an infection doesn't take hold. that's sort of a relief, too. the last time therion was this hurt, jiaoqiu could barely stand. it makes him feel better to be able to oversee therion getting better with his own two hands.
me too, therion says. they're both here. jiaoqiu exhales slow, and leans up to press a kiss to therion's cheek. good.
however long therion sleeps is okay. jiaoqiu doesn't want to leave him, so he doesn't go far. for a while, he stays under the blankets with him and makes sure that he doesn't get cold. once all that body heat is sufficiently trapped though, jiaoqiu slips out from under the blanket and tucks him in. gets up, and goes to look through his supplies. he's got enough to take care of therion for a couple of days, but. he doesn't really have any food or water, and that's a problem.
he'll have to go out and get something. not now, he's too afraid to leave therion alone. but... maybe when he's stablized a bit more. they can't move from this spot for at least a few days, he's going to insist. traveling with a stab wound and a recovering concussion will only make them sitting ducks for anything that wants to hurt them, and besides that, they're both probably wanted, now. it's far, far too cold for them to make it anywhere on foot, and the train will likely be watched.
as he's sitting there, staring into his backpack, there's a nasty little voice in the back of his mind that tells him it's possible that therion will just leave again. this is temporary. it could be temporary. he's not sure, though, and even in his worst of the worst mental health, he's resist to the idea. therion cares. remember what primrose said.
still. if he curls up by himself against the wall and shivers for a while, keeping an eye on therion's sleep, it feels like appropriate enough punishment. for what? hoping? having positive thoughts? he doesn't even know, really. ]
[ well, he's probably not going to like that, but he complains about most things so honestly what else is new.
so, he sleeps. he rests, that faint sensation of the kiss on his cheek the last thing he really remembers before losing consciousness, and... he doesn't sleep that long. only a couple of hours, really. therion's never been much of a sleeper in general, and only by being forced through injury does he even stay unconscious as long as he does, because his danger senses are still too haywire for him to actually rest.
his subconscious manifests this anxiety through a nightmare. in his subconscious, he's at the edge of a cliff face as a figure walks towards him, informs him of his decisions, his plans, and reminds him you're so easy to manipulate. just cheap words. and then he's falling, and when he looks up at the person on the edge of the cliff, he's got pink fox ears and a sly smile.
he's falling. the weightless sense of falling your body sometimes has duplicates in reality and in his dreams - he's falling, falling, and therion's good eye snaps open, and he desperately grabs at the bed like he's trying to keep himself from hitting the ground, then freezes. all the pain hits a few seconds later, radiating outwards from the back of his head, from his stomach, and he closes his eyes again, screwing them shut, tight, breathing hard. just a dream. just a dream, he's in northreach, he needs to get moving, and jiaoqiu -
right.
(the truth is that he's had this dream nearly every other night since he left. this is just the first time he's woken up and jiaoqiu was right there.)
he slowly opens his eyes against the wave of dizzy from the concussion, and tries to find jiaoqiu. where did he go. ]
[ well, he's not far to begin with, and with how much attention he's paying to therion, he notes the restlessness pretty much immediately. he's even closer when therion jolts awake.
instinctive, jiaoqiu pushes himself up off the ground where he's curled up and climbs onto the bed, sitting next to therion carefully. he makes a tsk sound under his breath as he checks therion over to make sure he didn't reopen any of his wounds or hurt himself further. but once he's done that, he sighs out slow, and adjusts the blankets around therion, trying not to touch his bare skin with his freezing hands. ]
You're alright.
[ he murmurs, pulling his feet up off the ground and sitting on the bed properly. he's sitting up, legs pressed against therion's side, hand resting on therion's not-broken arm. hesitation, and then: ]
[ it takes him a little longer than usual to come back from that, between the general context of the dream and his injuries, and he looks bewildered for a second under the panic. why is jiaoqiu on the ground. why is he here.
he's fine - breathing shallowly, still, he lets him look him over, only half really processing what's happening. his head hurts, and he feels jumpy, heart hammering against his chest, as he looks down slowly at the hand on his arms.
it occurs to him that he was asked a question belatedly, and he grunts, as laconic as always, though it's an agreeing noise. yeah. and, though he pulls his hand away, it's to start scrubbing at his face - which he immediately stops because of the damage on his eye, and sets his hand down uselessly in his lap instead, closing his good eye again. just a dream. just the same damn dream. ]
Stop that. [ he says, a little sharp, fussy, as therion reaches to rub his face - therion does stop, but jiaoqiu reaches for his wrist anyway. his doctor instincts are overriding everything else, which is probably good because therion pulling his hand away makes him want to slide back down to sit on the floor. for now, he steels himself for what comes next, for the bites, eyes open and exhausted.
as for we need to leave, jiaoqiu makes a negative noise. ]
No. You need rest. You're in no condition to travel. [ firmly, even though he knows therion is going to argue with him. ] I cannot carry you through miles of snow, and the train will likely be on alert.
[ he stops when he's told to stop like a good boy for once - the pulled away hand was mostly just to rub his face, and now it falls uselessly into his lap as he stares ahead and considers the grimness of their situation.
as he predicts, therion's not thrilled about that idea - he immediately says, ] I can walk. [ in protest, because it's not like his legs are broken? he's fine.
...however. he's more practical than anything. stubborn, yes, but practical - that's a part of what's kept him alive for so long. his head's pounding, his entire body hurts, and he feels weak, and he knows he is the liability. ]
Can't stay here safe for long. Someone's gonna find this place eventually. [ at least he's not sharp about it - in fact, there seems to be a little bit of resignation to what he says, because he recognizes both of what they're getting at is true. can't really leave safely. can't really stay safely, either.
he falls silent for a moment, brows furrowing as he considers this conundrum. it hurts to think, actually. it hurts to do much of anything. it's less bitey than usual, though whether that's because he's exhausted or because he's not feeling that way, it's hard to really say. ]
Don't worry about it. [ he says, voice calm. ] I said that I would protect you, and I will. Remember that I was a strategist, once. I can find a way to get you out safely.
[ he moves the blankets a little to check on therion's broken arm, and doesn't look therion in the eye. just adjusts the bandages, the sling. fusses with where he's got bandages across his torso - further down, checking out the stitches. they seem to be okay. no alarming red, no bleeding. a beat, and he pulls the blanket back up. ]
Don't rush yourself. You will make your injuries worse if you don't allow yourself to heal.
[ something about this just - he just stares down at the tail in his lap, feeling the lava-burst in his ribcage again, that painful, sticky feeling that floods warmth, that hardens into rock that bursts free again, every time. how many times has he sat like this with jiaoqiu in that little room in the tavern? in the hotel, or even back in the apartment, more than a year ago? even in the moment where therion doubted the most, he proved him wrong, proved that he never should have doubted in the first place. all he's ever done is show kindness. steady, persistent kindness, even when he barely had anything left to give.
i said that i would protect you. he looks up, finally, slowly - his good hand settles, resting on his tail like it's delicate. fragile. like it might vanish if he touches it too hard. jiaoqiu might not be looking him in the eye, but therion stares at him, and it takes a long moment for him to croak out an ask. ]
... Why?
[ this is a conversation they had before, a year ago. then, he was angry and confused, unsure if it was just playing pretend, unsure when the other shoe was going to drop, but positive it was going to.
this time, the question is asked a little differently. he's not angry. he's vulnerable - scared, and the croaked out question comes with the heavy weight of what he did, how therion was the one who caused this, who caused him to slide into the void again, who made him come all the way out here, who broke his heart because he was terrified of breaking them both, who bites and snaps and snarls. what has he ever actually done to deserve jiaoqiu coming here to help him?
in the way that jiaoqiu doubts that therion cares for him, sometimes it goes both ways. it's not that he doubts it. it's that he wonders if he does it out of a need to hurt himself. there's nothing about a parasite worth keeping around. why are you still here, after what i did? why do you still care?
it's a desperate question, not a mean one - like he just cannot comprehend it, after everything, because he still can't. there's an answer, and he knows what it is, but there's so little he's worth when it comes to all of the kindness and all of the love that jiaoqiu has shown him that it's almost impossible to comprehend. ]
[ the vulnerability in therion's voice is what makes it so that jiaoqiu doesn't shy away. a year ago, when he'd asked, it had been almost an accusation. it'd been a demand - tell me when you're going to give up or when you're going to throw me aside. he'd answered the only way he'd known how to then. and he's going to have to do that now, too. primrose's voice is in his head as he stares at therion; nothing can happen if they don't learn how to tell each other the truth.
so. ]
Therion.
[ he says, exhausted - maybe a little scolding. ]
How many times more must I tell you that I love you before it sticks?
[ because that's the reason. that's why. because even when he bites and even when he runs away, even when he's scared, jiaoqiu's life is brighter with him around. because until therion came around, he had no purpose. he didn't have a reason to laugh or to smile. he barely felt anything - pleasure, pain, sadness, anything, he was a blank slate and he had nothing else left to give. but with therion around, he has something. he feels like a person. and that has been his struggle for so many years that he doesn't want to give it up.
but even past that - therion is a good person. he's sweet in small ways. he's funny, and he's clever as hell, and jiaoqiu likes bantering with him. he likes that silence is comfortable between them, that they can be in the same room and not have to talk, he likes when they do talk, about whatever, it doesn't matter. he likes the little glimpses of a life he has with him.
jiaoqiu drags in a deep breath, and exhales. ]
I don't have much else to give you. [ his ears pin back a little. ] And if you don't want it, that's alright. But I can't bear to think of a world that doesn't have you in it, so I will not entertain the idea.
[ primrose asked him, do you want to find him? and the only answer he could manage was yes, because even with the worst parts, even when jiaoqiu drifted away and shut off, therion brought him out of it, saved him, woke him up. ]
[ the answer to that question is a million times, probably. or at least a hundred. at least it's starting to maybe, kind of, stick.
it's not that he doesn't believe jiaoqiu. it's that the why of it all. what has he done to deserve it? what has he done but hurt him? he told him, nearly a year ago, that he knew hew was going to end up hurting him. and he knows that jiaoqiu's made of tough stuff, he knows, but that soft core he has can hardly bear the idea.
a long time ago, jiaoqiu told him he felt more awake with therion. and he's seen it, in all of the time they've spent together. this is the first time he's seen jiaoqiu dip into the void of nothingness in ages, compared to when they first met, when he had to yank him out of it by the ears, clumsily, painfully, but he did it anyway. he doesn't know how much worse him leaving made it - he assumes it was a defensive mechanism for how badly therion got hurt, a doctor thing, and he doesn't have the mental capacity right now to consider anything further than that.
he's quiet for a long moment - brow knit, maybe even a little scolded, and slowly, he looks down at the tail in his lap again. ]
...I never said I didn't want it.
[ therion's voice is low and quiet - there's a tremor in his hand that's not coming from the bloodloss, an exhaustion that's bone deep, a fear that's practically been built into his bones. he pushes past it. he has to push past it.
slowly, he starts to push himself upright - only a little, careful not to agitate anything, but enough that he can start to sit up. stubborn as ever, until he can at least get partially there, and when that's the best he can do, he tips to the side and leans against jiaoqiu. it doesn't matter that he's bony, and it digs into his side. it doesn't matter, that he's cold - though he realizes it, and it occurs to him very belatedly that this safehouse isn't exactly cozy for the hellish weather of this place, but that's a problem for later.
it's a gesture of understanding. he needs a second to gather the strength. opens his mouth. closes it again. takes the time to steady himself physically and mentally. ]
...Just... acted like it, I guess. [ there's a little self depreciation in that, something more therion. ] Like a jackass.
[ jiaoqiu tenses, when therion starts to sit up. he starts to protest - but the words die on his tongue when he sees what therion is doing. he gets up and he tips over to lean against him, and jiaoqiu is cold and he's ready to retreat, not physically but emotionally, he's ready to withdraw into himself and vanish just as fast as therion is ready to put the physical distance in. but therion closes that physical distance, this time. he rests against jiaoqiu, and jiaoqiu is hesitant and afraid for just a moment.
and then he's not. not because he wipes it away, like a magnet against a vcr, but because he knows he doesn't really need to be. he doesn't have to withdraw.
carefully, so as to not jostle his injuries, jiaoqiu shifts them both. he moves so that he can lean against the wall, and so that therion can lean against him like that, so that both of them can share the blanket in this frigid weather. if therion will go, he'll even pull him into his lap, and wrap his arms around him.
and he takes what therion says, and sighs, before stroking his fingers through therion's hair. ]
... I'd like to think I've learned how to read you. [ he answers, soft. ] But that is the one thing I have never been good at recognizing. You told me once to read between the lines, but no matter how hard I try, the only thing I can glean is that I'm not worth your time.
[ simple, not self-pitying, not accusatory, nothing like that. this isn't therion's fault, it's just the way his brain is wired. ]
Primrose told me, before I left, that both of us have the habit of expecting the other to know what we're thinking without saying it.
[ well, first of all, he goes pretty much wherever he's put. right now he does not have the physical strength to complain about anything (though god knows he will find a way, because he's therion) and not only that, but he's still cold, in that persistent, awful way that freezes you down to your bones, that will stick with him for days after they've let this place. he just lets jiaoqiu move him, lets him stroke his fingers through his hair, a collapsed bag of bones, exhausted down to his core.
besides. being close again lets him turn his face a little against his shoulder - pressing a tiny bit into the cut on his face. it hurts, but it's bracing, a grounding kind of feeling, like clenching your fists until the nails bite in. it keeps him awake. keeps him listening. keeps the gut instinct in check.
all therion ever does is fight. for once, he could rest. if you could take my offer without biting first, for once, you could have a home.
and so, right now, he listens. and as jiaoqiu answers him, he frowns to himself, starting to protest. ] That's...
[ but... as jiaoqiu continues, he shuts his mouth, because he has a point. or, well. primrose has a point. something burns in the back of his throat. shame, guilt. and in response, therion makes a rough noise that might be a dry laugh. ]
... yeah, well. Takes one to know one.
[ there's a little more of his normal sense of humor coming through, something dry, a little mean. he loves primrose but she's incompetent also. maybe that's why he loves her.
there's another long moment of silence, and he turns his cheek a little further against his shoulder. jiaoqiu has learned to read him, in many ways. as someone who finds himself to be generally unreadable on purpose, being able to be understood has been a new and frightening concept, but he's come to appreciate it, how jiaoqiu seems to understand when he just can't get the words out, but it's only pavement on the path forward. every time he has to open his vulnerabilities to the world, he has to wrench open his ribcage to pull them out - at least now that he's hurt, half the work's done for him.
he takes a breath. in, out. ]
...You are. Worth my time. [ muffled. ] 's half the problem.
[ in his lap it is, then!! because he's cold, and therion is cold, and body heat is the best way to keep warm. and also because it's grounding, too. that's important. having therion in his arms like this keeps him from letting the quicksand in. especially when he turns a little, when he hides. jiaoqiu tucks him in, making sure he's as comfortable as he can get.
it's starting to warm up, this way. he's shivering less. as for therion's comment on primrose, jiaoqiu huffs. ]
Mm. She recognized something was wrong. [ primrose saw him drifting, and she helped, because she knows what it's like to be positively empty. jiaoqiu doesn't really know how to talk about his episodes, so he doesn't, but. there's a hint that things got bad while therion was away.
he sits in the silence, eyes closed, head resting against the uninjured part of therion's. breathes in, when he hears you are worth my time - and exhales, at the rest. it makes him feel a little less aching. a little less unmoored. you're worth it, but it can't really be that simple. he wants simple, but they both have to claw through layers and layers of insecurities and trauma and fear to get to it, and he's so tired. both of them are. ]
Why is it a problem? [ easy, casual. a touch of nothing, even if he's trying not to. ]
[ for someone who is so cocksure and confident, this is easily the most torn down he's ever been. maybe it's almost dying. maybe it was the fact that he did almost die alone, but someone - someone who he he has tentatively placed his trust in and who has never, ever let him down - came to help him. when he didn't deserve it, he came anyway. because he loves therion, for some fucking reason, because he thinks he matters, and he cares for him, and he curls that tiny bit further into his arms, into himself. protecting himself, but curling closer all the same, a contradiction to his core.
why is it a problem? it's his instinct to say it that way - because why wouldn't it be? because it's the antithesis to everything therion has been, because - ]
... I...
[ he's trying - wrenching his ribcage open, taking out his messy, broken heart and throwing it on the floor, letting it splatter. everything he does that tries to be gentle is all wrong, whether it's to others or to himself, because he's afraid of it. even now, his heartbeat, sluggish from injury, rushes too fast. the words come out raw - at the end of his sentence, his voice cracks. ]
I can't - do it again.
[ and there it is, exactly what primrose noted, before. fear. therion is as brave as they come, unafraid of toil or danger - he lives on the edge of a knife, but the one thing he fears the most is giving himself over to someone, trusting someone, and having it blow up in his face again. he is so soft, so achingly soft, a stupid, sentimental tea leaf, a touchy feely fool who only learned how to bite to protect himself from what already came. jiaoqiu's proven himself over and over that he won't, but the trauma of what was done to him is as deeply ingrained as the scar on his face, and he balked because he wanted to stay. because he wants this life, this softer thing that he could let himself have, he wants it more than any treasure he's ever stolen, wants to keep it and dig his claws into it, and the last time he wanted that, he ended up falling. he's not strong enough to love and lose like that again. he survived it, once, a miracle at the bottom of a cliff. a second time, he'd be down for the count.
therion swallows, and it burns the back of his throat. it feels stupid, to have even said it out loud. eyes screwed shut, he turns his face a little further, and buries it into jiaoqiu's shoulder so he doesn't have to look at him, burning with shame and guilt (he didn't miss that little comment, that primrose saw how bad it was) and a fear so cloying that it puts anxiety to shame. ]
[ he's quiet for a couple of moments, just letting the words sit between them, letting himself hear them. thinks it through. he can't fuck this up. he has to be honest, he has to hold out his hands because therion is standing right outside his door, and if he can just do this right, he can bring him inside, over the threshold. but even as he's thinking that, it feels stupid. it feels stupid to try and approach this logically, and more than anything, he doesn't want to manipulate this in his favor. he just wants everything that's been left unsaid to be said.
so - he tosses all of his well thought out arguments and angles and just adjusts his arms, holding therion close. wraps around him, arms, legs, tail. and, quietly, against therion's ear: ]
Neither can I.
[ because they're in the same boat, right? therion lives on the edge of a knife and jiaoqiu lives on the edge of a black hole, and both of them are always right about to fall. years and years ago, he sat in the dark as a gentle combat medic told him that the general and her retainer had fallen, and he'd never crawled back out. every year he sat in front of two graves and became moss, rot, a hollowed out jar. therion learned how to bite, and jiaoqiu did the opposite - let anything and everything just happen to him, because nothing mattered, because everything that he ever loved was gone so fast, and he wasn't there to protect them. all of his grand gestures, his clever plans, quick tongue - nothing. it was nothing, and he was nothing, and then one night a thief curled up in the back alley of his pharmacy and hissed at him, and the lights turned on one by one.
that's the thing. that's the truth behind i cannot imagine a world without you in it. he's already there. he's already at the point of no return, and if it ends now, a second time, he'd be done. ]
But we're already in the middle of it, love. [ he says, voice soft and weary. ] It's a little late for that.
[ a beat, and he rests his hand against the back of therion's head, keeping him close. ]
I need... I need. [ he starts, and stops, and tries. ] I need you. I need to know that you aren't going to run and leave me to rot, and I need you to believe that there is not a world that exists where I would betray your trust.
[ his voice wavers at the end, and he hides his face. ]
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but he doesn't. he glances at therion, and doesn't say anything. he feels like a mirage. like if therion pushed a little further he'd go right through him. therion is alive. he's going to be fine, he made sure of it, he stitched him up and he's talking, he's saying his name. jiaoqiu saved him. but - if he didn't. if this isn't real, if he's tending a body and his mind won't let him realize it, that - that could happen. it could be happening right now.
he wishes it didn't get like this, sometimes. he wishes he could be certain what is and isn't real. therion's hand has to be real. he stares down at it. ]
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in reality, this is his fault. all of it - the living, breathing consequences of his decisions that hurt not just himself, but others, too. but there's no room in his injured head for self frustration, for blame, for anything. what there is is jiaoqiu, who saved his life, who came all the way here, who needs an anchor.
so. he lets go of his sleeve, but he reaches up farther. it's a little slow - up, up, until he can find the back of jiaoqiu's neck, fingers curling, as he gives an insistent tug. it's lacking strength, but he pulls, anyway, tries to pull him down. come here. come down here. ]
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he doesn't resist. therion slowly curls his fingers around his neck, and there's no strength to the tugging but it doesn't matter. he goes, because he needs it, because he needs the physical reminder that he didn't lose this, too. carefully, not aggravating any of therion's wounds, he sinks down and curls around therion, resting his hand on the side of his face again, forehead to forehead.
and maybe, in the middle of it, he can accept that therion wants him to be present. that he's trying even when he's concussed to hell and back, when he's missing all his blood. he breathes in sharp, like a knife. exhales slow. tries to wake up. ]
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in a sense, it's less clumsy than usual. there's no need to bluster, to be embarrassed about it, simply because he doesn't have the energy to do it. in his basal instinct, he can tell that jiaoqiu is drifting, and in his basal instinct, he can tell that this is how to help, and in his basal instinct, he wants to help jiaoqiu. because he cares about him, because he loves him, and the entire reason he left was because that idea terrified him.
forehead to forehead, it's gentle, barely a touch, so much softer than he'd ever reach for, but this is a safe harbor. jiaoqiu is a safe harbor. even if they're still in this terrible place, no one will find them here, and he doesn't have enough energy to be paranoid about it, either. ]
Talk. [ tiredly. ] Normally can't... get you to shut up.
[ there's a little of therion's normal therion - it's kind of a joke. but jiaoqiu said if he needed him to talk, he would, and jiaoqiu needs to talk for them both. ]
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he pets therion absently. ]
... Are you sure you want me to? I'm not sure if it'll be screaming or scolding. [ he jokes, feebly. one step forward. one step up out of the muck. ]
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[ is he joking
its hard to tell ]
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that - okay, well, that makes him actually laugh, and this time it's a little hiccuppy, because the emotion it pulls out of him feels like a wave. he chokes just a little on it, but. recovers pretty fast, at least.
a bit of the tension in the way he holds himself evaporates from his shoulders. ]
Luckily for you, I don't have the energy. [ there's more life, in that. ] Nor do I have the strength to scold you, either.
[ ... ]
I have painkillers. Do you want them?
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therion doesn't laugh, but there's a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth, and that will have to be enough.
as for painkillers, though, he starts to shake his head - then thinks better of it, because fucking ow, and then just grunts. ] 's fine. [ he doesn't need them. ] Don't... want to be out of it.
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maybe he will hold therion's hand. sorry about it. ]
You should rest, out of it or no. [ he says, softer. ] You can sleep. I'll make sure nothing happens.
[ therion's dizzy and concussed, but he's capable of a conversation, and his breathing is okay, so jiaoqiu doesn't see any reason why he can't drift if he needs to. ]
... I'm here. [ he's awake. present. he won't sink. ]
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but he considers "i'm here", too tired to do much self-loathing. he's here, mentally, but... physically, too. physically, he's caught therion more than once. here, therion would be dead without him. and it wasn't just trust that brought him up here to see him, after therion was the one who pushed him away. he's here, despite everything, he's here.
jiaoqiu can hold his hand. if it's his broken arm, he can't move it much, but he doesn't move it away - in fact, he spreads his fingertips just the tiniest bit. lets him in. heart heavy, voice a bare wisp as sleep calls to him, therion closes his eyes and says, rough and quiet. ] ...Me too.
[ i'm here. here, alive. here, together. whatever meaning of the word, he's here.
he takes a deeper breath. in, out. and for the first time, with jiaoqiu in this little safehouse, he closes his eyes and allows the unconsciousness that's been tugging at his eyelids to finally take him, letting out a slow, quiet sigh. he's not going to let him fall. despite everything - despite that he should, really - jiaoqiu won't let him die, and therion's too stubborn to do anything but live.
he won't want to sleep too long, but his body likely won't let him do otherwise, exhausted and desperately in need of time to heal. ]
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but that's for later. jiaoqiu holds him, and when therion's fingers twitch a bit, reaching, he laces his own between his. comforting, for both of them. he's tired, but he won't sleep - he has a job to do. he has to listen, he has to be here in order to monitor therion's breathing and his injuries, make sure he doesn't open anything, that an infection doesn't take hold. that's sort of a relief, too. the last time therion was this hurt, jiaoqiu could barely stand. it makes him feel better to be able to oversee therion getting better with his own two hands.
me too, therion says. they're both here. jiaoqiu exhales slow, and leans up to press a kiss to therion's cheek. good.
however long therion sleeps is okay. jiaoqiu doesn't want to leave him, so he doesn't go far. for a while, he stays under the blankets with him and makes sure that he doesn't get cold. once all that body heat is sufficiently trapped though, jiaoqiu slips out from under the blanket and tucks him in. gets up, and goes to look through his supplies. he's got enough to take care of therion for a couple of days, but. he doesn't really have any food or water, and that's a problem.
he'll have to go out and get something. not now, he's too afraid to leave therion alone. but... maybe when he's stablized a bit more. they can't move from this spot for at least a few days, he's going to insist. traveling with a stab wound and a recovering concussion will only make them sitting ducks for anything that wants to hurt them, and besides that, they're both probably wanted, now. it's far, far too cold for them to make it anywhere on foot, and the train will likely be watched.
as he's sitting there, staring into his backpack, there's a nasty little voice in the back of his mind that tells him it's possible that therion will just leave again. this is temporary. it could be temporary. he's not sure, though, and even in his worst of the worst mental health, he's resist to the idea. therion cares. remember what primrose said.
still. if he curls up by himself against the wall and shivers for a while, keeping an eye on therion's sleep, it feels like appropriate enough punishment. for what? hoping? having positive thoughts? he doesn't even know, really. ]
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so, he sleeps. he rests, that faint sensation of the kiss on his cheek the last thing he really remembers before losing consciousness, and... he doesn't sleep that long. only a couple of hours, really. therion's never been much of a sleeper in general, and only by being forced through injury does he even stay unconscious as long as he does, because his danger senses are still too haywire for him to actually rest.
his subconscious manifests this anxiety through a nightmare. in his subconscious, he's at the edge of a cliff face as a figure walks towards him, informs him of his decisions, his plans, and reminds him you're so easy to manipulate. just cheap words. and then he's falling, and when he looks up at the person on the edge of the cliff, he's got pink fox ears and a sly smile.
he's falling. the weightless sense of falling your body sometimes has duplicates in reality and in his dreams - he's falling, falling, and therion's good eye snaps open, and he desperately grabs at the bed like he's trying to keep himself from hitting the ground, then freezes. all the pain hits a few seconds later, radiating outwards from the back of his head, from his stomach, and he closes his eyes again, screwing them shut, tight, breathing hard. just a dream. just a dream, he's in northreach, he needs to get moving, and jiaoqiu -
right.
(the truth is that he's had this dream nearly every other night since he left. this is just the first time he's woken up and jiaoqiu was right there.)
he slowly opens his eyes against the wave of dizzy from the concussion, and tries to find jiaoqiu. where did he go. ]
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instinctive, jiaoqiu pushes himself up off the ground where he's curled up and climbs onto the bed, sitting next to therion carefully. he makes a tsk sound under his breath as he checks therion over to make sure he didn't reopen any of his wounds or hurt himself further. but once he's done that, he sighs out slow, and adjusts the blankets around therion, trying not to touch his bare skin with his freezing hands. ]
You're alright.
[ he murmurs, pulling his feet up off the ground and sitting on the bed properly. he's sitting up, legs pressed against therion's side, hand resting on therion's not-broken arm. hesitation, and then: ]
... Nightmares?
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he's fine - breathing shallowly, still, he lets him look him over, only half really processing what's happening. his head hurts, and he feels jumpy, heart hammering against his chest, as he looks down slowly at the hand on his arms.
it occurs to him that he was asked a question belatedly, and he grunts, as laconic as always, though it's an agreeing noise. yeah. and, though he pulls his hand away, it's to start scrubbing at his face - which he immediately stops because of the damage on his eye, and sets his hand down uselessly in his lap instead, closing his good eye again. just a dream. just the same damn dream. ]
's fine. [ pause. ] We need to leave.
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as for we need to leave, jiaoqiu makes a negative noise. ]
No. You need rest. You're in no condition to travel. [ firmly, even though he knows therion is going to argue with him. ] I cannot carry you through miles of snow, and the train will likely be on alert.
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as he predicts, therion's not thrilled about that idea - he immediately says, ] I can walk. [ in protest, because it's not like his legs are broken? he's fine.
...however. he's more practical than anything. stubborn, yes, but practical - that's a part of what's kept him alive for so long. his head's pounding, his entire body hurts, and he feels weak, and he knows he is the liability. ]
Can't stay here safe for long. Someone's gonna find this place eventually. [ at least he's not sharp about it - in fact, there seems to be a little bit of resignation to what he says, because he recognizes both of what they're getting at is true. can't really leave safely. can't really stay safely, either.
he falls silent for a moment, brows furrowing as he considers this conundrum. it hurts to think, actually. it hurts to do much of anything. it's less bitey than usual, though whether that's because he's exhausted or because he's not feeling that way, it's hard to really say. ]
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Don't worry about it. [ he says, voice calm. ] I said that I would protect you, and I will. Remember that I was a strategist, once. I can find a way to get you out safely.
[ he moves the blankets a little to check on therion's broken arm, and doesn't look therion in the eye. just adjusts the bandages, the sling. fusses with where he's got bandages across his torso - further down, checking out the stitches. they seem to be okay. no alarming red, no bleeding. a beat, and he pulls the blanket back up. ]
Don't rush yourself. You will make your injuries worse if you don't allow yourself to heal.
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i said that i would protect you. he looks up, finally, slowly - his good hand settles, resting on his tail like it's delicate. fragile. like it might vanish if he touches it too hard. jiaoqiu might not be looking him in the eye, but therion stares at him, and it takes a long moment for him to croak out an ask. ]
... Why?
[ this is a conversation they had before, a year ago. then, he was angry and confused, unsure if it was just playing pretend, unsure when the other shoe was going to drop, but positive it was going to.
this time, the question is asked a little differently. he's not angry. he's vulnerable - scared, and the croaked out question comes with the heavy weight of what he did, how therion was the one who caused this, who caused him to slide into the void again, who made him come all the way out here, who broke his heart because he was terrified of breaking them both, who bites and snaps and snarls. what has he ever actually done to deserve jiaoqiu coming here to help him?
in the way that jiaoqiu doubts that therion cares for him, sometimes it goes both ways. it's not that he doubts it. it's that he wonders if he does it out of a need to hurt himself. there's nothing about a parasite worth keeping around. why are you still here, after what i did? why do you still care?
it's a desperate question, not a mean one - like he just cannot comprehend it, after everything, because he still can't. there's an answer, and he knows what it is, but there's so little he's worth when it comes to all of the kindness and all of the love that jiaoqiu has shown him that it's almost impossible to comprehend. ]
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so. ]
Therion.
[ he says, exhausted - maybe a little scolding. ]
How many times more must I tell you that I love you before it sticks?
[ because that's the reason. that's why. because even when he bites and even when he runs away, even when he's scared, jiaoqiu's life is brighter with him around. because until therion came around, he had no purpose. he didn't have a reason to laugh or to smile. he barely felt anything - pleasure, pain, sadness, anything, he was a blank slate and he had nothing else left to give. but with therion around, he has something. he feels like a person. and that has been his struggle for so many years that he doesn't want to give it up.
but even past that - therion is a good person. he's sweet in small ways. he's funny, and he's clever as hell, and jiaoqiu likes bantering with him. he likes that silence is comfortable between them, that they can be in the same room and not have to talk, he likes when they do talk, about whatever, it doesn't matter. he likes the little glimpses of a life he has with him.
jiaoqiu drags in a deep breath, and exhales. ]
I don't have much else to give you. [ his ears pin back a little. ] And if you don't want it, that's alright. But I can't bear to think of a world that doesn't have you in it, so I will not entertain the idea.
[ primrose asked him, do you want to find him? and the only answer he could manage was yes, because even with the worst parts, even when jiaoqiu drifted away and shut off, therion brought him out of it, saved him, woke him up. ]
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it's not that he doesn't believe jiaoqiu. it's that the why of it all. what has he done to deserve it? what has he done but hurt him? he told him, nearly a year ago, that he knew hew was going to end up hurting him. and he knows that jiaoqiu's made of tough stuff, he knows, but that soft core he has can hardly bear the idea.
a long time ago, jiaoqiu told him he felt more awake with therion. and he's seen it, in all of the time they've spent together. this is the first time he's seen jiaoqiu dip into the void of nothingness in ages, compared to when they first met, when he had to yank him out of it by the ears, clumsily, painfully, but he did it anyway. he doesn't know how much worse him leaving made it - he assumes it was a defensive mechanism for how badly therion got hurt, a doctor thing, and he doesn't have the mental capacity right now to consider anything further than that.
he's quiet for a long moment - brow knit, maybe even a little scolded, and slowly, he looks down at the tail in his lap again. ]
...I never said I didn't want it.
[ therion's voice is low and quiet - there's a tremor in his hand that's not coming from the bloodloss, an exhaustion that's bone deep, a fear that's practically been built into his bones. he pushes past it. he has to push past it.
slowly, he starts to push himself upright - only a little, careful not to agitate anything, but enough that he can start to sit up. stubborn as ever, until he can at least get partially there, and when that's the best he can do, he tips to the side and leans against jiaoqiu. it doesn't matter that he's bony, and it digs into his side. it doesn't matter, that he's cold - though he realizes it, and it occurs to him very belatedly that this safehouse isn't exactly cozy for the hellish weather of this place, but that's a problem for later.
it's a gesture of understanding. he needs a second to gather the strength. opens his mouth. closes it again. takes the time to steady himself physically and mentally. ]
...Just... acted like it, I guess. [ there's a little self depreciation in that, something more therion. ] Like a jackass.
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and then he's not. not because he wipes it away, like a magnet against a vcr, but because he knows he doesn't really need to be. he doesn't have to withdraw.
carefully, so as to not jostle his injuries, jiaoqiu shifts them both. he moves so that he can lean against the wall, and so that therion can lean against him like that, so that both of them can share the blanket in this frigid weather. if therion will go, he'll even pull him into his lap, and wrap his arms around him.
and he takes what therion says, and sighs, before stroking his fingers through therion's hair. ]
... I'd like to think I've learned how to read you. [ he answers, soft. ] But that is the one thing I have never been good at recognizing. You told me once to read between the lines, but no matter how hard I try, the only thing I can glean is that I'm not worth your time.
[ simple, not self-pitying, not accusatory, nothing like that. this isn't therion's fault, it's just the way his brain is wired. ]
Primrose told me, before I left, that both of us have the habit of expecting the other to know what we're thinking without saying it.
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besides. being close again lets him turn his face a little against his shoulder - pressing a tiny bit into the cut on his face. it hurts, but it's bracing, a grounding kind of feeling, like clenching your fists until the nails bite in. it keeps him awake. keeps him listening. keeps the gut instinct in check.
all therion ever does is fight. for once, he could rest. if you could take my offer without biting first, for once, you could have a home.
and so, right now, he listens. and as jiaoqiu answers him, he frowns to himself, starting to protest. ] That's...
[ but... as jiaoqiu continues, he shuts his mouth, because he has a point. or, well. primrose has a point. something burns in the back of his throat. shame, guilt. and in response, therion makes a rough noise that might be a dry laugh. ]
... yeah, well. Takes one to know one.
[ there's a little more of his normal sense of humor coming through, something dry, a little mean. he loves primrose but she's incompetent also. maybe that's why he loves her.
there's another long moment of silence, and he turns his cheek a little further against his shoulder. jiaoqiu has learned to read him, in many ways. as someone who finds himself to be generally unreadable on purpose, being able to be understood has been a new and frightening concept, but he's come to appreciate it, how jiaoqiu seems to understand when he just can't get the words out, but it's only pavement on the path forward. every time he has to open his vulnerabilities to the world, he has to wrench open his ribcage to pull them out - at least now that he's hurt, half the work's done for him.
he takes a breath. in, out. ]
...You are. Worth my time. [ muffled. ] 's half the problem.
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it's starting to warm up, this way. he's shivering less. as for therion's comment on primrose, jiaoqiu huffs. ]
Mm. She recognized something was wrong. [ primrose saw him drifting, and she helped, because she knows what it's like to be positively empty. jiaoqiu doesn't really know how to talk about his episodes, so he doesn't, but. there's a hint that things got bad while therion was away.
he sits in the silence, eyes closed, head resting against the uninjured part of therion's. breathes in, when he hears you are worth my time - and exhales, at the rest. it makes him feel a little less aching. a little less unmoored. you're worth it, but it can't really be that simple. he wants simple, but they both have to claw through layers and layers of insecurities and trauma and fear to get to it, and he's so tired. both of them are. ]
Why is it a problem? [ easy, casual. a touch of nothing, even if he's trying not to. ]
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why is it a problem? it's his instinct to say it that way - because why wouldn't it be? because it's the antithesis to everything therion has been, because - ]
... I...
[ he's trying - wrenching his ribcage open, taking out his messy, broken heart and throwing it on the floor, letting it splatter. everything he does that tries to be gentle is all wrong, whether it's to others or to himself, because he's afraid of it. even now, his heartbeat, sluggish from injury, rushes too fast. the words come out raw - at the end of his sentence, his voice cracks. ]
I can't - do it again.
[ and there it is, exactly what primrose noted, before. fear. therion is as brave as they come, unafraid of toil or danger - he lives on the edge of a knife, but the one thing he fears the most is giving himself over to someone, trusting someone, and having it blow up in his face again. he is so soft, so achingly soft, a stupid, sentimental tea leaf, a touchy feely fool who only learned how to bite to protect himself from what already came. jiaoqiu's proven himself over and over that he won't, but the trauma of what was done to him is as deeply ingrained as the scar on his face, and he balked because he wanted to stay. because he wants this life, this softer thing that he could let himself have, he wants it more than any treasure he's ever stolen, wants to keep it and dig his claws into it, and the last time he wanted that, he ended up falling. he's not strong enough to love and lose like that again. he survived it, once, a miracle at the bottom of a cliff. a second time, he'd be down for the count.
therion swallows, and it burns the back of his throat. it feels stupid, to have even said it out loud. eyes screwed shut, he turns his face a little further, and buries it into jiaoqiu's shoulder so he doesn't have to look at him, burning with shame and guilt (he didn't miss that little comment, that primrose saw how bad it was) and a fear so cloying that it puts anxiety to shame. ]
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so - he tosses all of his well thought out arguments and angles and just adjusts his arms, holding therion close. wraps around him, arms, legs, tail. and, quietly, against therion's ear: ]
Neither can I.
[ because they're in the same boat, right? therion lives on the edge of a knife and jiaoqiu lives on the edge of a black hole, and both of them are always right about to fall. years and years ago, he sat in the dark as a gentle combat medic told him that the general and her retainer had fallen, and he'd never crawled back out. every year he sat in front of two graves and became moss, rot, a hollowed out jar. therion learned how to bite, and jiaoqiu did the opposite - let anything and everything just happen to him, because nothing mattered, because everything that he ever loved was gone so fast, and he wasn't there to protect them. all of his grand gestures, his clever plans, quick tongue - nothing. it was nothing, and he was nothing, and then one night a thief curled up in the back alley of his pharmacy and hissed at him, and the lights turned on one by one.
that's the thing. that's the truth behind i cannot imagine a world without you in it. he's already there. he's already at the point of no return, and if it ends now, a second time, he'd be done. ]
But we're already in the middle of it, love. [ he says, voice soft and weary. ] It's a little late for that.
[ a beat, and he rests his hand against the back of therion's head, keeping him close. ]
I need... I need. [ he starts, and stops, and tries. ] I need you. I need to know that you aren't going to run and leave me to rot, and I need you to believe that there is not a world that exists where I would betray your trust.
[ his voice wavers at the end, and he hides his face. ]
I need you to let go and let me catch you.
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