[ 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. ]
what a way to say it. the framing is different, and so is the context - instead of standing at the edge, ready to be pushed, jiaoqiu asks instead for him to jump. can he?
the first way to heal from having your trust destroyed is to learn to trust others again. it started with cordelia and heathcote - cordelia, who tossed his assumptions about her perfect little life right into his face, taught him a second lesson in humility. it grew from there, with people like primrose. but no one's ever made it this far. he's never invited someone with him, to leave. he's never considered what it meant to stay, until jiaoqiu. truthfully, when jiaoqiu suggested the idea of having therion live with him, it was the gravity of the realization that he might not hate it at all that sent him skittering, terrified of his own growth just as much as the intimacy of it all itself.
but he has learned, slowly, that jiaoqiu is trustworthy. he learned that when he came to his safehouse. when he treated his injuries with no questions, when therion knew he could come to jiaoqiu to be cared for. bit by tiny bit, he steps free of the shadows, reaches out into the hand being offered to him and presses to it, and the feeling of undeniable warmth that comes from it makes him want to dive further and run all at the same time. he's balanced between the two at a constant, and this little incident was the final straw. but he's right, that it's already too late to balk. therion doesn't get scared, and having that knowledge out there too makes his throat tight, stings his pride, and that feeling of shame that goes with it is hard to fight.
his head hurts. jiaoqiu's hand never touches where he was injured, cradling, and it gives him goosebumps, sends a chill gently slinking down his spine, and he lets that ground him, too, keeping his eyes closed and breathing in. it's shaky, in, and out, and the lump in his throat feels like it grows, grows, but he swallows hard around it and rumbles, as rough as sandpaper, through every layer of trauma, to reality: ]
...I trust you.
[ because he does. as terrifying as that is, it needs to be said. it could still bite him in the ass someday, but it feels further and further off, as time has gone on. he has come to associate jiaoqiu with safety, and though he once did the same with darius, his partner, maybe the second time is the charm.
he wants to say something - make a pithy comment, deny it, do something, but he doesn't. being able to say that he trusts jiaoqiu is a big step, but this conversation asks for more than that. he's asking therion not to run away from him, again, too, but he'll get to that in a second - therion has to choke down this level of vulnerability in pieces, or he'll panic, and he'll run away. he needs jiaoqiu to understand the gravity of what he just said in order to be able to continue. ]
[ something in him knew that already. he knows that therion trusts him because therion is letting him hold him like this while he's injured, because therion let him pick him up and carry him to safety. it'd be stupid to not know that, and yet - still, when therion says it out loud, manages to convey it without a shitty comment or a sarcastic cushioning, it means more than he thought it could.
jiaoqiu understands the gravity. he knows how hard that was for therion to say, how he needed to dig deep and drag the words out kicking and screaming. how much therion has grown to even be able to get it out of him. he knows, because it's the same for him - maybe not to the same amount of impossibility, but. he knows what it's like to have words trapped in your throat.
so, soft, he takes therion's hand, and laces their fingers. kisses his cheek. ]
... Thank you. I'm glad that you do. [ and his tone is so very serious - gentle, but serious. he understands.
that much, even, soothes his own worries, just a little bit. he feels a little less like he's going to buzz out of his skin. therion says it out loud, and his shoulders ease, his - fucking fur stands up on end, a little shiver of something like relief or joy or a shaky mix of both making his tail jitter. he needed to hear it out loud, and he didn't realize how much.
there's more to talk about, but he's okay to take it slow. it's easier on the both of the, especially when therion is as injured as he is. so, he gives them both a moment, doesn't say anything else. just holds therion's hand, reassuring. ]
[ if he was feeling an iota better, this might have actually been more difficult. all the fizzy, live-wire sensations that come after an adrenaline crash are muted by his body's current state, so he can't jitter too hard out of his skin after saying it. it doesn't make the anxious nerves settle, necessarily, but it's enough to hold him into one place, as opposed to backtracking, or worse, backsliding.
his hand is still a little cold, but he lets jiaoqiu take it. he can't quite look at him, so the kiss to his cheek feels especially intimate, with his bad side buried into jiaoqiu's shoulder, and unwittingly his lashes flutter where they're closed, feeling his heart swell underneath everything, despite everything. despite how badly his heart was shattered all those years ago, it still beats.
he's feeling very overwhelmed. but jiaoqiu's reaction is positive, as far as he can tell, so. good. good. therion exhales out - shaky, still, a little tremor in his hand, and sags a little further into where jiaoqiu is holding him, tension releasing slowly, piece by piece.
and, quietly - still not quite ready to move on - he says: ] ...thank you.
[ for more than just the fact that he rescued him, but for everything. for the care. for the fact that he still showed up here, despite therion's awful edges, his harsh words, his tendency to flee from closeness, his inability to communicate, for loving him for some reason despite everything. and most of all, for being worth that trust, for proving consistently, over and over again, that the world isn't always full of people like darius, that maybe some people are worth being afraid, for.
he keeps his eyes firmly closed for now, tucked against his shoulder, and rides out that emotional wave, too, exhausted. ]
[ as therion sinks further into him, jiaoqiu fusses a little. wraps the blanket around him a little more snugly, shifts against the wall so he can comfortably lean and make room for therion to do so. he holds his hand with one of his own, and strokes his skin with his thumb, slow and steady, to try and ease that tremor. keeps his other arm around him, supporting him up.
he's a very patient person. jiaoqiu very rarely rushes in his daily life, and he sees no reason to do so now. he takes it easy, and is rewarded by therion relaxing bit by bit. maybe when he's less injured, he can offer to massage his shoulders, his back. it might do him some good.
when therion speaks, jiaoqiu's lips twitch at the corners. he tucks therion's head under his chin. ]
You don't need to. [ thank him, he means. but, because he recognizes the effort: ] You're welcome, regardless.
[ he lets the silence sit for a minute again. thinks, maybe he can add a little cushioning to this, because therion is so exhausted. so - his tail shifts under the covers, wriggling so that it can settle over therion's lap again. it's heavy, and it's warm. ]
... You know. [ he starts, mildly. ] The man who planned to turn you in for coin brought your scarf and your blade as proof. They were covered in blood. He dropped them on the counter, and had the bartender not intervened, I would have ripped his throat out with my teeth. I had the angle prepared in my head.
god. he makes a little bit of a face when he says "you don't need to", fully ready to throw that away, but he accepts it, so it's silenced. he doesn't just give his thank yous out for no reason, and maybe he can shovel some self love into jiaoqiu's mouth one of these days like feeding a fussy baby. he's too tired to be cool about it, so he just huffs, allowing himself to be moved. that in and of itself is the ultimate sign of trust, the fact that he's burrowed here despite being wildly injured, safe enough to be not just treated, but to be held, too.
he closes his eyes again in that moment of silence, trying to return himself to some kind of normalcy, in as much as he can. violently out of whack in every way possible, it's not a - bad feeling, but it's strange, augmented by being injured. he feels like he needs to go for a lap, but he's too tired to even move.
as he's considering this, jiaoqiu starts talking again, and slowly, therion's eyes open. first of all, ugh, his stuff, but as he continues... there's a twitch to his mouth that might be a smile, there and you'll miss it. ] Yeah?
[ he knows jiaoqiu is vicious, knows enough about who he was in the past and has spent enough time with him in the present to know that he means it, but there's something funny about jiaoqiu in his fancy boy clothes ready to rip someone's throat out like a feral animal, especially when that someone is, likely, gareth. (and there's something a little soft, about knowing someone would go to those lengths for someone like you.) ]
You would've gotten your ass kicked. [ he says, finally, his voice a rumble of sound near jiaoqiu's chest - there's a hint of laughter to it, something a little less high strung. ] Would've been worth it, though.
anyway, jiaoqiu knows how to get blood out of clothing, thankfully, but he's going to be thinking about the blood in the scarf he gave therion for about as long as he lives. the emotion that he had when he saw it was - a lot. grief, mostly, but an undefinable amount of violence, too, something that startled him a bit with the strength of it. ]
I saw red. [ he says, simply. he would've gotten his ass kicked, yeah, they would've wiped the floor with him. but at least he would've taken out the leader with him. sure, it's a little suicidal, but that's kind of his whole existence, so. he carries melancholy and a lingering, drifting sadness in his bones.
but - he hears that little laugh in therion's voice, and that's what he was aiming for. something to ease the tension. something to try and make a bridge. maybe he's making it harder for himself, here. maybe he's never going to coax an answer out of therion if he keeps helping him wriggle away, but. therion kept trying to make himself smaller and smaller, and jiaoqiu doesn't want that. he just has to trust they'll get there.
he holds therion a little closer, and closes his eyes. ]
I have both. Your scarf and your switchblade. They're in my bag.
he looks up at jiaoqiu as he says that - not the first part, but the second.
him seeing red, that's not surprising in the context of the conversation. but, hearing that jiaoqiu retrieved those two items for him, even in the midst of the danger, in the midst of a situation where he was clearly about to snap, is... it's a lot. therion's had his switchblade for as long as he could remember, one of the only possessions in the entire world that he has. for a long time, it was really his only companion (by his own design, and he liked it that way), and though it was of course not the end of the world to have it stolen, considering, it... it's nice, to have it back.
and then there's the scarf. the scarf that jiaoqiu bought for him when they first arrived to sunshade - tucked it around his neck, chose it on purpose, asked him if the pattern would be alright for him, the length. the care and consideration taken, from the gesture to the actual gift itself, meant something, and he's taken very good care of it since he's gotten it, even if he never drew attention to it. never let it get messy. never let it get too destroyed.
in a normal situation, he'd laugh, make a shitty little comment, move on. but it's such a tiny, stupid gesture in the grand scheme of everything that it knocks him off of his feet, and he reaches up, slowly, with his good hand, and curls it in his clothes. ]
[ a beat, and his ear flicks - for whatever reason, he's not expecting that to be a thing that gets therion. he hears his name in that soft tone and shifts a little, glancing down at him. rests his hand on top of the one curling into his clothes. ]
Mm? [ there's a bit of worry to his tone. ] What?
[ do you need painkillers, are you fading - what's wrong, is the vibe. he doesn't even think about therion being touched by the gesture, because in his mind there was no other option. he was leaving that bar with those items in hand or he was going to get the shit beaten out of him trying. ]
[ well! a lot of emotions hit him violently all at once!
at first, he doesn't know what to do with it. it catches him off guard so badly that he chokes a bit, voice squeaking. it's so embarrassing that it shuts him up right off the bat, and he doesn't reply right away, just goes bright red and internally splutters. it's so silly, to get worked up this badly about it, and it's very much not how he pictured this happening - but then again, he didn't really picture it at all. he's not the kind of person that thinks about his future very often.
he's warm, all over. head to toe. there's a heat behind his eyes, and for a mortifying moment, he thinks he might actually cry? he doesn't, but it's like unlocking a closet that's been keeping a monsoon enclosed. he is awake. it's the most present he's been in years, all of his fur standing on end, every sound magnified. the wind is gently rattling the door, and his heart is thudding in his ears, and therion can - probably feel that, actually, with how close he's pressed to jiaoqiu, he can probably feel jiaoqiu's pulse go jackrabbit fast. silence, for a long, long moment, as he tries to pull himself together.
it doesn't happen. he can't figure out how to not make his voice steady when he answers, so he stops trying, and just - presses his lips to therion's forehead. swallows hard, and manages, quiet and shaky: ]
... I hope - I hope you know how much that means to me.
[ there's a thank you, in there. a thank you for saying it. he's getting swept away with the feeling, with something overwhelming and trembling, like shining a very bright light on his rusted, creaking heart. like it could break, overexposed, but won't. ]
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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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what a way to say it. the framing is different, and so is the context - instead of standing at the edge, ready to be pushed, jiaoqiu asks instead for him to jump. can he?
the first way to heal from having your trust destroyed is to learn to trust others again. it started with cordelia and heathcote - cordelia, who tossed his assumptions about her perfect little life right into his face, taught him a second lesson in humility. it grew from there, with people like primrose. but no one's ever made it this far. he's never invited someone with him, to leave. he's never considered what it meant to stay, until jiaoqiu. truthfully, when jiaoqiu suggested the idea of having therion live with him, it was the gravity of the realization that he might not hate it at all that sent him skittering, terrified of his own growth just as much as the intimacy of it all itself.
but he has learned, slowly, that jiaoqiu is trustworthy. he learned that when he came to his safehouse. when he treated his injuries with no questions, when therion knew he could come to jiaoqiu to be cared for. bit by tiny bit, he steps free of the shadows, reaches out into the hand being offered to him and presses to it, and the feeling of undeniable warmth that comes from it makes him want to dive further and run all at the same time. he's balanced between the two at a constant, and this little incident was the final straw. but he's right, that it's already too late to balk. therion doesn't get scared, and having that knowledge out there too makes his throat tight, stings his pride, and that feeling of shame that goes with it is hard to fight.
his head hurts. jiaoqiu's hand never touches where he was injured, cradling, and it gives him goosebumps, sends a chill gently slinking down his spine, and he lets that ground him, too, keeping his eyes closed and breathing in. it's shaky, in, and out, and the lump in his throat feels like it grows, grows, but he swallows hard around it and rumbles, as rough as sandpaper, through every layer of trauma, to reality: ]
...I trust you.
[ because he does. as terrifying as that is, it needs to be said. it could still bite him in the ass someday, but it feels further and further off, as time has gone on. he has come to associate jiaoqiu with safety, and though he once did the same with darius, his partner, maybe the second time is the charm.
he wants to say something - make a pithy comment, deny it, do something, but he doesn't. being able to say that he trusts jiaoqiu is a big step, but this conversation asks for more than that. he's asking therion not to run away from him, again, too, but he'll get to that in a second - therion has to choke down this level of vulnerability in pieces, or he'll panic, and he'll run away. he needs jiaoqiu to understand the gravity of what he just said in order to be able to continue. ]
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jiaoqiu understands the gravity. he knows how hard that was for therion to say, how he needed to dig deep and drag the words out kicking and screaming. how much therion has grown to even be able to get it out of him. he knows, because it's the same for him - maybe not to the same amount of impossibility, but. he knows what it's like to have words trapped in your throat.
so, soft, he takes therion's hand, and laces their fingers. kisses his cheek. ]
... Thank you. I'm glad that you do. [ and his tone is so very serious - gentle, but serious. he understands.
that much, even, soothes his own worries, just a little bit. he feels a little less like he's going to buzz out of his skin. therion says it out loud, and his shoulders ease, his - fucking fur stands up on end, a little shiver of something like relief or joy or a shaky mix of both making his tail jitter. he needed to hear it out loud, and he didn't realize how much.
there's more to talk about, but he's okay to take it slow. it's easier on the both of the, especially when therion is as injured as he is. so, he gives them both a moment, doesn't say anything else. just holds therion's hand, reassuring. ]
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his hand is still a little cold, but he lets jiaoqiu take it. he can't quite look at him, so the kiss to his cheek feels especially intimate, with his bad side buried into jiaoqiu's shoulder, and unwittingly his lashes flutter where they're closed, feeling his heart swell underneath everything, despite everything. despite how badly his heart was shattered all those years ago, it still beats.
he's feeling very overwhelmed. but jiaoqiu's reaction is positive, as far as he can tell, so. good. good. therion exhales out - shaky, still, a little tremor in his hand, and sags a little further into where jiaoqiu is holding him, tension releasing slowly, piece by piece.
and, quietly - still not quite ready to move on - he says: ] ...thank you.
[ for more than just the fact that he rescued him, but for everything. for the care. for the fact that he still showed up here, despite therion's awful edges, his harsh words, his tendency to flee from closeness, his inability to communicate, for loving him for some reason despite everything. and most of all, for being worth that trust, for proving consistently, over and over again, that the world isn't always full of people like darius, that maybe some people are worth being afraid, for.
he keeps his eyes firmly closed for now, tucked against his shoulder, and rides out that emotional wave, too, exhausted. ]
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he's a very patient person. jiaoqiu very rarely rushes in his daily life, and he sees no reason to do so now. he takes it easy, and is rewarded by therion relaxing bit by bit. maybe when he's less injured, he can offer to massage his shoulders, his back. it might do him some good.
when therion speaks, jiaoqiu's lips twitch at the corners. he tucks therion's head under his chin. ]
You don't need to. [ thank him, he means. but, because he recognizes the effort: ] You're welcome, regardless.
[ he lets the silence sit for a minute again. thinks, maybe he can add a little cushioning to this, because therion is so exhausted. so - his tail shifts under the covers, wriggling so that it can settle over therion's lap again. it's heavy, and it's warm. ]
... You know. [ he starts, mildly. ] The man who planned to turn you in for coin brought your scarf and your blade as proof. They were covered in blood. He dropped them on the counter, and had the bartender not intervened, I would have ripped his throat out with my teeth. I had the angle prepared in my head.
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god. he makes a little bit of a face when he says "you don't need to", fully ready to throw that away, but he accepts it, so it's silenced. he doesn't just give his thank yous out for no reason, and maybe he can shovel some self love into jiaoqiu's mouth one of these days like feeding a fussy baby. he's too tired to be cool about it, so he just huffs, allowing himself to be moved. that in and of itself is the ultimate sign of trust, the fact that he's burrowed here despite being wildly injured, safe enough to be not just treated, but to be held, too.
he closes his eyes again in that moment of silence, trying to return himself to some kind of normalcy, in as much as he can. violently out of whack in every way possible, it's not a - bad feeling, but it's strange, augmented by being injured. he feels like he needs to go for a lap, but he's too tired to even move.
as he's considering this, jiaoqiu starts talking again, and slowly, therion's eyes open. first of all, ugh, his stuff, but as he continues... there's a twitch to his mouth that might be a smile, there and you'll miss it. ] Yeah?
[ he knows jiaoqiu is vicious, knows enough about who he was in the past and has spent enough time with him in the present to know that he means it, but there's something funny about jiaoqiu in his fancy boy clothes ready to rip someone's throat out like a feral animal, especially when that someone is, likely, gareth. (and there's something a little soft, about knowing someone would go to those lengths for someone like you.) ]
You would've gotten your ass kicked. [ he says, finally, his voice a rumble of sound near jiaoqiu's chest - there's a hint of laughter to it, something a little less high strung. ] Would've been worth it, though.
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anyway, jiaoqiu knows how to get blood out of clothing, thankfully, but he's going to be thinking about the blood in the scarf he gave therion for about as long as he lives. the emotion that he had when he saw it was - a lot. grief, mostly, but an undefinable amount of violence, too, something that startled him a bit with the strength of it. ]
I saw red. [ he says, simply. he would've gotten his ass kicked, yeah, they would've wiped the floor with him. but at least he would've taken out the leader with him. sure, it's a little suicidal, but that's kind of his whole existence, so. he carries melancholy and a lingering, drifting sadness in his bones.
but - he hears that little laugh in therion's voice, and that's what he was aiming for. something to ease the tension. something to try and make a bridge. maybe he's making it harder for himself, here. maybe he's never going to coax an answer out of therion if he keeps helping him wriggle away, but. therion kept trying to make himself smaller and smaller, and jiaoqiu doesn't want that. he just has to trust they'll get there.
he holds therion a little closer, and closes his eyes. ]
I have both. Your scarf and your switchblade. They're in my bag.
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he looks up at jiaoqiu as he says that - not the first part, but the second.
him seeing red, that's not surprising in the context of the conversation. but, hearing that jiaoqiu retrieved those two items for him, even in the midst of the danger, in the midst of a situation where he was clearly about to snap, is... it's a lot. therion's had his switchblade for as long as he could remember, one of the only possessions in the entire world that he has. for a long time, it was really his only companion (by his own design, and he liked it that way), and though it was of course not the end of the world to have it stolen, considering, it... it's nice, to have it back.
and then there's the scarf. the scarf that jiaoqiu bought for him when they first arrived to sunshade - tucked it around his neck, chose it on purpose, asked him if the pattern would be alright for him, the length. the care and consideration taken, from the gesture to the actual gift itself, meant something, and he's taken very good care of it since he's gotten it, even if he never drew attention to it. never let it get messy. never let it get too destroyed.
in a normal situation, he'd laugh, make a shitty little comment, move on. but it's such a tiny, stupid gesture in the grand scheme of everything that it knocks him off of his feet, and he reaches up, slowly, with his good hand, and curls it in his clothes. ]
...Jiaoqiu.
[ therion says, soft. ]
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Mm? [ there's a bit of worry to his tone. ] What?
[ do you need painkillers, are you fading - what's wrong, is the vibe. he doesn't even think about therion being touched by the gesture, because in his mind there was no other option. he was leaving that bar with those items in hand or he was going to get the shit beaten out of him trying. ]
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... I love you, too.
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at first, he doesn't know what to do with it. it catches him off guard so badly that he chokes a bit, voice squeaking. it's so embarrassing that it shuts him up right off the bat, and he doesn't reply right away, just goes bright red and internally splutters. it's so silly, to get worked up this badly about it, and it's very much not how he pictured this happening - but then again, he didn't really picture it at all. he's not the kind of person that thinks about his future very often.
he's warm, all over. head to toe. there's a heat behind his eyes, and for a mortifying moment, he thinks he might actually cry? he doesn't, but it's like unlocking a closet that's been keeping a monsoon enclosed. he is awake. it's the most present he's been in years, all of his fur standing on end, every sound magnified. the wind is gently rattling the door, and his heart is thudding in his ears, and therion can - probably feel that, actually, with how close he's pressed to jiaoqiu, he can probably feel jiaoqiu's pulse go jackrabbit fast. silence, for a long, long moment, as he tries to pull himself together.
it doesn't happen. he can't figure out how to not make his voice steady when he answers, so he stops trying, and just - presses his lips to therion's forehead. swallows hard, and manages, quiet and shaky: ]
... I hope - I hope you know how much that means to me.
[ there's a thank you, in there. a thank you for saying it. he's getting swept away with the feeling, with something overwhelming and trembling, like shining a very bright light on his rusted, creaking heart. like it could break, overexposed, but won't. ]
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