lonelydream | INBOX (for eastbound)

[ The potion he'd taken burned through him, like fire tracing the meridians that can no longer handle that much energy. Pain is nothing new to Zhou Zishu, but this was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He doesn't remember much after downing the potion--brief glimpses of Lao Wen's frantic face, some impression of Wen Kexing's arms, before he's again and again dragged down into unconsciousness.

He dreams of the past--of his master, of Jiuxiao, that silly boy, of those eighty brothers he'd lead to their deaths and of parents he barely remembers. Of Beiyuan and Wuxi and the younger Helian Yi, of the cousin he'd once loved and believed in.

He dreams of Chengling, the silly little crybaby growing stronger by the day. Of fiery Gu Xiang and smitten Cao Weining. Of Ye Baiyi and his odd, gruff way of caring.

Most of all, he dreams of Wen Kexing. He dreams of Wen Kexing's quicksilver hands, the curve of his cheek, and the child-like delight in his eyes. He dreams of wicked grins and elegant fingers, of his violence and his strength and the way he reaches for Zishu again and again. Of his scent and his tears and his laugh. Of the peace in his face as he fell to his death. Of the triumph in each controlled flick of his wrist as he cut Zhao Jing down.

He dreams and dreams, and doesn't dream at all until he's waking to soft murmurs. Zhou Zishu slants his gaze to his side, brows furrowing briefly as his blurry vision slowly focuses in the dim light of the room. ]

( He notices. It would be impossible to not, considering how closely he has spent the night watching Zhou Zishu for signs of a relapse. The hovering twitch between sleep and wakefulness is as sharp as a drawn blade considering how long he'd lain there unmoving, the only sign of life the slight rise and fall of his chest and the fluttering pulse under Wen Kexing's fingers. The hand still buried in the other man's hair stills and then untangles itself, deft fingers moving to cup a cheek. He doesn't realise he's been holding his breath until it leaves him all in a rush, ducking a little closer. )

Ah-Xu?

( There is a fine tremble to his voice, an anxiety he can't quite smother out, but he doesn't think he can be blamed for that. He waits, watching as Zhou Zishu blinks, the haziness in his eyes mostly due to sleep, though Wen Kexing is poised like he might bolt from the room to look for aid if the cause is anything else. )

Are you okay? Are you with me?

Lao Wen.

[ He says it--or tries to, his throat dry. He swallows, grimaces. ]

Water. [ A pause, and then hopefully: ] Wine?

Water.

( His sternness only proves quite so, the relief curbing the edges of it. He reaches out to find a nearby cup, a jug, pouring the water into it and then pausing to Zhou Zishu sit upright, a hand between his shoulder blades. )

How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Do you need anything?

( All asked while he's bringing the cup obediently to a mouth, he might still be freaking out. )

[ He leans heavily against Wen Kexing, depending entirely on him to stay upright. His limbs don't cooperate, his eyelids are heavy, and he feels as though he's been scraped raw as he sips slowly at the water. ]

I'm fine.

( He feels so light, Wen Kexing tries not to let that fact sink in, making sure Zhou Zishu has his fill of the water before he places the cup back down. Then he's lifting a hand, using his sleeve to dab at the corner of his mouth. )

You'd say you were fine if you were on fire, Ah-Xu.

( Pot, kettle. )

Do you need anything else? More water?

No. No, just. Just like this.

[ He exhales, closing his eyes for a moment and feeling for his internal power. It trickles through him, slow and stuttering, but it doesn't stop, doesn't tangle into gnarls, doesn't burn with the feeling of qi falling into an abyss when he tries to channel it. Blindly, he reaches out, turning his palm so he can rest his wrist on Wen Kexing's thigh. It's an open, silent offer to feel--though he has no doubt Lao Wen's had his fingers on his pulse the whole time he was unconscious. ]

( Obedient, his fingers slip back into place. It isn't perfect, and if Zhou Zishu had been anywhere else but on death's door the fragile feeling of those meridians would have him blind with panic. As it is, that weakness is a miracle. His own qi joins, slower than he'd usually like to offer but he doesn't want to go at this with brute force. Instead it is a careful progress. )

I thought -.

( A swallow, the click of his dry tongue. )

You're a stubborn bastard.

( Which is, above all things, a compliment. Anyone else might not have made it. ) You're sure you don't feel worse? Do you need me to fetch Hermoine again? Or someone like Anduin?

[ He sits up properly, then, taking a deep breath as he rests his other hand lightly on his knee, drawing both legs up under him so he can start channeling the qi Wen Kexing passes him through his veins. It's a slow, careful process, his meridians feeling as though they've been scraped raw. They're new, after all, sensitive. ]

This is fine. I'm fine, Lao Wen. Better than fine.

[ That's a bit of a lie. He won't be truly fine for a long while, but he's also better than he's been in...a long while. His voice is still thin and reedy, barely a whisper as he focuses. ]

( The bubble of hysterical anxiety that sits in his throat threatens to burst, Wen Kexing has to swallow it down once, twice, his gaze not leaving Zhou Zishu. The other man's robes have come a little loose in his sleep, disordered, his hair unruly, Wen Kexing lifts a hand to smooth his fingers through it, gentle so as to avoid snagging. )

You'll do what I tell you, fine or not. You'll eat, and you'll avoid wine, and you'll rest, do you hear me?

( Nagging, but there's a very real level of fear beneath it, his hand moving to cup Zhou Zishu by the cheek, the hollow of it. )

This is a gift we're not squandering, you're going to behave.

[ He smiles, a small, faint quirk of his lips. ]

Yes, Lao Wen. But perhaps you'll be lenient on the wine ban?

[ Wen Kexing's fingers draw through his hair, catching on the occasional snarls, and oh, he must have been sleeping for a long time. ]

How long was I out?

Lenient.

( He raises an eyebrow. ) Maybe you'll be allowed to drink again before the first white hairs appear, but I wouldn't bank on it. You think we've put all this work in only to have you drink yourself stupid? Pah!

( He might let him sometime soon, though certainly not for a few days and absolutely in moderation but that is because Wen Kexing is a soft touch. )

A day, a night. I think it might be the evening.

( He hasn't left, so he doesn't know. Still, he makes his voice light, cheerful. ) So lazy. Maybe you just like me pining away at your bedside like you're some romantic hero and I'm the earnest village virgin but that is absolutely not the case and it won't be happening again.

[ He slants a look over at Wen Kexing, eyebrows lifting. It's a pretty clear indication of what he thinks about that statement, even without a word. ]

I'll take it into consideration.

[ He says instead, though he turns his wrist so he can grasp Wen Kexing's hand in his own, heedless of how it breaks their connection. It's better this way, anyway; Wen Kexing shouldn't be funneling all of his qi into Zhou Zishu, not when he's no doubt exhausted as well. ]

Lao Wen. I'm really fine. It'll take soem time, but I'm okay.

Okay.

( He sounds a little like he doesn't believe it, voice tentative, dark eyes watching Zhou Zishu as they wind their fingers together. He shakes it off quickly enough, blinking away the doubt, smile creeping to the corner of his mouth. )

I'll make you a deal. The minute you're well enough to fight me you can have all the wine you want, mm?

( Grin inching higher again. )

Now move over. I'm going to get a crick in my back and have to hobble around this castle like an old woman soon.

Shouldn't you be accommodating me? I'm the invalid.

[ He's shifting out of position, though, scooting sideways to give Wen Kexing more room beside him in bed. He moves slowly, tentatively, more like the old woman Wen Kexing just threatened to become than one of the sleekest fighters of the jianghu. ]

( Wen Kexing waits until Zhou Zishu is firmly settled, once more hovering at his side in case of emergency. Once he's satisfied his presence won't be more of a hindrance he's scooting himself under the covers. )

And I've been sitting at your bedside for ages, Ah-Xu.

( They both know he'd do it for longer if needed, which is why Wen Kexing feels bold enough to curl on his side, slinging an arm around Zhou Zishu's narrow-feeling waist. )

I at least waited until you were awake enough to let me, I'm not entirely a creep.

[ He's tired and his guard is down, and Wen Kexing is warm. Zhou Zishu yawns, tucks himself closer in. ]

You're always welcome.

( He's so very dear, Wen Kexing feels the way his heart stutters upon looking at Zhou Zishu, as though the thing itself wanted to break it's way free from the cage of it's ribs. As though it wanted to come home, to the man before him. Unbidden he ducks closer, presses dry lips to the other man's forehead, sweet, before they find his eyelid and repeat the process, careful, light, longing wedged inside his throat.

When he speaks his voice is softer. )

Am I? ( A beat, and then, the words gusting over Zhou Zishu's cheek. ) If this hadn't have worked, I would have followed you. Zhou Zishu, do you know what you mean to me?

[ He sighs softly, swallows, his throat clicking. ]

I saw you die, once, pushed off a cliff. I tried to follow you down.

[ Ye Baiyi saved him, then, but he's never forgotten the look of peace on Wen Kexing's face as he was swallowed by the clouds. The sight of his body (what Zhou Zishu thought was his body) swallowed by flames. ]

Neither of us can then. Or if it has to happen then we'll have to agree to go together.

( He presses his forehead to Zhou Zishu's where the other man's is tacky from sweat and his healing body. He probably doesn't feel very good. Wen Kexing should offer to bathe him, will later, once the fear settles and his need to be productive takes full reign. For now he merely wants to linger, feel that closeness. )

Ah-Xu, I really -.

( A hand, cupping Zhou Zishu's cheek, thumb against the pale bow of his lip. )

I really do.

( Nonsensical as always, but then he's tipping closer, eyes open as he presses their mouths together. The kiss is quick, butterfly light, not at all like his salacious imaginings. He seems surprised himself by it, a flicker of it in the shadow of his eyes, pulling away scant inches. And then, quietly. ) I'm not drunk this time.

[ His eyes flicker in his surprise, and then lower, a soft exhale. He doesn't let himself think about the way his breath must be sour, the tangles in his hair or the way his robes bunch and stick to his skin, salt in the creases of his joints from how he'd apparently had a fever earlier. ]

No.

[ It's quiet, soft. An affirmation, an agreement, and an invitation. Zhou Zishu is surprised, but only just. If he's true to himself, he's been waiting for this since their time spent at the Manor. Since Zhou Zishu stood between the Sword Saint Immortal and his zhiji, and since Wen Kexing flew in between them nonetheless. Since Wen Kexing flew in, a whirling demon in red, protective fury radiating off of him. Since Zishu saw Wen Kexing fall backwards off the cliff and dove after him. Together in life, and together in death, he promised. Since he reappeared at the conference and claimed his birthright in front of all those self-righteous jianghu sects.

He's been waiting, it seems, and he's still surprised. Zishu raises a trembling hand, brushes his fingertips over Lao Wen's beloved face, and then gently coaxes him back in. ]

You're not drunk this time.

( The second kiss is just as sweet, the earnest press of mouths against each other. Wen Kexing makes it deeper, more firm, caring very little for the taste of his breath or the smell of a sickbed, the facts of them barely flickering across his consciousness. He's all caught up in the joy of it instead, the fact that he is kissed back, that there is a hand on his own face, that it means something. The fact that he -. )

I love you.

( Ah, there it is. It pulls it's way from him with it's own bloodied hands, the shape of his devotion. The words themselves feel clumsy, fumbled against Zhou Zishu's mouth, and so he squeezes his eyes shut but does not pull further back from the man beside him, inhaling once, quick and shuddering. )

I -. ( Stumbling, ridiculous. ) I would do whatever you asked of me, Ah-Xu. I'd pull my heart from behind my ribs and give it to you, if that's what you wanted. I love you, and I didn't think I knew how to do that. If anyone ever hurt you I'd tear their skin from their bones with my teeth, do you -. I want -.

( A pause, eyelids flickering open again, a sigh. )

I love you.

[ Oh. It takes his breath away, and he stares at Wen Kexing, wide-eyed. Things like that, it's simply not said. Felt, but not said, and Zhou Zishu presses their foreheads together, breathes in time. ]

I rather like your heart where it is. Keep it in your chest, beating strong for the both of us.

Okay.

( Simple, as if his voice isn't ringing with the impact of his feelings. )

It's yours anyhow, you can do with it what you like.

( And then, softer still. ) It's all right, isn't it? That I -. That it's you.

Yes. I-- Surely you know how I feel, Lao Wen. You must, don't you?

[ He's much less skilled with words, can't quite bring himself to say things so clearly. ]

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