[Although Xue Yang tenses, there is no attempt at self-defence. His eyes are wide and focused on Xingchen's face, he lets out a breathless chuckle while he still can. It's not as if he wishes for death the way Xingchen does, but he's not fighting for life either, not when he gets to feel Xingchen's hands around his neck, not when he gets to see so much emotion on Xingchen's face.
He's only starting to feel faint when Xingchen releases him so suddenly and he ends up coughing, naturally, doubling over for the moment. Still, he stands back up quickly, pushing the hair back from his face and focusing entirely on Xingchen. His eyes are narrowed as he tries to understand, but he doesn't quite. His voice is a little uncertain when he speaks, perhaps concerned. Sounding younger than he is.]
[The coughing is so loud in his ears. Xingchen pushes himself away, clawing at Xue Yang's arms if he has to. He has to get away, at least from that immediate embrace, get away from what he's done and what he's failed to do.
How low he's sunk. How weak he's become. Xiao Xingchen, once the bright counterpart to the distant but noble Song Lan, respected and trusted, now unable to choke out the life from one single monster right in front of him. Xiao Xingchen, once so good and full of promise, now reduced to getting his hands bloody for nothing.
Did he ever have a chance? Was his fate always predestined to end in ruin? With every day and every action he takes, Xingchen thinks Baoshan Sanren was more and more right. Right about the world. Right about anyone who left her sanctuary. Xingchen just wanted to save people. Now, as he stumbles back a few paces, hands shaking and a familiar voice haunting him, it seems he can't even save himself.]
[His eyes hone in on Xingchen's shaking hands, his stance, the look on his face. He holds his own hands up, not that Xingchen can see, a gesture that might mean much of anything, but obviously means nothing until he says something.
He's not sure how to word it, that unfamiliar feeling as if his heart is dropping, the way his stomach clenches, how he feels hot and cold at the same time. He's felt fear before, but only very few times in his life and not enough to easily identify it. But he acts on instinct instead of rationale, as always, so luckily awareness isn't needed for him to do something. Say something.]
It's done, daozhang. I'm not doing anything else.
[His voice is, if possible, almost gentle. An attempt at reassurance.]
[He whispers the question, not really expecting an answer. What answer would he want to hear? The options, half-formed in his mind, frighten him, disgust him. Either he's not as strong as everyone thought he was or the goodness still left inside him is still willing to give someone so vile yet another chance. Xingchen gives too many chances. They keep coming back to hurt him and he never learns.
Why?
Why?!
Xingchen stumbles until his back hits the other wall of this alleyway. Another sob wracks him and his hands can't stop shaking, even as he covers his face with them. In the back of his mind, he knows if he can't control himself, he'll start to bleed against the blindfold. He knows, but that doesn't seem very important right now.]
[The way he stumbles, the faint hint of red on his blindfold, that expression and the sobs, it's setting Xue Yang on edge. Almost as if he can see the cut on Xingchen's throat and he feels helpless. What does he do?
He has to stop that despair. He doesn't want that again. He wants Xingchen living, breathing, warm, even if only the corpse would ever willingly let him near.
So what can he do? Is there anything to say?]
Don't worry about that, daozhang. I'm dead already.
[It takes some time to catch his breath and get a hold of himself. By the time he does, Xingchen can feel some blood tracking down his cheek. Which means there must be some blood on his hands at least, and definitely stains on the cloth now.
He barely hears Xue Yang speak again, but it does register eventually. It doesn't make sense. He can't mean it literally, but if it's a metaphor, he can't really understand why he feels that way, either. Instead, he allows himself to slide down to the ground.]
[Simple words, a simple statement, and the sentiment behind it lost for so many reasons, because he knows that it's not something Xingchen wants to be true. He knows that Xingchen doesn't know of years spent yearning, of cold nights by a coffin, and he also knows that if he did know, it would horrify rather than please him.
No less true, but useless words anyway.
Stepping forward, he crouches down in front of Xingchen and looks at him, feels his chest hurting and wonders what there is to do about it. He's not used to pain he can't ignore.]
I'm going now.
[That said he reaches into a pocket and gets a single piece of candy, which he puts down in front of Xingchen. After a moment, he thinks better of it and gives it a nudge, so it lightly touches Xingchen's knee. So he can't just ignore it.
Then he gets up, stares at him, holds his breath and leaves.]
[This is exhausting. Every moment dedicated to even thinking about Xue Yang leaves Xingchen drained. He can't spend a second in the other man's presence without wanting to take hours to recover his mental fortitude.
So, for now, he lets his bloodied hands fall into his lap as he just...leans against the wall. Even the little nudge against his knee gets no reaction. He sits and he breathes and he bleeds and finally, finally Xue Yang leaves him.]
...I wish you'd forget me.
[A whisper, one he knows Xue Yang won't here, whatever that means. After some time, he pats around for whatever Xue Yang left behind. Upon finding it, he feels the small thing, listens to the slightly crinkly wrapping, and his shoulders drop.
Candy.
He's sick of candy.
Xingchen continues to feel the shape of the little treat with no intention of actually eating it. And yet, instead of throwing it back to the ground, he slowly tucks it away inside his robes before pushing himself to his feet. It's time to...go back to helping where he can. He hopes he won't run into Xue Yang again.]
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no subject
He's only starting to feel faint when Xingchen releases him so suddenly and he ends up coughing, naturally, doubling over for the moment. Still, he stands back up quickly, pushing the hair back from his face and focusing entirely on Xingchen. His eyes are narrowed as he tries to understand, but he doesn't quite. His voice is a little uncertain when he speaks, perhaps concerned. Sounding younger than he is.]
Daozhang?
no subject
How low he's sunk. How weak he's become. Xiao Xingchen, once the bright counterpart to the distant but noble Song Lan, respected and trusted, now unable to choke out the life from one single monster right in front of him. Xiao Xingchen, once so good and full of promise, now reduced to getting his hands bloody for nothing.
Did he ever have a chance? Was his fate always predestined to end in ruin? With every day and every action he takes, Xingchen thinks Baoshan Sanren was more and more right. Right about the world. Right about anyone who left her sanctuary. Xingchen just wanted to save people. Now, as he stumbles back a few paces, hands shaking and a familiar voice haunting him, it seems he can't even save himself.]
Stop. Don't.
no subject
He's not sure how to word it, that unfamiliar feeling as if his heart is dropping, the way his stomach clenches, how he feels hot and cold at the same time. He's felt fear before, but only very few times in his life and not enough to easily identify it. But he acts on instinct instead of rationale, as always, so luckily awareness isn't needed for him to do something. Say something.]
It's done, daozhang. I'm not doing anything else.
[His voice is, if possible, almost gentle. An attempt at reassurance.]
no subject
[He whispers the question, not really expecting an answer. What answer would he want to hear? The options, half-formed in his mind, frighten him, disgust him. Either he's not as strong as everyone thought he was or the goodness still left inside him is still willing to give someone so vile yet another chance. Xingchen gives too many chances. They keep coming back to hurt him and he never learns.
Why?
Why?!
Xingchen stumbles until his back hits the other wall of this alleyway. Another sob wracks him and his hands can't stop shaking, even as he covers his face with them. In the back of his mind, he knows if he can't control himself, he'll start to bleed against the blindfold. He knows, but that doesn't seem very important right now.]
no subject
He has to stop that despair. He doesn't want that again. He wants Xingchen living, breathing, warm, even if only the corpse would ever willingly let him near.
So what can he do? Is there anything to say?]
Don't worry about that, daozhang. I'm dead already.
no subject
He barely hears Xue Yang speak again, but it does register eventually. It doesn't make sense. He can't mean it literally, but if it's a metaphor, he can't really understand why he feels that way, either. Instead, he allows himself to slide down to the ground.]
Yet you still haunt me.
no subject
[Simple words, a simple statement, and the sentiment behind it lost for so many reasons, because he knows that it's not something Xingchen wants to be true. He knows that Xingchen doesn't know of years spent yearning, of cold nights by a coffin, and he also knows that if he did know, it would horrify rather than please him.
No less true, but useless words anyway.
Stepping forward, he crouches down in front of Xingchen and looks at him, feels his chest hurting and wonders what there is to do about it. He's not used to pain he can't ignore.]
I'm going now.
[That said he reaches into a pocket and gets a single piece of candy, which he puts down in front of Xingchen. After a moment, he thinks better of it and gives it a nudge, so it lightly touches Xingchen's knee. So he can't just ignore it.
Then he gets up, stares at him, holds his breath and leaves.]
no subject
So, for now, he lets his bloodied hands fall into his lap as he just...leans against the wall. Even the little nudge against his knee gets no reaction. He sits and he breathes and he bleeds and finally, finally Xue Yang leaves him.]
...I wish you'd forget me.
[A whisper, one he knows Xue Yang won't here, whatever that means. After some time, he pats around for whatever Xue Yang left behind. Upon finding it, he feels the small thing, listens to the slightly crinkly wrapping, and his shoulders drop.
Candy.
He's sick of candy.
Xingchen continues to feel the shape of the little treat with no intention of actually eating it. And yet, instead of throwing it back to the ground, he slowly tucks it away inside his robes before pushing himself to his feet. It's time to...go back to helping where he can. He hopes he won't run into Xue Yang again.]