he's fairly easily to manipulate, in this state. fei du usually resists being touched, but there's something about the softness of it that's different, because a touch that's tender is one that's almost unfamiliar. the reaction to being cared for is most equivalent to that of an abused dog in a shelter cage that finally feels a kind hand for the first time; he seems surprised by it, like he's never really known tenderness in his life. and truthfully, outside of luo wenzhou, he hasn't.
he goes, when he's tugged in, almost woodenly, stunned into silence by the words and the heavy weight of it all. there's no motion to hug him back, but he doesn't pull away - he just trembles in his arms, holding perfectly still while d talks, thoughts untenable and wild.
to be called out like that would make him so hesitant in any other moment - he'd be skittish and running to know that someone could see through him so easily, to know that he's been afraid his entire life, afraid of his father, afraid of himself. but right now, the words just sink into the sludge of his ruined emotions, the affirmations wrapping around his rotten heart and squeezing. can he forgive himself? will he? his mother's death - he could have done something, he could have said something, if he wasn't so afraid. and now, luo wenzhou, where he tried to give everything he had and once again, it was in total vain.
...after a long, long moment, when he wraps up, fei du finally drops his forehead down to d's shoulder. sorry about your nice clothes they're gonna get wet. and with that, he lets out a shuddery, miserable exhale. it's a breath and it's a sob, a noise totally unfamiliar to him, and he just stands there and cries, like a dam has just broken in half. he's allowing this in a way he never allows anything, and that has to be more confirmation that the words mean something than anything fei du could possibly say in response.
I'm sorry. his thoughts echo, over the messy nightmare of everything, the layered violin music, the sorrow, the guilt, the despair, the spiraling. i'm sorry. ]
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he's fairly easily to manipulate, in this state. fei du usually resists being touched, but there's something about the softness of it that's different, because a touch that's tender is one that's almost unfamiliar. the reaction to being cared for is most equivalent to that of an abused dog in a shelter cage that finally feels a kind hand for the first time; he seems surprised by it, like he's never really known tenderness in his life. and truthfully, outside of luo wenzhou, he hasn't.
he goes, when he's tugged in, almost woodenly, stunned into silence by the words and the heavy weight of it all. there's no motion to hug him back, but he doesn't pull away - he just trembles in his arms, holding perfectly still while d talks, thoughts untenable and wild.
to be called out like that would make him so hesitant in any other moment - he'd be skittish and running to know that someone could see through him so easily, to know that he's been afraid his entire life, afraid of his father, afraid of himself. but right now, the words just sink into the sludge of his ruined emotions, the affirmations wrapping around his rotten heart and squeezing. can he forgive himself? will he? his mother's death - he could have done something, he could have said something, if he wasn't so afraid. and now, luo wenzhou, where he tried to give everything he had and once again, it was in total vain.
...after a long, long moment, when he wraps up, fei du finally drops his forehead down to d's shoulder. sorry about your nice clothes they're gonna get wet. and with that, he lets out a shuddery, miserable exhale. it's a breath and it's a sob, a noise totally unfamiliar to him, and he just stands there and cries, like a dam has just broken in half. he's allowing this in a way he never allows anything, and that has to be more confirmation that the words mean something than anything fei du could possibly say in response.
I'm sorry. his thoughts echo, over the messy nightmare of everything, the layered violin music, the sorrow, the guilt, the despair, the spiraling. i'm sorry. ]