it's a full body flinch, almost violent as he jerks backwards half a step, hand clutching tight in the fabric of his shirt. coming up close, d can see that fei du is shaking like a leaf, trembling so hard it looks like his teeth are rattling in his mouth.
I don't want to die.
The thought comes across forceful, for the first time - cutting through the static, faster than the words could come out of his mouth. he doesn't feel like his tongue works, like anything works. it feels like the entirety of his world is crumbling down.
it feels like anger. it feels like horror, and anger, this violent, awful swirl of all the bad things fei du could be in his stomach so painful he wants to throw up. ]
All of the hard firmness in D relaxes, softens. He lowers his hands only slightly, but he doesn’t press forward when Fei Du steps back.
More gently:] It’s alright, Mr. Fei. [Without reaching out, he keeps his hands apart and beckons Fei Du slightly. Come.]
You won’t die. And I’m not hurt. And you haven’t hurt anyone else this whole time. Right? If you want to greet Mr. Luo with the rest of us, you must not be this way to yourself.
[ d's really the first one to make the connection - fei du's more worried about his reaction than he is hurting himself. he's warring with himself, viciously, in that he needs to feel, needs to make sure this loss hits him as hard and brutally as it is, needs to repress back his own violence. he wants to find the person who did this himself and flay them alive, wants to hang them in the middle of japanifornia like a reminder, to anyone who would even think they could harm luo wenzhou, but he can't think like that.
he doesn't come when he's beckoned, but he doesn't back away any further, either. this is an improvement? the electricity off of his hands finally fades, too, crackling out into static and then nothing. he's starting to exhaust himself from trying.
greet him with the rest of us, d says. it makes the inside of his throat close up. ]
It wasn't - [ despite the force of his thoughts, his voice is trembling almost as hard as he is, and he's reaching for the sharp edge of his fury, but it's not quite there. he's, for the first clear and obvious time for anyone to see, a fucking wreck. ] - it wasn't supposed to be like this.
None of it was supposed to be like this because none of us were meant to be here having not actually died. The game was rigged from the beginning.
Just like your father did to you. But you are the one who told me we don’t have to be that way.
[He beckons again lightly.]
You won’t hurt me. I trust that about you, or I would not have come into this room. Do not fear yourself. If anything, perhaps you should be afraid of me instead. I killed an innocent young man.
You aren’t wrong for being angry, but you don’t have to worry about Mr. Luo. Don’t forget they are doing what they can there to help all of us. I know you wanted Mr. Luo to live with the others, but you and I both know he understands. He may have even chosen this because there are so many children left, we can’t say yet.
[ there's still no movement, at least, not at first. he's like a marionette with its strings cut at the moment, dissociated out of his body, some part of him hoping almost desperately that this is just a fucked up dream like he has all the time, that he'll wake up in twenty minutes and run to the window of his hotel room and look out at the screens and see wenzhou, tired and smoking like a chimney, but holding up the emotional support of everyone around him, instead.
you don't understand, his thoughts start, like a broken record, a car trying to start, broken and staticked and wrong and angry, violent, angry, but he manages to continue, out loud: ] I - when I died, I - he was supposed to, the ones who are winning had to protect him, that was part of why.
[ that was part of why i went quietly, he can't finish.
the words come, finally, in a torrent. he wasn't supposed to die. the idea of him being kind makes him want to protest, too, emotions like a tidal wave of despair and anger, misdirected and grieving. they didn't even find him he has to be the one that's in pieces why would he agree to do that who would do that to him i'll do it to them in return no no no -
fei du has to cut the thought off, has to try and grab for an ounce of his normally precious, fine tuned self control, a drowning man in an ocean. and though he doesn't approach d, he finally looks at him.
... and he's crying.
fei du doesn't cry. he's not even really sure he can. in a moment outside of this, somewhere, wildly, he's looking at it like he's outside of his body in a sort of hysteric amazement and surprise - but there are tears running down his cheeks. ]
We will see what happens, and if we don’t, Mr. Luo can explain when he arrives.
[He waits for a long moment still, and then he very carefully steps toward Fei Du, unafraid, since Fei Du won’t—can’t—come to him.
He lifts a hand up to see if Fei Du will allow him to touch his face. Carefully!]
See? You have it. Humanity. This is what it means to be human, Fei Du. All of it. To be angry, to be violent, to also hurt, to cry, to grieve when there is loss because there is no grief at all if there isn’t love. People who don’t love don’t grieve.
fei du has always considered himself something of a monster. he's spent most of his life trying to overcome the nature that was bred into him, the forcefed cruelty reinforced by fear, by his father's actions and ministrations. for as much as he's learned to analyze and identify every point of action in his brain, every thought, every emotion, they're still foreign to him, and this is no different. in so many ways, he is still the fifteen year old who found his mother's corpse; he is still the adult who sometimes lives in a home like a mausoleum, every piece of furniture still exactly the same it was the day she died.
so to be told he's human because he's grieving is almost shocking.
d is allowed to come close to him. he's allowed to touch him, even. up this close, when he touches him, he'll find that fei du almost flinches at the touch, and maybe more so, he is trembling, and violently, shaking like a leaf. his mouth opens, closes. ]
I -
[ I don't want it. at first, but that's not true. of course he does. he wants it more than anything. the tears keep coming, like they've been held back for years, because they have been. slowly, the static in his brain starts to fizzle.
fei du shudders. like this, he's not the sometimes silly, playful, social president fei, or even the sometimes scary sociopathic ceo who talks about strangulation and murder like he enjoys it, who claims to love pain and acts like a sadist, who tries to turn people against him because he knows he makes a good villain. no. fei du is a terrified, miserable child who puts claw marks in everything he's ever loved because he's so desperately afraid it's going to leave him again.
he tilts his head forward. just slightly. just enough to press into the touch, and doesn't move. ]
He did want to emphasize Fei Du isn’t a monster; however, there was no need for him to even bother mentioning the word right now. He isn’t going to give Fei Du inward ammunition to which he can cling.
Gently, he brushes his fingers over Fei Du’s cheek, wiping the wetness away even if it’s only momentary. Then he lifts his arms and embraces Fei Du’s shoulders, drawing him to himself. Hugging him lightly—in case Fei Du may want to pull away.]
Someone terrible has hurt you for a long time, Mr. Fei. Even without that in the way, it is hardest of all to love yourself when you are human. I have seen it many times. Again and again. The worst humans have to give.
But humans can change. I have seen that, too, as loathe as I am to admit.
You don’t have to be afraid of President Fei Du anymore. The only Fei Du that exists is the Fei Du I’m holding right now, the one mourning Mr. Luo. And he would never hurt any human or animal because he knows the value of human life. He always has, or he would have never tried to hurt himself as a reminder.
I want you to forgive yourself, Mr. Fei. And I want you to trust more in yourself now so you can find better ways to help when you feel out of control.
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. ]
[Since denying the apology would probably feel worse than simply accepting an unnecessary one.
He rests one hand on the back of Fei Du's head and keeps the other arm around Fei Du's shoulders, patting the back of one rhythmically. He doesn't mind holding Fei Du while the man gets it all out. In fact, he thinks he probably should have held Chris more often too rather than keep him and Leon at arm's length.
That is simply the price of duty.]
When we go back, [Not if because If is such a terribly fragile thing to say right now.] when your father is gone, I want you to leave that place. All of it. I want you and Mr. Luo to start your own lives together somewhere, something new, with the handsome and magnificent Master Yiguo. I want you to never look back again.
If you let the past keep its fingers in you then you will never be able to move forward into the future. Trust me... on that at least.
[As someone bound to the past, as someone shackled to remember the vengeance sprouted there, he knows.]
You can do that. I believe in you. You deserve to heal.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
it's a full body flinch, almost violent as he jerks backwards half a step, hand clutching tight in the fabric of his shirt. coming up close, d can see that fei du is shaking like a leaf, trembling so hard it looks like his teeth are rattling in his mouth.
I don't want to die.
The thought comes across forceful, for the first time - cutting through the static, faster than the words could come out of his mouth. he doesn't feel like his tongue works, like anything works. it feels like the entirety of his world is crumbling down.
it feels like anger. it feels like horror, and anger, this violent, awful swirl of all the bad things fei du could be in his stomach so painful he wants to throw up. ]
no subject
All of the hard firmness in D relaxes, softens. He lowers his hands only slightly, but he doesn’t press forward when Fei Du steps back.
More gently:] It’s alright, Mr. Fei. [Without reaching out, he keeps his hands apart and beckons Fei Du slightly. Come.]
You won’t die. And I’m not hurt. And you haven’t hurt anyone else this whole time. Right? If you want to greet Mr. Luo with the rest of us, you must not be this way to yourself.
no subject
he doesn't come when he's beckoned, but he doesn't back away any further, either. this is an improvement? the electricity off of his hands finally fades, too, crackling out into static and then nothing. he's starting to exhaust himself from trying.
greet him with the rest of us, d says. it makes the inside of his throat close up. ]
It wasn't - [ despite the force of his thoughts, his voice is trembling almost as hard as he is, and he's reaching for the sharp edge of his fury, but it's not quite there. he's, for the first clear and obvious time for anyone to see, a fucking wreck. ] - it wasn't supposed to be like this.
no subject
Just like your father did to you. But you are the one who told me we don’t have to be that way.
[He beckons again lightly.]
You won’t hurt me. I trust that about you, or I would not have come into this room. Do not fear yourself. If anything, perhaps you should be afraid of me instead. I killed an innocent young man.
You aren’t wrong for being angry, but you don’t have to worry about Mr. Luo. Don’t forget they are doing what they can there to help all of us. I know you wanted Mr. Luo to live with the others, but you and I both know he understands. He may have even chosen this because there are so many children left, we can’t say yet.
Isn’t that typical of him? To be foolishly kind.
no subject
you don't understand, his thoughts start, like a broken record, a car trying to start, broken and staticked and wrong and angry, violent, angry, but he manages to continue, out loud: ] I - when I died, I - he was supposed to, the ones who are winning had to protect him, that was part of why.
[ that was part of why i went quietly, he can't finish.
the words come, finally, in a torrent. he wasn't supposed to die. the idea of him being kind makes him want to protest, too, emotions like a tidal wave of despair and anger, misdirected and grieving. they didn't even find him he has to be the one that's in pieces why would he agree to do that who would do that to him i'll do it to them in return no no no -
fei du has to cut the thought off, has to try and grab for an ounce of his normally precious, fine tuned self control, a drowning man in an ocean. and though he doesn't approach d, he finally looks at him.
... and he's crying.
fei du doesn't cry. he's not even really sure he can. in a moment outside of this, somewhere, wildly, he's looking at it like he's outside of his body in a sort of hysteric amazement and surprise - but there are tears running down his cheeks. ]
no subject
[He waits for a long moment still, and then he very carefully steps toward Fei Du, unafraid, since Fei Du won’t—can’t—come to him.
He lifts a hand up to see if Fei Du will allow him to touch his face. Carefully!]
See? You have it. Humanity. This is what it means to be human, Fei Du. All of it. To be angry, to be violent, to also hurt, to cry, to grieve when there is loss because there is no grief at all if there isn’t love. People who don’t love don’t grieve.
You are human.
no subject
fei du has always considered himself something of a monster. he's spent most of his life trying to overcome the nature that was bred into him, the forcefed cruelty reinforced by fear, by his father's actions and ministrations. for as much as he's learned to analyze and identify every point of action in his brain, every thought, every emotion, they're still foreign to him, and this is no different. in so many ways, he is still the fifteen year old who found his mother's corpse; he is still the adult who sometimes lives in a home like a mausoleum, every piece of furniture still exactly the same it was the day she died.
so to be told he's human because he's grieving is almost shocking.
d is allowed to come close to him. he's allowed to touch him, even. up this close, when he touches him, he'll find that fei du almost flinches at the touch, and maybe more so, he is trembling, and violently, shaking like a leaf. his mouth opens, closes. ]
I -
[ I don't want it. at first, but that's not true. of course he does. he wants it more than anything. the tears keep coming, like they've been held back for years, because they have been. slowly, the static in his brain starts to fizzle.
fei du shudders. like this, he's not the sometimes silly, playful, social president fei, or even the sometimes scary sociopathic ceo who talks about strangulation and murder like he enjoys it, who claims to love pain and acts like a sadist, who tries to turn people against him because he knows he makes a good villain. no. fei du is a terrified, miserable child who puts claw marks in everything he's ever loved because he's so desperately afraid it's going to leave him again.
he tilts his head forward. just slightly. just enough to press into the touch, and doesn't move. ]
no subject
He did want to emphasize Fei Du isn’t a monster; however, there was no need for him to even bother mentioning the word right now. He isn’t going to give Fei Du inward ammunition to which he can cling.
Gently, he brushes his fingers over Fei Du’s cheek, wiping the wetness away even if it’s only momentary. Then he lifts his arms and embraces Fei Du’s shoulders, drawing him to himself. Hugging him lightly—in case Fei Du may want to pull away.]
Someone terrible has hurt you for a long time, Mr. Fei. Even without that in the way, it is hardest of all to love yourself when you are human. I have seen it many times. Again and again. The worst humans have to give.
But humans can change. I have seen that, too, as loathe as I am to admit.
You don’t have to be afraid of President Fei Du anymore. The only Fei Du that exists is the Fei Du I’m holding right now, the one mourning Mr. Luo. And he would never hurt any human or animal because he knows the value of human life. He always has, or he would have never tried to hurt himself as a reminder.
I want you to forgive yourself, Mr. Fei. And I want you to trust more in yourself now so you can find better ways to help when you feel out of control.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[Since denying the apology would probably feel worse than simply accepting an unnecessary one.
He rests one hand on the back of Fei Du's head and keeps the other arm around Fei Du's shoulders, patting the back of one rhythmically. He doesn't mind holding Fei Du while the man gets it all out. In fact, he thinks he probably should have held Chris more often too rather than keep him and Leon at arm's length.
That is simply the price of duty.]
When we go back, [Not if because If is such a terribly fragile thing to say right now.] when your father is gone, I want you to leave that place. All of it. I want you and Mr. Luo to start your own lives together somewhere, something new, with the handsome and magnificent Master Yiguo. I want you to never look back again.
If you let the past keep its fingers in you then you will never be able to move forward into the future. Trust me... on that at least.
[As someone bound to the past, as someone shackled to remember the vengeance sprouted there, he knows.]
You can do that. I believe in you. You deserve to heal.
[Just as Chris did.]