[ xiao xingchen loves the way song lan laughs. anyone who says he isn't funny, isn't kind, is so sorely mistaken--or maybe they just haven't had the chance to know song lan as intimately as xiao xingchen has. he's always happy to share with anyone, as a proper daoist and a pure hearted daozhang, but he wouldn't mind so much to keep this to himself. hearing him huff that tiny noise makes xiao xingchen's heart flutter, and he can't help the way his mouth quirks up at the corners again.
xiao xingchen can't see song lan's expression, but he can feel him watching him. a part of him wants to shy away out of embarrassment, almost unused to the attention, but it's song lan and xiao xingchen trusts him beyond all belief, beyond anything. the fact that he returns the favor (still, even after--even after this) that they're still here, together, maybe even closer than they've ever been, is still beyond his wildest dreams. he shifts, hyperaware of the touch of their skin together, the slide that comes when he moves even the tiniest bit, and when song lan reaches to touch him, he lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
it's so soft it gives him goosebumps. so tender, xiao xingchen melts.
his smile lifts, more and more, eyebrows knitting together until his expression, even blind, is sappy and warm, as soft as soft can be. xiao xingchen has never been the type to hide his warmth or kindness, and here is no different. he tilts his head into song lan's gentle fingers, and the palm of his hand rises, sliding up song lan's warm wrist, to wrap around the outside of his hand, and he squeezes, softly, reassurance. whether it's for himself or zichen is yet to be seen. ]
Perhaps not. [ xiao xingchen repeats, softly, just loud enough to be heard in the quiet of this inn room, where they might have finally found a bit of peace. he is so lucky, to be here, with song lan, to be safe. as a pair of consistent travelers, xiao xingchen's best home was always by this person's side.
he turns his face and summons his bravery. cheeks warmed by the heat of the bath and his own, softly flustered intentions, he tilts his head towards the fingers against his cheek--now brushing his mouth--and presses the softest, most featherlight kiss to his knuckles. his voice drops again, nearly hesitant. ] Zichen...perhaps not.
[ a repeat, there, hollow compared to what he wants to say. how does he quantify how he feels about song zichen? after this, this great and beautiful kindness, his forgiveness, his care, the tenderness in his touch. it's too big for his chest. is this how his shijie felt, coming down from the mountain and falling head over heels, enough to have a family? nothing about this closeness is really that silly (aside from the fact that they're both too big for this tub.)
never once has xiao xingchen regretted his decision, and this--this is the kind of (great, big, perfect, heavenly) thing is worth facing tragedy for. ]
no subject
xiao xingchen can't see song lan's expression, but he can feel him watching him. a part of him wants to shy away out of embarrassment, almost unused to the attention, but it's song lan and xiao xingchen trusts him beyond all belief, beyond anything. the fact that he returns the favor (still, even after--even after this) that they're still here, together, maybe even closer than they've ever been, is still beyond his wildest dreams. he shifts, hyperaware of the touch of their skin together, the slide that comes when he moves even the tiniest bit, and when song lan reaches to touch him, he lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
it's so soft it gives him goosebumps. so tender, xiao xingchen melts.
his smile lifts, more and more, eyebrows knitting together until his expression, even blind, is sappy and warm, as soft as soft can be. xiao xingchen has never been the type to hide his warmth or kindness, and here is no different. he tilts his head into song lan's gentle fingers, and the palm of his hand rises, sliding up song lan's warm wrist, to wrap around the outside of his hand, and he squeezes, softly, reassurance. whether it's for himself or zichen is yet to be seen. ]
Perhaps not. [ xiao xingchen repeats, softly, just loud enough to be heard in the quiet of this inn room, where they might have finally found a bit of peace. he is so lucky, to be here, with song lan, to be safe. as a pair of consistent travelers, xiao xingchen's best home was always by this person's side.
he turns his face and summons his bravery. cheeks warmed by the heat of the bath and his own, softly flustered intentions, he tilts his head towards the fingers against his cheek--now brushing his mouth--and presses the softest, most featherlight kiss to his knuckles. his voice drops again, nearly hesitant. ] Zichen...perhaps not.
[ a repeat, there, hollow compared to what he wants to say. how does he quantify how he feels about song zichen? after this, this great and beautiful kindness, his forgiveness, his care, the tenderness in his touch. it's too big for his chest. is this how his shijie felt, coming down from the mountain and falling head over heels, enough to have a family? nothing about this closeness is really that silly (aside from the fact that they're both too big for this tub.)
never once has xiao xingchen regretted his decision, and this--this is the kind of (great, big, perfect, heavenly) thing is worth facing tragedy for. ]