Mmm, there doesn't have to be... [ he murmurs it quietly, thinks of the way lifetimes ago, Xingchen looked with a sword in his hand on blood on the blade. how it was beautiful and enrapturing and how there was more than once that Xue Yang thought he would be okay with dying if it was by Xingchen's blade (has to stop himself from squeezing his hand too tight when he thinks of how he did go, how they both did).
there must still be something on his face when he goes to order though, because the person taking the order looks a little terrified, and he finds himself snapping with a furrow between his brows as he tries to 'behave', just for his boyfriend (even if he wanted to snarl, just a little). and then--
then Xingchen seems to collapse inwards, curls in on himself like funeral paper burning, and tries to twist out of Xue Yang's grasp and pleads with him. it's familiar, too familiar, and Xue Yang hates it. the cashier is looking at them with something that has gone a little beyond fear, something worried as they look at Xingchen, and that makes hims snarl, something sharp and cold, though it probably doesn't help anything as he tries to slide his hands to Xingchen's shoulders, whether to pull him close or push him away he isn't sure.
('was it fun?' there's blood on his blade, on both their blades, and he can taste copper and bitterness on his tongue, but it is not enough to stop him from grinning, too wide and all teeth. not enough to stop him from telling the truth with a cruel kind of glee. 'of course'.)]
Xingchen! What are you--? [ the words are shaken, anger and confusion fear all at once.] What's wrong.
[ he remembers what it was like the first time the now and the then crashed together, wonders if--]
no subject
there must still be something on his face when he goes to order though, because the person taking the order looks a little terrified, and he finds himself snapping with a furrow between his brows as he tries to 'behave', just for his boyfriend (even if he wanted to snarl, just a little). and then--
then Xingchen seems to collapse inwards, curls in on himself like funeral paper burning, and tries to twist out of Xue Yang's grasp and pleads with him. it's familiar, too familiar, and Xue Yang hates it. the cashier is looking at them with something that has gone a little beyond fear, something worried as they look at Xingchen, and that makes hims snarl, something sharp and cold, though it probably doesn't help anything as he tries to slide his hands to Xingchen's shoulders, whether to pull him close or push him away he isn't sure.
('was it fun?' there's blood on his blade, on both their blades, and he can taste copper and bitterness on his tongue, but it is not enough to stop him from grinning, too wide and all teeth. not enough to stop him from telling the truth with a cruel kind of glee. 'of course'.)]
Xingchen! What are you--? [ the words are shaken, anger and confusion fear all at once.] What's wrong.
[ he remembers what it was like the first time the now and the then crashed together, wonders if--]
Xingchen!