smoltongzhi - Tumblr blog

[smoltongzhi]

“...and a gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.”

Richard Siken, Snow and Dirty Rain

[smoltongzhi]

In these days of a better life, Yung's errand-running was about as unpredictable as his actions got. He returned from some petcare errands unexpectedly quickly.

"Hi, ba..." He trailed off as he saw what his boyfruend had on, and a huge grin warmed his face. "Is that mine?"

(smoltongzhi) [caught]

for  your  muse  to  catch  my  muse  wearing  their  shirt .

“ Uhh- Hey, Jin.”

 The collar of  the shirt had been pressed up over his nose until the door had opened on him.

“ You’re, kinda back early, are you sure you got everything you were supposed to-?”

[smoltongzhi]

[Focus on ass]

[smoltongzhi]

@aptlyattorney

okay date idea: we just absolutely beat the shit out of each other in a car park then maybe idk get a slushie or something

[smoltongzhi]

[smoltongzhi]

investing in...the cock market

[smoltongzhi]

lan wangji: do you ever think before you speak?

wei wuxian: yes, i think "haha, that's funny", and then i say it

[smoltongzhi]

If he stays like this, Yung can hold himself together in one piece. He accepts the touch on his neck and warm arms holding him tight this time, both protected and restrained; he can't hurt himself when he's embraced like this.

"S-stay, stay, don't... Don't let m-me..."

His pleas and sobs had just begun to peter off, hinting at an exhausted collapse of his panic, when someone knocks on the front door. Yung winds back up like a heated spring in an instant, clutching all the tighter at his partner.

smoltongzhi​:

His breathing eases for a moment, relieved when the ruined curtains and bar are pulled away to let him feel freer again. He hears Apollo’s movements, his voice, and that eases him a little too.

Yung’s one hand meets and clutches at Apollo’s as the other blindly feels for more to cling to, settling for the attorney’s shirt to drag both of them closer together. Close enough to hide the pained grimace of his crying and to give himself something warm and solid to rely on.

“‘Pollo… A… Apollo… Don’ go, d…” Yung squeezes his boyfriend’s hand briefly, painfully tight. His face burns hot and wet, pressed against Apollo’s chest.

“ I’m not going anywhere.” Apollo’s grip is loose, but  it assumes a place, the safest place against his neck,rubbing there and  murmuring small encouragements, hushing him  when the sobbing gets louder, or when he might try to talk in length too worriedly. Arms secure around him, until the knock at the door comes.

[smoltongzhi]

welcome to [tumblr] can i take your order

[smoltongzhi]

He shudders heavily at the hand that settles on the nape of his neck as if to calm him like a dog, but he soon accepts how gentle the touch is along with how much more Apollo holds him until he can just awkwardly crawl out of the bathtub and huddle against his boyfriend's chest.

Time lets Yung calm down enough for his breaths to go from hyperventilating to just uneven and hiccuping. He holds onto how solid Apollos body is, keeping his mind on it and listening to the murmurs of comfort as much as he can.

When he picks up the noise of someone knocking on the front door, though, the former rebel goes stone stiff and reflexively lowers a hand to his waist--but he's rarely armed these days and especially not at home.

smoltongzhi​:

His breathing eases for a moment, relieved when the ruined curtains and bar are pulled away to let him feel freer again. He hears Apollo’s movements, his voice, and that eases him a little too.

Yung’s one hand meets and clutches at Apollo’s as the other blindly feels for more to cling to, settling for the attorney’s shirt to drag both of them closer together. Close enough to hide the pained grimace of his crying and to give himself something warm and solid to rely on.

“‘Pollo… A… Apollo… Don’ go, d…” Yung squeezes his boyfriend’s hand briefly, painfully tight. His face burns hot and wet, pressed against Apollo’s chest.

“ I’m not going anywhere.” Apollo’s grip is loose, but  it assumes a place, the safest place against his neck,rubbing there and  murmuring small encouragements, hushing him  when the sobbing gets louder, or when he might try to talk in length too worriedly. Arms secure around him, until the knock at the door comes.

[smoltongzhi]

His breathing eases for a moment, relieved when the ruined curtains and bar are pulled away to let him feel freer again. He hears Apollo's movements, his voice, and that eases him a little too.

Yung's one hand meets and clutches at Apollo's as the other blindly feels for more to cling to, settling for the attorney's shirt to drag both of them closer together. Close enough to hide the pained grimace of his crying and to give himself something warm and solid to rely on.

"'Pollo... A... Apollo... Don' go, d..." Yung squeezes his boyfriend's hand briefly, painfully tight. His face burns hot and wet, pressed against Apollo's chest.

smoltongzhi​:

He can hear Apollo’s voice through the ringing in his ears, pleading with him however dull and distant the words feel. And doing something else, too, that barely registers. Yung can’t see him through the tears by this point, barely pulling air through the uncontrolled sobs, just wishing for some relief.

There is none.

“A-Apollo… Qing… Q… Qīn…” Please, please, anything. Some part of him calls back to the sensation of soothing lips and gentle hands rubbing warmth into him, letting him feel better, however impossible that seems now.

  The break of tears is enough relief for him to draw closer,  pulling away the  curtains  off of his prone form and untangle him from the  bar that came down with it. Kneeling beside the tub, he reaches for his hand again, gently, to pull him forward. “ Breathe-  please breathe.  I- I’m not going to do anything else until the ambulance shows up,” There’s still the fear, that he could turn again, and he’d be worse for wear before anyone has a chance to show up. “You don’t have to go with them- I just,” needed control of the situation. Needed something to make sense in the panic.

[smoltongzhi]

He can hear Apollo's voice through the ringing in his ears, pleading with him however dull and distant the words feel. And doing something else, too, that barely registers. Yung can't see him through the tears by this point, barely pulling air through the uncontrolled sobs, just wishing for some relief.

There is none.

"A-Apollo... Qing... Q... Qīn..." Please, please, anything. Some part of him calls back to the sensation of soothing lips and gentle hands rubbing warmth into him, letting him feel better, however impossible that seems now.

smoltongzhi​:

His head slams against the back wall of the shower space, hard enough to disorient but not to truly harm. It’s certainly no help for his fight to get his limbs under control and his face free of the curtains falling around him.

Yung resorts to gripping handfuls of the curtain and ripping it open, aching fingernails added to the heap of pains building in his body. He gasps for open air and then keeps gasping, more restrictive, and clutches the edge of the bathtub to hold himself up as hyperventilating panic attack overtakes him.

“Why didn’t I die? Now I’m dying,” he half-sobs in choked Malay, curling in on himself and giving into that certainty.

 Whatever Jin was sputtering out now, he couldn’t make himself focus on it.  Apollo retreats to the other side of the room, digging his phone out to hurriedly dial and keep one eye on his state. The curtain could be replaced- but risking himself closer could not be soundly done. It’s not the first time he’s read out an address, giving a rather sporadically detailed report of the situation to the voice on the other side. “Jin,   I don’t know what’s going on your head right now, but please- come back. You’re here- you’re here, and I’m here, and, you’re gonna be fine, okay-?” This was more than a stroke of bad luck, as he’d almost been convinced he had a cloud of it following him around. Fighting to keep his composure- that was the worst of this, even if at this angle, Jin couldn’t possibly see his expression unless he sat up. There would be fear to witness, and a helplessness to do anything.

[smoltongzhi]

“Why are you awake?”

"Mmm..."

Barely dressed in some sweatpants he pulled on after slipping out of bed, Yung hums softly from his spot at the kitchen counter. Snackish, perhaps, he had gotten some honeyed toast for himself; sweetened crumbs cling to the corner of his mouth.

"I wanted to not wake you up... Just having a thinking night. I'm okay." His voice runs soft, comfortable, and lets his partner's bracelet rest without problem. He gives Apollo a bleary smile. "And hungry. But we don't have anything good to eat."

[smoltongzhi]

His head slams against the back wall of the shower space, hard enough to disorient but not to truly harm. It's certainly no help for his fight to get his limbs under control and his face free of the curtains falling around him.

Yung resorts to gripping handfuls of the curtain and ripping it open, aching fingernails added to the heap of pains building in his body. He gasps for open air and then keeps gasping, more restrictive, and clutches the edge of the bathtub to hold himself up as hyperventilating panic attack overtakes him.

"Why didn't I die? Now I'm dying," he half-sobs in choked Malay, curling in on himself and giving into that certainty.

smoltongzhi​:

It’s alright for a moment; Yung can handle the restraining grip that keeps him from clawing at himself any more, and time has made him fond of that brash, warm voice that now panics over him. When one hand lets go of him to slip into his hair, though, he explodes into a rough shove that almost knocks Apollo over.

“Don’t fucking touch me-” he snarls in slurred Malay, clear in intent if not in words. Yung heaves a couple rough breaths and makes a sound resembling a sob. The touch he so often finds comfort in now burns in some deep part of his heart like a wave of nausea; he retreats even with the distance between him and his partner.

He hadn’t realized how he was maneuvered, though, and is too off-balance to stop himself when his legs bump into the wall of the backtub. He yelps in surprise as he falls in, snatching at the shower curtains to try to catch himself but only succeeding in pulling them down with him.

 Harsh words hissed at him don’t need to be necessarily translated,  though the brief confusion that comes with it, sends his hands flying in either direction to grab something for support- opting for the sink he’d planned to use for climbing to get the medical kit. It’s too fast for him to prevent, watching Jin crash backwards into the bathtub a loud thudding cacophony, the curtain, hopefully some cruel symbol that this was over, and he’d be looking into the eyes of the man he knew, and not the reactive, wild eyed stranger he thought he saw seconds ago. His grip on the edge of the counter  feels tighter than it should, and it anchors him there, unwilling to try and bridge the gap as quickly as he did before. Steps are slow, but  he stops short of looming over him. “ Are you- Jin, are  you alright?”

[smoltongzhi]

It's alright for a moment; Yung can handle the restraining grip that keeps him from clawing at himself any more, and time has made him fond of that brash, warm voice that now panics over him. When one hand lets go of him to slip into his hair, though, he explodes into a rough shove that almost knocks Apollo over.

"Don't fucking touch me-" he snarls in slurred Malay, clear in intent if not in words. Yung heaves a couple rough breaths and makes a sound resembling a sob. The touch he so often finds comfort in now burns in some deep part of his heart like a wave of nausea; he retreats even with the distance between him and his partner.

He hadn't realized how he was maneuvered, though, and is too off-balance to stop himself when his legs bump into the wall of the backtub. He yelps in surprise as he falls in, snatching at the shower curtains to try to catch himself but only succeeding in pulling them down with him.

smoltongzhi​:

Hot, firm hands secure around his wrists and it almost comes as a relief, setting off an ache in Yung’s eyes that he barely realizes amidst everything else. Sometimes he wished Apollo would show this roughness more often and shake him back to his senses until his brain shut up and he stopped being this pathetic-

He cringes and shrinks in on himself all the same but at least stops trying to scratch off his skin. The origin of some of his scarring certainly comes clearer now.

“Get o… I don’t wanna… Just… I can’t…” It’s too hard to pick a clear need to express in the stifling storm of Yung’s head. All he can manage to do is jerk half-heartedly against Apollo’s grip and shove his head against the attorney’s shoulder–whether for closeness or to try to push him away, it’s too hard to tell.

“N-No, I,” It’s not as though he’s particularly trained for what to do- his own darker days hadn’t manifested this way for himself,  more internal, and easier to get through with a friend at his side on most days in that old college dorm.  He did the necessary exercises for calming down, but not for controlling someone like this. There’s no reading into his motions-  Once his forehead presses against him, he releases one arm to rest a hand atop his head, trying to find a soothing position to be gentle. His head shakes,  trying to ease him toward the edge of the bathtub to sit on. “ Gauze- rubbing, alcohol, where-?” His head turns upward, to try and use the sink’s counter to  prop himself up to where the medical kit was- just above the towels on the shelf.

[smoltongzhi]

Hot, firm hands secure around his wrists and it almost comes as a relief, setting off an ache in Yung's eyes that he barely realizes amidst everything else. Sometimes he wished Apollo would show this roughness more often and shake him back to his senses until his brain shut up and he stopped being this pathetic-

He cringes and shrinks in on himself all the same but at least stops trying to scratch off his skin. The origin of some of his scarring certainly comes clearer now.

"Get o... I don't wanna... Just... I can't..." It's too hard to pick a clear need to express in the stifling storm of Yung's head. All he can manage to do is jerk half-heartedly against Apollo's grip and shove his head against the attorney's shoulder--whether for closeness or to try to push him away, it's too hard to tell.

@smoltongzhi continued from here

Getting home on time had been apart of his old routine,  but  with an extra note to be a little faster,  he’d take a hit to his hours on the clock and apologized to his boss for stepping out early. A phone call was always rare between them, though it held none of the intent that Jin might’ve hinted at weeks before this scene now in front of him.  Apollo had approached him with all the caution one gives a wounded animal, and more than that, the self confidence to think he could talk him down from his apparent state. “Stop- stopstopstop!” The horror of watching the nails raise up skin to let thin red jerks him to action, grabbing for his wrists, but, restraining himself from the instinctive pull. His nails weren’t dipped in poison, but  one always managed to do more damage when forced in a certain direction.

“Jin, don’t- don’t do this to yourself. Please, don’t.” There was an ache somewhere, between his struggle to keep composed and find the proper reaction- something constructive for the situation while his voice felt heavy in his throat.

[smoltongzhi]

“ you’re not a machine or— or some thing. you’re a person, and i’m sorry anyone ever made you feel otherwise. ”

It's an interesting word to turn around in his head as Yung so furiously scrubs down his hands and arms, not just trying to scrub away some awful ghostly sensation of long-gone blood but that itch that he knows leads to a sickening black spiral.

(He's better than that now. He's lasted a long time. Apollo would be disappointed--probably worse--if he relapsed.)

"People don't treat people so great either."

The funniest things bring the worst to mind. It's just dinner. Not that ambush during his hazy, violent years when the blood was very much real as he fumbled with the soldier he got the drop on--the slick, panicked horror of struggling with a dying man to keep from rousing an alarm.

He knows he wished for mindlessness or even a cold lack of regret, lack of uncertainty, back then. It was easier in the moment. Now it feels like some never-ending pull towards a personal hell that he can't drown out, he won't-

Yung rests his forehead against the bathroom mirror and starts slowly clawing at his track marks.