Jiyong had never been the best at reading people, but even he could tell that Zitao’s nod was forced, done more out of weariness than determined belief. And why wouldn’t it have been, when deep down, Jiyong didn’t even believe himself? He hung his head low, stepping aside to let Zitao squeeze past him in the small space, feeling pretty fucking pitiful when he was left by himself.
He turned his head to the mirror, barely recognizing his own reflection through the splotches of water stains. There was hardly a glimmer of the young invincible thing he’d once been. The brightly colored earrings that had once adorned his ears, the bleached blonde hair, the kohl in his waterline — things that had always made physical the electric fervor with which he’d done everything — they were gone and he was a skeleton of himself, empty ear piercings now just scars, fringe dark and overgrown, eyes puffy and red around the rims. He reached for the bottle of painkillers still on the counter, rolling it back and forth slowly between his fingers until Zitao’s voice came like a saving grace. Jiyong quickly snapped out of his thoughts and set the bottle down, almost ashamed.
“We’ll be lucky if they don’t kill us tonight in our fucking sleep.” He joined Zitao in the bedroom, his flat, fatigued tone not at all matching the morbid truth of his statement. But he was too drained to rack his brain right now, and he took Zitao’s cue in getting more comfortable, taking the duffel bag off the bed and setting it onto the floor before going to toe off his shoes. For a moment, he considered asking Zitao if he knew anyone else in Guangzhou who could help, but he figured it would only bring back a bad taste in his mouth regarding Yifan. “Let’s just keep these close by,” he said instead, pulling out the pistol from the back of his pants and setting it on the nightstand. Seeing that the other man was very obviously struggling to undress himself, Jiyong bent down to finish unlacing his shoes, gently pulling them off and setting them beside the bed. He looked over the rest of Zitao then, his mouth turning up into a small, crooked smirk. “Never thought I’d be asking this but, need some help taking off those pants, too?”
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-05-06 06:10 am (UTC)He turned his head to the mirror, barely recognizing his own reflection through the splotches of water stains. There was hardly a glimmer of the young invincible thing he’d once been. The brightly colored earrings that had once adorned his ears, the bleached blonde hair, the kohl in his waterline — things that had always made physical the electric fervor with which he’d done everything — they were gone and he was a skeleton of himself, empty ear piercings now just scars, fringe dark and overgrown, eyes puffy and red around the rims. He reached for the bottle of painkillers still on the counter, rolling it back and forth slowly between his fingers until Zitao’s voice came like a saving grace. Jiyong quickly snapped out of his thoughts and set the bottle down, almost ashamed.
“We’ll be lucky if they don’t kill us tonight in our fucking sleep.” He joined Zitao in the bedroom, his flat, fatigued tone not at all matching the morbid truth of his statement. But he was too drained to rack his brain right now, and he took Zitao’s cue in getting more comfortable, taking the duffel bag off the bed and setting it onto the floor before going to toe off his shoes. For a moment, he considered asking Zitao if he knew anyone else in Guangzhou who could help, but he figured it would only bring back a bad taste in his mouth regarding Yifan. “Let’s just keep these close by,” he said instead, pulling out the pistol from the back of his pants and setting it on the nightstand. Seeing that the other man was very obviously struggling to undress himself, Jiyong bent down to finish unlacing his shoes, gently pulling them off and setting them beside the bed. He looked over the rest of Zitao then, his mouth turning up into a small, crooked smirk. “Never thought I’d be asking this but, need some help taking off those pants, too?”