Shen Yuan holds Binghe, and lets himself be held, for a long, long time. He doesn't cry, just—breathes, at first shaky and terrible, finally slower and more controlled. The horrible, conjured-up, underwater voice of his sister finally fades into nothingness against the backdrop of the house around them, the other residents moving about the halls, murmuring to each other, the wind rustling in the forest outside. He's aware of so much, as Shen Qingqiu, aware of movement and energies his original human self could never feel, and he focuses on that awareness as much as possible, the reality of this reality, and—most present, most real—Binghe, big and warm against him.

Finally he shifts back, a little, and runs his hands up Binghe's chest to his throat, his jaw. "You brought me back to where you made me a Bulbasaur."