protagonisthalo | [closed post] aftermath

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[closed post] aftermath

More than anything, Luo Binghe wishes this weren't so familiar. He is well accustomed to people drawn in by his beauty and charm, who turn away when they see what he is truly like. It has happened with nearly all of his wives, except Liu Mingyan. (He would love to see Liu Mingyan right now; how she would laugh at the idea that barely a day of torment inflicted on an enemy has caused all this trouble.)

It is still hard to believe Shen Yuan will not someday reach his limit and discover something that repulses him. But so far, no matter how deep he digs into Luo Binghe's darkness, he only fills it with light. Luo Binghe wants that feeling now. He wants to bathe in Shen Yuan's love and forgiveness; to transform under the light of his smile into someone worth loving. (A dose of sharp pain as he remembers the wish he involuntarily expressed to Claudius under the truth spell: I want to be proven wrong. I want someone to see some good in me that I did not recognize, and show me what it is. Shen Yuan has not yet convinced him, but he has come closer than Luo Binghe thought possible.) He is looking for Shen Yuan, following the pull of the blood they share, but if he passes by anyone else he counts as a friend, he will want to see them too.

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"You're clever and charming in conversation. You make me laugh. You make me happy. And you work so hard, Binghe. You've always worked so hard, at everything you've ever done. You've built your way up from nothing, less than nothing—I think it's incredible. I really—" He shakes his head. "I've never really worked for anything, ever, in my life. I can't imagine doing what you've done."

When he'd first gotten here, he's not sure he would have recognized Binghe as hardworking. Not in the way he's thinking about it now. He would have thought about it as an inherent Protagonist trait, basically not worth mentioning. Of course he'd won what he'd won. Of course he'd gained what he'd gained. That was his genre, his story structure. But—his boyfriend is a person. Binghe had not been sailing through his story knowing everything would be easy. None of it was easy, even if it had been predictable from the outside. And when he pictures being in his place, having to make the choice, always, to pick up himself up off the ground, to swing his sword again—it makes his heart swell inside him. He gathers Binghe closer.

Edited 2024-04-16 21:24 (UTC)

Luo Binghe's eyes fill with hot tears. Everything has always been so hard, and to know that Shen Yuan recognizes it exposes some buried tender part of him. This—a simple, undemanding life with a friendly group of people—should be a welcome respite. But he's ruined it. Because the monsters inside him have always been harder to manage than anything in the demon realm.

"You shouldn't have to. I'm glad you haven't gone through what I have." He doesn't realize until he says it that it inspires no envy in him. Envy and jealousy often poison his relationships; he was viciously envious of Sagramore. He just cannot wish for anything but the best for Shen Yuan.

"You shouldn't have had to, either," says Shen Yuan, petting his head again. "No one should. That's not my point, though. You did go through it, and you never let it beat you. This won't, either. I wish this hadn't happened. I wish Sagramore hadn't done this to you. But he's just one man. He's not this whole place."

"Mm." Luo Binghe lets himself be soothed by the words and Shen Yuan's hand in his hair. It feels good on the surface, but it doesn't touch the dark storm stirred up by the conversation with Sagramore. He cannot shake the dread that he has done something terribly wrong, something unfixable—familiar dread that often comes over him unprovoked, but thick as smoke in his throat now. And he will miss Sagramore. He misses him already. Of all his deficits and weaknesses, the primary one must be how poorly he tolerates loss.

He shifts a little in Shen Yuan's arms. "Have I told you what happened the day of the childhood curse?"

Shen Yuan shakes his head, and then realizes Binghe is too buried in his robes to be able to see him. "Just about giving Nina a lovely dream," he says. "Nothing about what else happened to you as a child." Besides being given a bunch of snacks by yours truly.

Edited 2024-04-18 14:07 (UTC)

"It's just that Claudius and I got along well, as children. He gave me, ah, a token of friendship. A ring."

Shen Yuan blinks, startled. Not that Claudius and Binghe got along well as kids— he hadn't met de-aged Claudius, bt who wouldn't get along with baby Binghe??—but at the second part. "He gave you a ring? Do you still have it?"

"I gave it back, of course." He would not keep a token of affection from someone who hates him. "But we spoke again on the day of the truth curse. Claudius knows me very well. Second only to you, perhaps. It is different than the animosity that Lan Wangji and I share, which is marked by total disinterest on both sides. It seems the project of this mansion to force us to understand each other, and perhaps to prove that familiarity does not breed affection." Or, more likely, to show Luo Binghe what he could have had; to force him to feel the loss of Claudius' regard, a hurt he attempted to bury once he'd decided to cease his revenge. He resents it.

Childhood tokens and depths of understanding--and everyone thought Shen Yuan was crazy to read narrative significance into Claudius and Binghe! "I do think there's something here with a cruel streak," he admits. "I mean--obviously trapping us here at all is cruel. But--you weren't trapped with Claudius in the closet. Maybe the spirits have moved on. Maybe Sagramore's is the last blow of this you'll have to endure."

"Perhaps," Luo Binghe allows, though he is unconvinced. He still has much to lose. The more he is rejected by those around them, the more he turns to Shen Yuan. If he has no one else, then their relationship must be everything to them, and it must be perfect—and although Shen Yuan is perfect, Luo Binghe is far from it. It scares him to have so much resting on one person, like a palace erected precariously on only one pillar. But there's nothing he can do about it now—save making sure his friendship with Nina is in no danger. He sighs.

Shen Yuan runs a hand up and down his back, soothing. "Do you," he starts, and then hesitates. "Do you want me to stop hanging out with him?"

It's tempting. Of course it is. It would devastate Sagramore. Wrenching Shen Yuan away would hurt him in a way no one could possibly blame Luo Binghe for. It would only be fair.

The thought of the two of them continuing their friendship—enjoying each other's company, laughing, sharing drinks, all without Luo Binghe—arouses something ugly and dark within him. Stopping it would feed the hot satisfaction he has been chasing for years, the addictive rush of watching Qing Jing Peak burn to the ground, or taking the daughter of an enemy to his marriage bed. The reassurance that those who hurt him will pay. That he doesn't have to simply endure suffering, like when he was a powerless child. The world, now, rights itself around him. It is the least he would do to Sagramore, if he were the man his wives have always known him to be.

But it would hurt Shen Yuan as well. He'd pretend it didn't, if he thought it was what Luo Binghe wanted, but Luo Binghe knows what Shen Yuan is like when he is pretending not to be upset. Losing his train of thought, stumbling over words. The unconvincing smiles. He can't be the one to cause it.

It strikes him why he has always held himself back from love, holding even those closest to him at arm's length. It truly has weakened him. It has made him easier to hurt, and taken away his ability to protect himself—he thinks unhappily of allowing Galahad to threaten him with no recourse.

Yet, still he chooses it. Now he truly understands the meaning of the saying "A beauty can destroy an empire."

The answer is no, but Luo Binghe still wants to stall a little before answering. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course," says Shen Yuan. He'd promised to leave everyone here behind for Binghe, eventually—in comparison, not speaking to one specific person here isn't such a huge deal. Even if it his his closest friend, and the one he had, until today, felt most comfortable talking about Binghe to, the one who had helped them get together most in the first place. Even if—god, he'd been so sure they were united in this, in caring for Binghe, in making this place better for him and helping him fit better into it. What the fuck had been going through Sagramore's head during the whole—blood drinking, um, thing, if it hadn't been about cementing that connection? Like, hope about his epilepsy, of course, but—had it been a farewell? A final hurrah? "It—he's my friend. But he was your friend, too, and you're already dealing with that loss. I don't want to do anything that makes you feel worse."

Luo Binghe lets himself savor it for a long moment before relenting. "No. It won't make me feel better for you to lose a friend." Besides, unlike some people, he allows his boyfriend to choose his own connections. "Just do not speak of him to me."

Once again, it feels seismic, like something has shifted that cannot be put back. Never before has he prioritized anything over vengeance and retribution. It leaves him hollow, unsure who he is or what will be left of him if he stays here much longer. But everyone seems to agree that the change is good—Nina herself said it was his best quality. He plucks at Shen Yuan's robes idly with his fingers, troubled.

Edited 2024-04-22 22:49 (UTC)

"Sweetheart." Shen Yuan turns his face upward and kisses him softly on the forehead. He's relieved, and touched, and so full of love and sorrow. "Thank you."

Luo Binghe loves to receive Shen Yuan's affection more than anything, but right now it aches, the way even silk grates against a raw wound. He has allowed so much because of Shen Yuan: the disrespect from Lan Wangji, the intimidation from Galahad, and now this utter rejection; all things he would never have tolerated before. If he cannot rage against these slights, his only choice is to feel them. It is far more difficult than fighting.

He looks away, unable to stand the undiluted love in Shen Yuan's gaze. It's not a selfless act, anyway. If Luo Binghe cannot be happy—and twenty-six years of evidence suggests that he cannot—then Shen Yuan must be happy, so Luo Binghe can at least feel the warmth of it.

"Will you tell me again why you didn't like Final Sunrise?"

Shen Yuan huffs, relieved and then immediately guilty about that relief. He's not built for emotional support—he always feels like he's saying the wrong thing, or just talking out of his ass—but being mad at fiction he can absolutely do. "Lay down," he orders, and then doesn't wait for Binghe to do it, manhandling him until he's lying across the couch, head in Shen Yuan's lap where it's most easily petted and caressed.

"Okay," he says. "So first of all. The fucking pregnancy plotline, which was so obviously shoehorned in to end the love triangle drama without anyone being sad or uncomfortable ever again, which is unrealistic writing. Add in on top of that the sudden time travel plot, even though that element hasn't existed in this universe at all until the last minute—it's like a fucking—human centipede of deus ex machinas, one after the other, and the romance between Isabelle and Ted, what little of it there still is, gets totally lost in all the nonsense about Kathlauren returning from the future to save Jake's life and them being in love even though Jake was definitely in love with Isabelle the whole time."

Luo Binghe lets Shen Yuan pet him, soothed by his familiar beloved irritation with the Blood at Dusk series. He was reading Shen Yuan's notes on the book when Sagramore came to comfort him and they fell into bed the second time. The memories hurt; Luo Binghe knows himself well enough to know such a sharp edge will take a long time to dull.

It is worse to think of how Sagramore must be doing some version of this same reckoning, retreating to Claudius—or perhaps his husband—or some other of his innumerable friends and lovers, and telling them he has parted ways with Luo Binghe. Undoubtedly, they are assuring him of how right he was to do so, how dangerous and evil Luo Binghe is, how unworthy of forgiveness. None of that is new. Many people in his own world think the same, but Luo Binghe has always been able to either change their minds or vanquish them in combat. He can do neither to Sagramore, and nor does he want to. He won't grovel to him, and even if it weren't for the social consequences, hurting him has little appeal. With no outlet, the hurt is left to fester inside Luo Binghe like an infected wound, poisoning him throughout. Even Shen Yuan cannot fix it, but the fact that he would try makes him unbearably precious. "Jake's feelings for Isabelle always struck me as insincere," he says mildly.

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes fondly. "I know, it was the thing you wrote most often in the margins of Moonless Midnights. But don't tell me you like him with Kathlauren? If they had to write him a romance, couldn't it have been someone outside of that whole thing? Why not make him gay or something? I still don't think it would make sense, but it would be better than fucking time travel. And it would explain the vibes in that one shirtless scene in the snow."

Wow, listen to him. He sounds like a MoBing shipper or something. He knows this is just distraction for Binghe, helping him not dwell on his hurt. But that's necessary sometimes, right? He knows Binghe usually broods and broods. It's part of his sex appeal. But that doesn't make it healthy, necessarily. If sounding like a fujoshi is what it takes to help his boyfriend process hurt better, so be it.

"That would have been better," Luo Binghe concedes. "Are you suggesting there was tension between Jake and Ted?"

The answer doesn't really matter. He's only asking because he knows Shen Yuan will give a long answer. He doesn't want to think about Sagramore, because he cannot figure out what to do, and doing nothing at all is terrifying. Instead, he closes his eyes and settles in to be petted and lectured at.

"Oh, I don't think it was well-written tension," Shen Yuan says archly, and leans down to kiss Binghe's sweet head. "It's just one of many things that could have been explored in the hands of a competent writer." He kisses him again. "I'm starting to think there are a lot of heterosexual love triangles that have a little bit of queerness to them, you know?" A kiss between every sentence, just because he can. "Like, not all of the aggression is really about jealousy." Kiss. "Sometimes a guy is obsessed with fighting another guy because he's obsessed with that guy, not the love interest they share." Kiss—and a little nuzzle to his temple. He smells so good. "On the other hand, sometimes a love triangle is so toxic that nobody there can be anything but straight." Kiss. "Like in..."

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[closed post] aftermath

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