[At first, he doesn't want to let go of Xingchen, doesn't want to allow Xingchen's hand to withdraw from him. It's not something he's thought about a lot - not even something he's actively aware of now - but he's not touched anyone like this in a long time. Like this, in this affectionate way, in this way that meant more, that spoke of comfort and companionship, that sometimes lingered, hinting at deeper desires, deeper feelings. There is no one but Xingchen he could ever touch like that and Xingchen was not there anymore. But he is here.
He is here and he is still too transfixed by that presence to not just let him do whatever he wanted to do. Such as, it seems, getting his nose gently tapped. He blinks, then scoffs quietly in amusement, so that Xingchen would know his reaction.]
Who's the silly one?
[Both, probably.
Everywhere Xingchen has touched or even just brushed against feels warmer than he has felt in a long time. Still, it is not enough. He hungers for his touch, fuelled by the intensity of years of longing. He wants more, he wants him, and he wants to know that he is real, this is real, that this is not just a delusion. Part of him, however, also feels a bit of fear, not an emotion he registers often, wondering whether it could all crumble, all fall away and leave him alone in a town filled with death and with an absence that eats at his very soul.
Suppressing the fear that would make him hesitate comes with practised ease, he works through it and then moves closer to Xingchen, until he can lean against the man, his hand resting on his thigh casually. Xue Yang does not know why his heart is beating faster and he pays it no mind, he simply looks at Xingchen and smiles.]
You are lucky I am here now, daozhang. I can keep you out of trouble. Maybe I'll even make edible food for us.
[Because he does not want anything to break this. He wants to stay with him. Stay suspended in this impossible moment where Xingchen feels something other than disgust and actions don't have consequences yet.]
no subject
He is here and he is still too transfixed by that presence to not just let him do whatever he wanted to do. Such as, it seems, getting his nose gently tapped. He blinks, then scoffs quietly in amusement, so that Xingchen would know his reaction.]
Who's the silly one?
[Both, probably.
Everywhere Xingchen has touched or even just brushed against feels warmer than he has felt in a long time. Still, it is not enough. He hungers for his touch, fuelled by the intensity of years of longing. He wants more, he wants him, and he wants to know that he is real, this is real, that this is not just a delusion. Part of him, however, also feels a bit of fear, not an emotion he registers often, wondering whether it could all crumble, all fall away and leave him alone in a town filled with death and with an absence that eats at his very soul.
Suppressing the fear that would make him hesitate comes with practised ease, he works through it and then moves closer to Xingchen, until he can lean against the man, his hand resting on his thigh casually. Xue Yang does not know why his heart is beating faster and he pays it no mind, he simply looks at Xingchen and smiles.]
You are lucky I am here now, daozhang. I can keep you out of trouble. Maybe I'll even make edible food for us.
[Because he does not want anything to break this. He wants to stay with him. Stay suspended in this impossible moment where Xingchen feels something other than disgust and actions don't have consequences yet.]