[ it's probably a good thing that flayn is asleep just seconds later, because that surprises yin yu so much at first, he pauses.
it shouldn't. it should feel obvious. it's felt obvious all evening, as they were stuck sharing their emotions - but he wasn't able to put a name to it, not really. or rather, any obliviousness towards it was willful. even though it was right there in front of him, it's just...
even now, yin yu wonders how could someone like flayn could love him. what has he possibly done to earn this - this warmth, this affection, this love? flayn is kind and fierce, beautiful and warm, charming, gentle, powerful, someone nearly everyone in this camp adores. in contrast, yin yu is an unnoticeable, presenceless, nobody, a failure, a banished god, the kind of person who fades so easily in the background, eclipsed by the brightness of every star around. but, settled here like this, he doesn't feel like any of those things. not the xianxianyue officer, not his highness the failed martial god of the west.
...he just feels like yin yu. a person with a name. a person who could maybe do something half right to protect flayn, to keep her safe.
from a thrown piece of fruit at a ghost, to a persistent, lovely, endless kindness. from pinky promises, and trials, memorials and flower language. from someone who refused to let him hide, because he thought it would be easier to slip away from everyone instead of make a single bond of his own. from laughing until his sides hurt at a mountain goat that stole their food, from the worst memory of his life that she saw, and accepted, and she loved him anyway.
she loves him anyway.
it's a little while after she's asleep, and he can feel her breathing even out, that yin yu leans forward, and presses his lips to the crown of her head. he lingers there, for a while, eyes closed, feeling so overwhelmingly warm he might burst.
it gets stuck in his throat. it's like he has to push it out, like the words are creaky and old from disuse, because they are. and when yin yu says it, flayn can't even hear him, but he sounds vulnerable, open. quiet.
tender. ]
...I love you, too.
[ it will be another hour before he sleeps properly, but when he does, it will be restful.
yin yu stays curled around her the entire night. ]
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fishingforcompliments) wrote2020-06-06 12:53 pm
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it shouldn't. it should feel obvious. it's felt obvious all evening, as they were stuck sharing their emotions - but he wasn't able to put a name to it, not really. or rather, any obliviousness towards it was willful. even though it was right there in front of him, it's just...
even now, yin yu wonders how could someone like flayn could love him. what has he possibly done to earn this - this warmth, this affection, this love? flayn is kind and fierce, beautiful and warm, charming, gentle, powerful, someone nearly everyone in this camp adores. in contrast, yin yu is an unnoticeable, presenceless, nobody, a failure, a banished god, the kind of person who fades so easily in the background, eclipsed by the brightness of every star around. but, settled here like this, he doesn't feel like any of those things. not the xianxianyue officer, not his highness the failed martial god of the west.
...he just feels like yin yu. a person with a name. a person who could maybe do something half right to protect flayn, to keep her safe.
from a thrown piece of fruit at a ghost, to a persistent, lovely, endless kindness. from pinky promises, and trials, memorials and flower language. from someone who refused to let him hide, because he thought it would be easier to slip away from everyone instead of make a single bond of his own. from laughing until his sides hurt at a mountain goat that stole their food, from the worst memory of his life that she saw, and accepted, and she loved him anyway.
she loves him anyway.
it's a little while after she's asleep, and he can feel her breathing even out, that yin yu leans forward, and presses his lips to the crown of her head. he lingers there, for a while, eyes closed, feeling so overwhelmingly warm he might burst.
it gets stuck in his throat. it's like he has to push it out, like the words are creaky and old from disuse, because they are. and when yin yu says it, flayn can't even hear him, but he sounds vulnerable, open. quiet.
tender. ]
...I love you, too.
[ it will be another hour before he sleeps properly, but when he does, it will be restful.
yin yu stays curled around her the entire night. ]