drabble for @celesticlnstcrs
Perhaps he was a fool for thinking it would be less maddening to see all of it instead of endlessly trying to make sense of the fragments in his mind. He'd imagined it differently - like pieces falling into place and the nagging doubt to dissipate and turn into understanding. For sense to finally assert itself into his existence. Instead he got an overwhelming flood of impressions all at once, too much to take in and maintain for one person's brain - but it wasn't given the choice. His head hurts as if he's been staring into the archive screens for three days straight, trying to retain all the information he's been given; his heart aches as if Blade's sword is still stuck in his chest and all he wants to do is sleep. But while his mind is ready to shut down, his body is not tired and he's kept awake by a restlessness that sits in his veins like electricity.
He wants to say something, talk to someone, to scream or run until he reaches something somewhere - and for once he wouldn't be running from his past, because what haunts him resides within himself, wherever he goes. So he goes to the only place that's brought him comfort since this wound was reopened, to the only person who seems to understand and see him for who he is.
But was it free will that brought him here or is it his mind retracing what it lost? For he finds himself standing under a pavilion he now recognizes as familiar, a new-found memory replaying in his mind like it was yesterday. They were standing so close, Dan Feng's hand curled in the General's robe, his grip tight enough to appear desperate, pleading. In the present Dan Heng mirrors the gesture without meaning to, unaware of it until he finds his palm flat against Jing Yuan's armor at his chest. It's solid and cool and tethers him in the moment while the memory still tugs at his mind.
Are you alright?, Jing Yuan asks and Dan Heng doesn't know whether to nod or shake his head, an exasperated sigh coming over his lips. "I am.. confused," he responds, desperation clinging to his words. They were so close, Dan Feng's forehead resting against Jing Yuan's, the distance between them smaller than it had ever been. Dan Heng wasn't there; the memory he recalls is not his and yet the thoughts from then are in his head, and his heart, too, seems to remember, recalls the yearning he felt, the hope and the frustration. They can't do this - he's the High Elder.
..but he is not the High Elder. He doesn't owe anything to anyone, and whether the feelings inside him are his own or not, he no longer wants to resist them.
So where Dan Feng stepped away, eyes averted and his hand swerving out of reach when Jing Yuan tried to hold him back, Dan Heng stays close. He pushes up on the tip of his toes and brings their lips together in a soft searching kiss, his free hand closing around the General's wrist.
And for a few blissful moments the turmoil in his mind falls quiet.
