the concept of epilogue mike and will having been hooking up for a few months, which is why will is confidently playing footsie with mike under the table whilst looking at him Like That (read: seductively) as they're playing dnd with the rest of the party, and mike saying "time to join your friends, sorcerer" with his vampire teeth in like the dork he is whilst looking at will Like That (read: pathetically) is a reference to the fact that their makeout sessions usually end and begin with mike latching onto will's neck like the spiritual dorky lesbian vampire that he is.
the real kicker, though, is that in-between these makeout sessions the two have been having vague ass conversations about their future in which mike not-so-subtly hints at his belief that will is better off without him and that he'll never be able to find true happiness in the company of his miserable, depressed, repressed, closeted ass, whilst will himself tries and fails to convince mike that he's all he's ever wanted and that he's worth staying with even in the darkest times of his life and will wouldn't trade him for anything in the world just because he's still closeted and scared shitless because he believes in mike and he knows that there's a brighter future ahead of them than mike can't even begin to imagine, and he's willing to wait for it forever, he really is.
it isn't until that game of dnd that will realises that mike has made up his mind already and that there's no convincing him. he realises it the moment mike starts talking about the future he pictures for him, a future in which will leaves his past and hawkins behind and falls in love with a guy who lives elsewhere, somewhere far away... and so will asks, with tears in his eyes: "and the storyteller? what about him?", and mike? mike looks will dead in the eye and confesses that the future he sees for himself involves nothing but his typewriter, all-consuming guilt and the grief he insists on clinging onto as if he thinks it will save him. from what, will can't be sure, and it's starting to look like he'll have to keep wondering whether mike himself knows for the rest of his goddamn life, however and wherever it may be.
long story short, will leaves for new york city and mike goes to college with lucas, and they never stop being best friends, not really... but all it takes to scare mike away whenever they meet up, usually together with the rest of the party, is will glancing at his lips or letting a comfortable silence stretch for a moment too long, suddenly turning it into something close to suffocating. all it takes for things to get weird between them is a memory from their past lodging itself between them like an all too familiar impenetrable wall of forced avoidance and bitter dishonesty, which is why they eventually stop meeting up altogether.
e.g. if you were to disappear e.g. I would stop this for sure
title from Love Words V by deco*27
a late valentines for our beloved general! I made a lot of shit up oops.
cw: alcohol, identity issues(?), relationship insecurity. hurt/comfort 16+ for substances/drinking.
wc:2.9k
gn reader
my readers can't be happy im sorry they must go thru tribulations.
jing yuan who doesn't drink at all, and on the rare occasion he does its only a few cups of rice wine the two of you brewed together, or something of Dan Feng's and Yingxing's tucked away.
Tonight he indulges, reaching for a stronger proof, linking arms with his comrades (names that hardly matter, yet he remembers each one. They're not the friends he once trained with. Those soldiers have since died in combat) and smiles.
It is the anniversary of Baiheng's death. The day before Jingliu went marastruck. The day Yingxing became one with the Abundance's castoff skin and the day Dan Feng did what he [Jing Yuan] couldn't. If he in the past, had all the abilities that he has now, would he have been able to help them? To prevent the worst from happening? Would he have stayed with them instead of you? You know these questions rotate in his mind, a never ending carousel of his nightmares and desires. But what would anyone say if their general had such thoughts? you are inherently selfish, so you cannot judge him.
You look at your sent and unread texts. On a day like today it's normal. It's not the first time in your relationship with him, whatever you wish to call it. You're someone who keeps his bed warm, his mind safe while you experiment in the alchemy commission and he oversees the Luofu.
Pictures of Yanqing are strung up on the wall, hardly any of him or his friends (or you. Barely anything of yours is in the interior hallway). Yanqing as an infant, a toddler, a child in school, him winning at a sword competition… things you were lucky to partake in, being the one behind the camera, capturing these little moments before quietly taking leave.
Vibrations rouse you from your reverie.
Fu Xuan: [come here.]
[fu xuan sent a location]
rare from Fu Xuan to initiate a conversation. You thumb over the keyboard and type;
you: [why?]
fu xuan: [the general is drunk. he's causing a scene and scaring the others.]
In a case like this, you desperately wish he would lean on you a little more. Even if he were to shed a tear, or yell in frustration, to be honestly upset in front of you once in a while… he doesn't indulge like this. Maybe on a date night, but never enough to lose himself.
Fu Xuan: [he's drunk. Mumbling about the quintent again.]
you: [you alredy know what i wish to say, in regards to that, Fu-qing. Give me ten minutes.]
At some point in your life you were scared (still are) of yelling, shedding tears, but from someone who does none of that, not even when the one he fought to give a proper future to was sent back to the prison he was born in, and only showed it when you got possessed by a heliobus (a memory you do not wish to retain, yet the sound of his voice cajoling you and bringing you back is something you want to keep forever), it would be a blessing.
To have him in any form would satisfy you. There is no one to be jealous of, except for the phantoms of his past lovers, who now go by new names, are different people with the same face, and hardly yearn for him the same way you do (because they know they can return. You can be cast aside), yet you ache to covet it, keep him tucked away for yourself, or maybe to render yourself unable to ever leave him. Take the soul, take everything. Is it dramatic? Maybe. But you need something to pour this need into, the brush is hardly enough. These words you think (you write, you read) are not enough.
The bar isn't too rowdy, it's a calm place that gets regulars from the various comissions on the Luofu, and knowing that the general himself is a frequenter of the spot (on your demands) when it operates as a day cafe, prevents it from being too dangerous.
Of course, the figure of Arbiter General Jing Yuan crying his eyes out is discombobulating.
"a-yuan—" people clamor before you can get to him, already comforting him, yet he rejects it. If he rejects that will he reject you too? the affection sours and turns bitter, but you take a step forward anyway.
"general please, your partner is surely waiting for you, lets get you some water."
"I've never seen him like this."
"I knew his gap moe was insane but this tops anything the immersia provided."
"you indulge in immersia of the general?… send me the title of it later."
The cloud knights go back and forth like this, not knowing what to do. Fu Xuan is drowning in her cups, ignoring the spectacle as Qingque tries to drag her into a game of celestial jade.
"a-yuan." you walk towards the table where he's seated in an ornate mahogany chair, carved in traditional Xianzhou style.
You kneel in front of him, and drape the robe over his shoulders, and push his hair back, smiling as his teary eyes are in front of you.
"a-yuan."
Pitiful might be the first word most people reach for, then maybe sad. But majestic is what you think of him. He's handsome, you never get him like this. His cheeks are flushed, a soft pink against tanned skin. The tears cling to the scar on his jaw, dribbling down and clinging to his shirt.
His eyes widen when you get close, and he gasps softly, eyes glimmering. "you're…"
you wait, and smile, "we should get you home."
Jing Yuan sniffles, bowing his head down to cover his eyes with his bangs, but he faces you once more, "you're so…beautiful."
The bar is silent. Maybe it's loud. Or that Jing Yuan has this ability to do this to you, make your focus solely on him, make his breath and heart, his voice the only thing you can bother yourself to hear and interpret.
Warmth falls down your neck and back. He's drunk. He doesn't mean that.
"Thank you, General" You whisper, "but you need to drink some water. You'll regret not doing it later." you push a water bottle into his hands, and straighten your back so you're still kneeling, but now closer to him, able to care for him properly now.
Jing Yuan eyes it with skepticism, but drinks from your hand regardless. So trusting of you, is this what makes him so calm? that he trusted and got hurt regardless? His heart which holds so much care and tenderness must be bleeding.
"Would you like to go home?" he clearly doesn't recall who you are in this drunken state, but maybe by treating him gently, like a bird with broken wings, will he let you lead him away?
"It is late. You have work tomorrow." Gently. Because he only deserves that.
His lips wobble, and his eyes fill with tears again. "Will you be there? Tomorrow? How can I care about work when my friends are gone and you're not staying?" his hand reaches for yours and presses it against your lips, "stay the night, please?"
The others laugh.
"I-I'll stay. Okay? are you willing to leave now?"
something so obvious to the cloud knights around the two of you, and yet Jing Yuan, the only one who knows you intimately, is clueless. You almost laugh. Is this what it is like for him to face Dan Heng? To face Ren? and you selfishly want to covet him when they can see him as he is, not the warped version you hold close.
He looks down, no longer crying, but smiling, "okay."
You get him onto his feet, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and guiding him out.
For a rowdy group of soldiers under a lenient commander, they are quiet when you leave, and Fu Xuan mouths her thanks.
No matter how much you wish for it to stop, time will flow endlessly. It won't pause for you. You are happy to see Jing Yuan at any time of the day, beautiful no matter the lighting or weather. It could be pouring rain and you'd find him handsome, you'd want to stay. For only the seasons and cycles to change but never him by your side. But life is ephemeral. One day it will be his obituary in the paper, his body and soul in the hall of karma, and a sword that you or Yanqing will eventually have to push into him.
or would it be you instead? Your body he casts aside, your body he maims like it's nothing? Because to him you're a fleeting pest?
For now, he is warm, his breath sweet on your skin, alive and whole. The grief you carry for a future he may not let you be a part of, for a future you would not be included in. Would such a future bring relief to him?
"you're thinking too hard. pay attention." To him. he whines. Is it that hard? He can make out the familiar scent that he loves…yet it is distant, uncaring.
You're almost halfway to his home, when he pulls you back, "stop ignoring me," the force makes you turn, facing him once more, making you meet with his tear stained face. Again, you only make him cry, nothing else, "please."
"Jing Yuan." You will cry. is that fair to him? "I'll take you home, okay? Yanqing must be waiting, and I've had to ask Dan Heng to reschedule the call for a different night."
"And you?" his grip on your hand tightens. "Your home…"
"I'll be alright." Oh he's adorable, "I' have things to do after I drop you off. Oh. We're here."
You take the keys out of your pocket, a cute lion, rabbit, one white and one yellow cat clink together on their keychain, and a red lucky knot sways in the air. Mimi would—
memories pour in, of course. Mimi would play with a red lucky knot just like that. You would be crafting them in the afternoon and she'd take the string and tear it up, rendering it unusuable. But instead of scolding her youd simply use what you could and buy more from the market, repeating and repeating until the fateful day when she would collapse.
you usher Jing Yuan in, settling him on the steps above the dipped entrance for shoes. You kneel down, untying the laces of his boots, and massage his feet, no doubt tired from the endless errands he runs. the fabric over your knees dirties, mud bleeding into the silks. But it is soft and warm, the dim lighting of the lanterns cascade overs your figure, shrouding you in a gentle light not unlike the moon. cold and beautiful, sides hidden, only the brightest (and the most beautiful) exposed to him.
is it too much to ask for the other sides as well? To see you in full? For the dark side to be exposed and laid bare?
Silently, he watches you. This devotion is… not foreign, no. But it makes the chasm grow. He will miss this when he wakes. You will miss the ease of which it is to open him up.
"are you… are you dating anyone?" He whispers.
you're beautiful. If he can covet you then—
You blink up at him, he really forgot, didn't he?
"I am." you rub his calves, and guide him up, kicking your own shoes off, and giving him some slippers before walking further into his home.
It is silent when you take him into the kitchen, heating up some ginger and goji berry tea with dates.
"hm." Jing Yuan clicks his tongue, golden eyes melting in the pool of tears. "for how long?'"
"a few months, now. We were only talking before and just made it official." It is true.
"oh."
Jing Yuan doesn't sulk. He is grown, so he doesn't sulk. But—
"are you pouting?" you lean your torso forward, bent so you can peak under his bangs.
"I'm not pouting. Absolutely not." he turns his head, leaning against the round table in the corner.
"hm. then I'll talk more about my boyfriend, he's quite handsome," you put your hands over his and trace the firm muscle of his palm and the callouses from writing and wiedling a weapon, "his name is Jing Yuan. with the prettiest pale hair and beautiful amber eyes. He's gentle with me, more than I can ask for. I wonder what he sees sometimes, but as long as its me reflected in those eyes, what else can I do? Im helpless to his whim."
The man in front of you stops breathing for a second, and turns a teary gaze towards you, mouth opening and closing, until he resolves himself to press his lips together and worry the tender skin.
Gears turn and turn, or maybe that's just the large clock in the hallway.
"thats…" his mouth struggles over the words,
And Jing Yuan doesn't sulk. He must emphasize that when you retell this story.
pretty lashes soaked in tears and his hair clinging to his face, he leans down, "that's a horrid joke."
Regardless, he lets himself fall into your arms, pulling you closer and burying his head into your neck, inhaling what remains of the shared scent of incense and soap, bedsheets soaked in sun…
"I'm glad that its me. I would've had to whisk you away." Would he have had to steal you away then? rip you from someone who may have your heart? it's not something he would do, not only would it harm his and Yanqing's reputation, what if you resent him for it? that would be something he cannot bear to witness.
Despite all that, resentment is not something he can easily assosciate with you.
"I'm sure there would've been no need for that regardless. Even if it wasn't me, surely there would've been someone here, waiting for you like this." You whisper.
He clings, hands bruising, not the gentle ones of your lover, but more akin to a younger him you never got to witness, clumsy and uninhibited by restraint; you get crushed against his chest and near absorbed by his scent and presence. Jing Yuan shakes, the tremors only abating when you reach up to pet his hair.
Unaware of what effect you have on him.
"Such a scene wouldn't be the same, wouldn't create the same storm in my heart like this. Don't you think that's unfair? To render your image of me to such a state?"
Your face turns hot, burning down your ears and neck. Jing Yuan isnt such a man, where one's presence in his life can simply be erased. He is emotional at his core, just tempered through time and the unwilling loss of his closest family.
To think you let yourself deny that side of your relationship, how long did he go feeling neglected because of flippant comments like that? how is it fair to him?
"sorry, I'm sorry a-yuan." its hard to look at him, he wouldn't judge you, but the acceptance in his eyes, the warmth he holds for all life is something you can't bear to face. You could whisper your hate and he'd turn to face you, hold your hands and ask what you would like, what would help soothe whatever self-inflicted ache you host. It eats you up knowing he will find you faultless (you see him the same way), knowing he would only bear your remarks and rarely react.
Is it too much to just want him to be happy? you yearn for his honesty, and this was the most you've gotten from him. You crave it. To have him like this, teary eyed and needy, demanding attention. It would make it easier to look at him, knowing his desire was just as twisted as your own. If it is something he can express than your expression of it must be sane.
you reach for that tiny bit of faith.
"I suppose I should thank you." his eyes are wet against the hot skin of your neck, "you felt like that for so long, hm? I couldn't replace you, that's far too harsh."
"I was a fool." you rub circles into his back, the heat from your neck dissipating and leaving behind a hollow cold.
Your ignorance of his heart will be what kills this peace, ends the both of you.
"That's fine. shall we be fools together, then?" watered down, tired and treading through sludge just for a single confirmation.
When he wakes there will be no recollection of this, perhaps for the better. The coiling, selfish desires will never have to resurface, and the careful rhythm of his care can continue, your own pull on his desires will remain. No need to think beyond that instance, however, as he takes you slowly, pulling you into the pile of cushions and the soft, padded futon on the floor, over the bamboo mat. His arms wrap over your hips, his legs between yours. The soft glow of the moon over his face…
"something on my face?"
"nothing. Go to sleep." He refuses to release you from his grasp, and he'll most likely feel the affects of his current state tomorrow, but the stars will continue their cycles, just as the two of you will continue yours.
This morning (noon) I was in the bathroom washing my face while one of my cats was in their litterbox, and I yawned, and I felt very rude for it. like my train of thought was: “oh dear what if she (my 6 month old kitten) thinks I’m bored and want her to hurry up. What if she gets stressed and does something stupid (jump out before she’s ready, etc).” Before it hit me like a wet rag to the face that… she literally doesn’t care. She doesn’t know that humans have assigned another meaning to yawning than just being tired. Maybe she doesn’t even understand that I’m yawning, because my yawning looks different than her’s.
So anyways to me having pets makes you realize daily just how many other meanings humans have given to things and taught to children, to the point where you stop realizing it or think about it too deeply
