"The System would never have let me tell him the truth --" Shen Yuan begins to say, anxious and dismissive in his anxiety -- but then he stops, pulling himself up short like a robed gentleman spying a mud puddle in his path. "But the System isn't here, is it?" he wondered out loud, his gaze sliding over to the demon lord watching his mental progress like a cat crouched beside a mouse hole (or, perhaps, a royal bridegroom awaiting the arrival of his bride).
"What does Binghe think?" he asks, still too diffident by half. "Would he listen, if this teacher tried to tell him all?"
"Answering Shizun: how should this ignorant disciple know? He was made from Shizun's mind, was he not? I only know what Shizun knows," the demon lord answers, so petulant and pouty that despite the danger it still puts half a smile on Shen Yuan's face. Perhaps that's why the faux Binghe immediately unbends enough to add, "I think any version of me would appreciate a chance to speak with Shizun without him immediately trying to run away. This disciple so hates seeing your back."
Any subtext in that remark goes completely over Shen Yuan's head. "I'm sure you do," he says sadly. “Okay…fuck it, come here.” And upon saying this he suddenly stands up and all but throws himself into Luo Binghe’s arms. Nobody is more surprised by this than Binghe himself, but he immediately wraps his arms around Shen Yuan and clutches him close, clinging like he’d like nothing more than to drag the shorter man bodily into his own chest and squeezing until Shen Yuan squeaks.
“I won’t run anymore, okay?” he says, leaning back a little so he can look up into Binghe’s face. “I promise I won’t. I’ll stay and tell Binghe everything, next time I see him.”
The last of Binghe’s composure cracks like an egg. “Shizun –!” And he leans down to bury his face in Shen Yuan’s hair, his own great shoulders shaking with cathartic sobs. And it’s on that image, of the great and terrible demon lord clinging like a child to his old teacher, that the dream finally, finally ends.
Shen Yuan immediately drops Viktor’s hand like a hot brand, his face fiery-red.
no subject
"What does Binghe think?" he asks, still too diffident by half. "Would he listen, if this teacher tried to tell him all?"
"Answering Shizun: how should this ignorant disciple know? He was made from Shizun's mind, was he not? I only know what Shizun knows," the demon lord answers, so petulant and pouty that despite the danger it still puts half a smile on Shen Yuan's face. Perhaps that's why the faux Binghe immediately unbends enough to add, "I think any version of me would appreciate a chance to speak with Shizun without him immediately trying to run away. This disciple so hates seeing your back."
Any subtext in that remark goes completely over Shen Yuan's head. "I'm sure you do," he says sadly. “Okay…fuck it, come here.” And upon saying this he suddenly stands up and all but throws himself into Luo Binghe’s arms. Nobody is more surprised by this than Binghe himself, but he immediately wraps his arms around Shen Yuan and clutches him close, clinging like he’d like nothing more than to drag the shorter man bodily into his own chest and squeezing until Shen Yuan squeaks.
“I won’t run anymore, okay?” he says, leaning back a little so he can look up into Binghe’s face. “I promise I won’t. I’ll stay and tell Binghe everything, next time I see him.”
The last of Binghe’s composure cracks like an egg. “Shizun –!” And he leans down to bury his face in Shen Yuan’s hair, his own great shoulders shaking with cathartic sobs. And it’s on that image, of the great and terrible demon lord clinging like a child to his old teacher, that the dream finally, finally ends.
Shen Yuan immediately drops Viktor’s hand like a hot brand, his face fiery-red.