Jin Guangyao watches with pained eyes the warmth that had suffused Lan Xichen's face fade and dim, and it breaks something in him to see him hurting, and to know he is the one responsible for that pain. They are hamstrung by their circumstances, and yet--
"Er-ge," he starts again, hesitates, and then grants himself permission, just this once, to reach across the table and rest his hand against Lan Xichen's. It takes tremendous effort to lift his gaze up from where his fingers touch Lan Xichen's hand to meet his eyes, but he does it. Because he's the one who ripped open this wound, and he at least owes his dearest friend this much, and to say it while looking into his eyes.
He purses his lips, then tries again. "Er-ge, if... If things had been different--for you, or for me--if my situation in Jinlintai had not been--" There he has to stop himself and close his eyes, "--what it was." He takes another breath, and if there's a sad, pained little smile at the corners of his mouth, if there's just a touch of unsteadiness in his voice, he can be forgiven that, can't he?
"I mean to say," he murmurs, "that nothing would have given this lowly Meng Yao greater happiness than for you to have expectations of him."
He squeezes Lan Xichen's hand, eyes pained. "Please don't mistake this one's refusal for indifference. Please." It could not be further from the truth.
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"Er-ge," he starts again, hesitates, and then grants himself permission, just this once, to reach across the table and rest his hand against Lan Xichen's. It takes tremendous effort to lift his gaze up from where his fingers touch Lan Xichen's hand to meet his eyes, but he does it. Because he's the one who ripped open this wound, and he at least owes his dearest friend this much, and to say it while looking into his eyes.
He purses his lips, then tries again. "Er-ge, if... If things had been different--for you, or for me--if my situation in Jinlintai had not been--" There he has to stop himself and close his eyes, "--what it was." He takes another breath, and if there's a sad, pained little smile at the corners of his mouth, if there's just a touch of unsteadiness in his voice, he can be forgiven that, can't he?
"I mean to say," he murmurs, "that nothing would have given this lowly Meng Yao greater happiness than for you to have expectations of him."
He squeezes Lan Xichen's hand, eyes pained. "Please don't mistake this one's refusal for indifference. Please." It could not be further from the truth.