There are things Huaisang has put away, for his own sake; things to be packed neatly into the back of his mind and papered over with something else, ignored, left to rot there for all he cares, lest he revisit them and have to do something about them. The truth about Mingjue is one such thing, buried so deeply these days that Huaisang has yet to realize how lucky he is that the city has not seen fit to expose the depths of his knowledge to anyone who might have, say, opinions and reactions to that kind of thing. It's back there somewhere; when it pokes out of the cracks and his temper flares he pushes it back, and he's gotten quite good at it.
There are things he's put away, for everyone's benefit. The things the city is showing to everyone - his grief, his most personal moments of upset and loss and failure - are not among them; so what, ultimately, if someone witnesses the way he'd wept over a tomb that didn't even contain Mingjue's body? So what if someone bears witness to the things Mingjue destroyed, to the raw and untamed grief that has wracked at Huaisang's whole being for this long? It will take more than that to put any black spot of shame on his heart— he has no idea where it would fit, besides; in the corner, with his rage, or in the great cavern, with his grief?
It doesn't matter. He sits here now and feels nothing at all that someone has seen him like that, in the tomb, until Xichen's voice cuts through to the bone, his hand on Huaisang's shoulder a coffin lid in and of itself.
Huaisang puts a lot of things away. One thing is this: Lan Xichen did nothing, and in so doing, stood back and frowned prettily while the events that led to Huaisang's afternoon in the tomb played out. Lan Xichen has already left him alone with his grief plenty of times.
It's not fair of him, he knows, but it's not fair of anyone else to take his brother from him, and he can think of nothing he wants less than to be treated softly and served tea, right this second.
But. Fine.
"I'm not thirsty," he says, because he is not, but, "I'll sit with er-ge while er-ge has tea, though."
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deercountry2022-11-23 11:23 am
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There are things he's put away, for everyone's benefit. The things the city is showing to everyone - his grief, his most personal moments of upset and loss and failure - are not among them; so what, ultimately, if someone witnesses the way he'd wept over a tomb that didn't even contain Mingjue's body? So what if someone bears witness to the things Mingjue destroyed, to the raw and untamed grief that has wracked at Huaisang's whole being for this long? It will take more than that to put any black spot of shame on his heart— he has no idea where it would fit, besides; in the corner, with his rage, or in the great cavern, with his grief?
It doesn't matter. He sits here now and feels nothing at all that someone has seen him like that, in the tomb, until Xichen's voice cuts through to the bone, his hand on Huaisang's shoulder a coffin lid in and of itself.
Huaisang puts a lot of things away. One thing is this: Lan Xichen did nothing, and in so doing, stood back and frowned prettily while the events that led to Huaisang's afternoon in the tomb played out. Lan Xichen has already left him alone with his grief plenty of times.
It's not fair of him, he knows, but it's not fair of anyone else to take his brother from him, and he can think of nothing he wants less than to be treated softly and served tea, right this second.
But. Fine.
"I'm not thirsty," he says, because he is not, but, "I'll sit with er-ge while er-ge has tea, though."