[ to be buried by your hands, it would not be such a terrible thing - yi sang says this like it's a deliberated truth. all of yi sang's truths are like this. this is why hong lu likes listening to them so much - because every single truth that yi sang has ever come up with has been hard-won. there had been nine members of that little group once upon a time. hong lu doesn't know how it feels to lose those that you love and care about. but he understands how yi sang felt to lose those that you love and care about. yi sang loved that little group in such a way that it made hong lu fall in love a little too, to want a piece of it, just a bite of it, what it must be like to hold something so dear that you tore your wings to shreds in the aftermath. hong lu would like wings. he would like to tear out his own feathers, he would like to make a bed of it and and then show yi sang, and see what he makes of it.
it is, in fact, the first time that anyone has attributed anything positive to hong lu's hands. his hand, currently held around yi sang's, slowly shifts. the gesture is that of faint wonder, of a kind of faithless worship - hong lu believes in nothing, but if yi sang belives in it, then hong lu will believe in yi sang's belief. yi sang turns to him, and hong lu mirrors the motion. another new thought, hong lu thinks. another one that he has never considered, amongst so many thoughts never considered: that there had ever been an option for hong lu to join him.
hong lu smiles. there's a glimmer there along the cyan of his eye. the glimmer most native to a human eye is a tear. ]
It'll have to be a grave large enough for two. And I'm a little taller than you, too. [ hong lu considers this. ] I'd rather bury you first. Then, I can dig you up when I have a question, or I have something I need to tell you, or if there's something you need to do. I'll wake you up, and when you need to go back into the grave, I'll bury you again.
And when I've seen everything that there is to see and I've grown bored, I'll slip in next to you in the grave and bury myself there. I won't tell anyone where our grave is. I don't want anyone to disturb us. It'll be nice. [ hong lu says, and laughs. ] What do you think, Yi Sang? Would it be fun, to be buried with me?
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it is, in fact, the first time that anyone has attributed anything positive to hong lu's hands. his hand, currently held around yi sang's, slowly shifts. the gesture is that of faint wonder, of a kind of faithless worship - hong lu believes in nothing, but if yi sang belives in it, then hong lu will believe in yi sang's belief. yi sang turns to him, and hong lu mirrors the motion. another new thought, hong lu thinks. another one that he has never considered, amongst so many thoughts never considered: that there had ever been an option for hong lu to join him.
hong lu smiles. there's a glimmer there along the cyan of his eye. the glimmer most native to a human eye is a tear. ]
It'll have to be a grave large enough for two. And I'm a little taller than you, too. [ hong lu considers this. ] I'd rather bury you first. Then, I can dig you up when I have a question, or I have something I need to tell you, or if there's something you need to do. I'll wake you up, and when you need to go back into the grave, I'll bury you again.
And when I've seen everything that there is to see and I've grown bored, I'll slip in next to you in the grave and bury myself there. I won't tell anyone where our grave is. I don't want anyone to disturb us. It'll be nice. [ hong lu says, and laughs. ] What do you think, Yi Sang? Would it be fun, to be buried with me?