[‘why though?’ ‘i don't like it!’ ‘this hurts,’ are all things sizhui considers saying, but he isn't a young child anymore and every single thing sounds far too petulant for his liking.
so, he lets lan wangji hold his face instead, momentarily lifting both hands to wipe his eyes then lowering them and circling his father's middle again after he's tugged back in. sizhui's grip is vice-like, his pitiful mewling incessant, mostly because he knows he's allowed this, but also because it truly does hurt in an achingly physical way.]
[ He wouldn't allow Sizhui to act like this under normal circumstances. As a Lan, he shouldn't allow him under extraordinary circumstances. But, he knows exactly how this feels, and he's always been soft for Sizhui.
He just holds his son, and rubs his back, offers him nothing else unless it's asked of him. He just waits for Sizhui to cry out his heart, and so they can pick up the pieces after. ]
[it's good, soft and comforting and exactly what he needs until he manages calming back down again. he takes a few slow, measured breaths, exhales steadily then withdraws just enough to upturn his attention so he can ask,] Is it okay if we sit down?
[because his legs sort of feel like they're going to give out if they don't, which would be truly embarrassing (and another unnecessary thing they'd have to worry about).]
[ He finds them a spot where there is a place to sit and they can just chat - or Sizhui can tell his baba about his heartache and baba will try his best to find the right words to say. ]
Thank you... [he isn't going to cry again, he's not— at least not until lan wangji has found them a spot and they're sitting, which is when more tears instantly start welling up, but he desperately fights them back, sniffles, then swallows hard before reaching into the innermost layer of his robes to remove the necklace there.
sizhui carefully holds up the tiny glass globe filled with (somehow) still smoldering embers, corked at the top to keep them inside and decorated with a couple of black-red feathers.]
This is— It's— [a pause, a deep breath that's then exhaled in a shaky sigh and he continues,] It's all that was left.
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so, he lets lan wangji hold his face instead, momentarily lifting both hands to wipe his eyes then lowering them and circling his father's middle again after he's tugged back in. sizhui's grip is vice-like, his pitiful mewling incessant, mostly because he knows he's allowed this, but also because it truly does hurt in an achingly physical way.]
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He just holds his son, and rubs his back, offers him nothing else unless it's asked of him. He just waits for Sizhui to cry out his heart, and so they can pick up the pieces after. ]
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[because his legs sort of feel like they're going to give out if they don't, which would be truly embarrassing (and another unnecessary thing they'd have to worry about).]
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[ He finds them a spot where there is a place to sit and they can just chat - or Sizhui can tell his baba about his heartache and baba will try his best to find the right words to say. ]
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sizhui carefully holds up the tiny glass globe filled with (somehow) still smoldering embers, corked at the top to keep them inside and decorated with a couple of black-red feathers.]
This is— It's— [a pause, a deep breath that's then exhaled in a shaky sigh and he continues,] It's all that was left.