( Romantic, on any other day. Sweet. Tender. Welcome.

...but he is still unpleasantly, stickily molten, limbs heavy and weighted like molasses. He unpeels himself off the stone floor in increments, then wilts back after.

It feels... cruel to ask more of him, even blessed by blinks of glimpsing Wei Ying's wrist heavily bound. He clings to the leaf as if it were his blanket. )

Leave me to perish.

( He's not moving. )