Chapter Text
"...Heathcliff?"
He's dressed a little weird. But that's fine. Fine, isn't it? Maybe it's some strange cosplay— or not, because didn't Heathcliff dress like that back then? He even chopped off his hair. It brings back Hong Lu to their old days, but that's not the point.
What a fun thing to wake up to.
Truth be told, Hong Lu does not know where he is. He's just about ready to take off and run away, but Heathcliff is here, and Heathcliff must be safe, so he won't and he'll stay and ask questions that Heathcliff will (probably) answer truthfully.
"...We're at the bus, Mephisto-something or whatever. Where'd ya think, mate?"
Mephistopheles?
The word appears in his mind, as briefly as it was, he knows it was there. But the memory isn't his, and he doesn't like that. It's his mind. His brain. One of the only things he has left that isn't theirs—
"Hahah— where?"
"Did that goon hit ya too hard or what?"
He doesn't know where he is. He doesn't know what's happening, he's not at the office, Sinclair is nowhere, and all that's left is—
Heathcliff.
And him.
He looks at himself, and only now he finds out that he's not even wearing the same clothes from yesterday. He's wearing a suit, yes, but it's not his and— and— does his face even look the same? Why is his hair so long? Didn't he cut it already? Does Heathcliff even recognize him?
Who is he right now?
"Oi. You look a little pale there. The hell?" And, there— he finds blood caked up on his face after he'd dragged his hand across his face without knowing, and now everything's just worse
"Heathcliff. You're Heathcliff?" But what if he isn't? He talks the same, he looks the part, but ultimately they're different—
"I'm..."
"Heathcliff" shakes his head.
It's not just— it's just not him. But it's him at the same time. Does that make sense? How does that make sense?
"I am Heathcliff."
"I... then, ah, who am I?"
Who is this? Who are you looking at, who do you see?
There's a big difference and Hong Lu wants to be responsible and on the same page so he has to know or else he might just—
"Breathe, lass, you're— you're not breathin' properly. You're Hong Lu." He stutters slightly, "Who else?"
"Mm, yes, I'm—" He sighs shakily, "Very sorry."
"...You don't need to apologize for that."
"Sorry. Sorry."
Heathcliff sighs, but doesn't say anything else.
Yeah. That's. That's something he'd do. The similarities are there, existing enough that Hong Lu can bridge the gap and fill the cracks with resin so that he could imagine that he's back at the office again, with the Heathcliff and Sinclair he knows.
His ears registers the sound of sniffling— is that coming from him?
Or this body he doesn't recognize?
Heathcliff has a strange expression on his face, the type if expression where he looks rather emotionally constipated from not being able to say what he wants. Hong Lu laughs. Tries to, actually, but his throat disobeys and constricts.
"What's with that expression, Heathcliff?" He forces out anyway.
"It's called being worried, ever heard of that, moron?"
"I've heard of it," He sang cheerfully. Well, the closest thing to cheerful for a person who's probably about to tip over the edge.
He jokes still, even as his body— this body continues trying to break down into full panic, and, honestly, it's just inconvenient. Mildly inconvenient at worst.
"Enough of the damn jokes, you look like your 'bout to start vomitin' on the floor. Let's go back to the bus, maybe that woman can figure out whats wrong with you."
So many things, Heathcliff. There's so many things wrong that you don't even know.
"Oh, really?"
Heathcliff has his arm around his back, and he doesn't know what to feel because his body recognizes it as Heathcliff but he can't and he doesn't know why and now he's just stuck in between. And it's frustrating.
He needs to knock some sense into himself, he's not the Full-Stop office's representative for nothing.
"I can walk on my own."
Heathcliff stops, but his arm's still around him.
Hong Lu is given an expression that he's seen time and time again and dubbed lovingly the "Are You Sure 'Bout That, Mate?" face.
"...I think."
He finishes.
Heathcliff clicks his tongue, but doesn't let go of him.
Hong Lu laughs.
He's not going home any time soon, is he?