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There is a certain comfort in learned helplessness.
It took a while to get used to it. Used to the castle-like cage he lives in. Daguanyan is big, almost to a concerning extent— there a countless rooms surrounding him, no matter where he looks, there is no end. But it's precisely because of that infinite space that he is lonely there is loneliness surrounding him.
Even so, he looks to where the light shines brightest; the entirety of Daguanyan could be treated as a cruel joke. Perhaps, because there is so much room, so much space, there is no need to stick close to anyone, no way to be hurt. Not anymore.
If his grandmother tells him to sit and look pretty, he will do so.
If he is told to shut his mouth and act like the jade they all worship, he will do so. He will let them take, and take, and take until he has nothing left to offer, and even then, they will still take. The hands crawling over his skin. Grabbing at everything they could, on his clothes, everywhere.
It is as they command.
"Hong Lu?"
Dante's worried ticking fills his ears. He smiles.
There is no need to act.
Just witness.
"I'm sorry. I'll be there."
___
When night time comes, Hong Lu finds himself approaching Heathcliff, just out of curiosity. Or out of desperation to validate this disgusting feeling of his.
"Heathcliff?"
He receives nothing but a glance.
"Your family hurt you, too, didn't they?"
"What?" He frowns.
"Your family. Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it so—"
He scoffs. "'S fine. Nothing but a bunch of bruises and shit. There were broken bones here and there, but nothin' I can't handle."
"Mm, I see. Did they ever..." Hong Lu clicks his tongue, his Adam's apple bobs and trembles. "Um, I wonder how I should phrase this..."
"You don't have to sugarcoat anything. Just say it."
"Yeah. Did they ever, ah," His eyes dart somewhere else, "Touch you?" Hong Lu looks down at the floor.
"'Course they have, you daft? How else're they supposed to—" Heathcliff's eyes trail down to where Hong Lu was holding onto his suit pants tightly. He wants to squirm. Between fight or flight, his body chooses to freeze. Like that day.
Heathcliff doesn't know what to say. He just feels something. Something clog his chest, and he feels so, so fucking sick.
"I mean, I'm lucky," Hong Lu laughs, and by the script, Heathcliff's supposed to sigh, get annoyed and leave it at that but he can't. He just feels disgust rooting itself in his chest and his gut twisting and turning.
"I just have to wash it off and be done with it. There's no traces." Hong Lu smiles wider and wider like he's trying to make up for something he's lost. "It's not there anymore."
"Do you think," He tries to keep his voice leveled, "That– that- that thing that happened to you was all just a cruel joke?"
Of course he doesn't, he's just happy that it was him. He was there. If he wasn't, what would've happened to Xichun? Sweet, bright, brilliant little Xichun. Her light would've been smothered before it had time to burn.
And such a thing is too, too painful for him to think about.
"Then why are you treating it like it is?"
"I'm—"
Heathcliff lunges and his hand is on his collar before he even realizes it. Hong Lu feels like jelly under his grip. He doesn't resist, and it angers Heathcliff even more.
(Ironically, Hong Lu thinks that he's only felt the safest now, when Heathcliff's iron grip almost strangling him. He tries to hurt, but he's gentle.)
"Be mad. Be angry, the fuck are you smiling for, you—"
But at the same time, he understands. It's all the same hurt, at the hands of those who should've been their protector— but it's also so, so different. Because Heathcliff's family hurt, they do, but not in the way Hong Lu's leave traces only in places no one shouldn't and can't see. His family hits, steals, hurts, laugh at his face, but they never did that to him. And Where Heathcliff had Nelly, Hong Lu— Baoyu had Xiren. And it wasn't enough. It never was.
What was Baoyu supposed to do? In a place where no one is your friend, who can he trust, when anyone he asks for help from can just disappear without a fucking trace?
"Scream or something. Fucking cry. Why— just why are you—" He inhales sharply.
He's just so angry, filled with rage that has nowhere to go.
"It's okay, Heathcliff," Hong Lu's hand is in his hair, like a man petting his dog, "It's all in the past, now," His eyes are glazed over, looking somewhere beyond Heathcliff.
Hong Lu drops down to the floor. Heathcliff runs a hand through his hair.
"Family," He doesn't know what the word quite means, yet, but he knows what it isn't. "They don't hurt. They don't steal. And they definitely..." He lowers himself, slowly, so he can meet Hong Lu's eyes properly. "They definitely don't touch you. Like that. Not ever, jackass."
Hong Lu blinks, slowly, and there's a pause for a second or two— Heathcliff's lost count. His voice sounds distant, a little in denial.
"...I know."
He's breathless. He doesn't know what he expected. He's got the answer spelled to his face but he doesn't. Doesn't get it, still.
"Don't. Don't even try to call those bastards your family."