Chapter Text
"Hong Lu?"
"Yes?"
"Hong Lu."
"Mhm."
"Why?"
Hong Lu tugs on his robe— coat— whatever he was wearing and Heathcliff feels like bashing him over the head with a bat but he doesn't because he's a very, very reasonable person and he slept well last night.
"Do I look bad in it?" Hong Lu's eyes glisten with a vague desire for validation. Heathcliff blinks. He doubts the guy even knows.
But rather than bad, it's just odd. He's seen Hong Lu in the Lord of Hongyuan's clothes before, sure, but this was different. He was wearing an identity, but right now, it's a costume. Some kind of not really copy-copy.
"S'just— why would you even wear that thing?"
He's never liked that identity.
A Hong Lu that wasn't smiling, one that doused himself in non-stop pretense rather than sincere albeit offensive at times sincerity.
"Mm, I'm doing what people call "cosplay"!"
"What?"
Hong Lu tilts his head.
No, no, stop doing that.
He's shivering, seeing the Lord of Hongyuan's lifeless eyes stare at him as he does this for a split second.
It's way too... strange.
"You're doing cosplay."
"Yes."
"But why?"
"I thought it'd be fun—"
"No, no, why that specifically? You could've just dressed as literally anyone else."
"Um... well."
Hong Lu fiddles with his hands.
"Heathcliff?"
"What?"
"If someone cosplays as an identity, would it still count as cosplay?"
"Of course it's still cosplay, what else would it..."
Heathcliff...
...
Actually, he doesn't know the answer either. It doesn't feel right.
"Cosplay would need you to be different from what you're cosplaying as, right?" Hong Lu mutters and it sounds like there's something more he wants to say.
But he doesn't.
"Uh..."
Screw it!
"T'me, you're different from that guy, so, still cosplay."
"Huh? How so?"
Heathcliff runs his hand through his hair, looking for the right words.
"Maybe he's you, alright, but not the right you, yeah? So different person. It's cosplay."
"Oh... Oh!"
The thinly veiled uncertainty disappears from his face, replaced by understanding. His back straightens, like a burden was lifted from his shoulders.
Heathcliff raises an eyebrow, but doesn't point it out.
"Hurry up and change clothes. Outis'll come yell at us for wastin' time otherwise."
He won't even ask where he got the clothes from in the first place because that's another can of worms he doesn't, he repeats, doesn't. Want to open, lest Hong Lu spills something with a smile that'll surely haunt Heathcliff's dreams.
Erm.
Nightmares.