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graphic designer wwx AU where he swears to lwj that he& #39;s getting sleep, it& #39;s fine, he can finish our titles and all the extra he inherited from (fucking) wen chao overnight
but the circles under his eyes are only getting darker and lwj heads into the office early on a hunch
but the circles under his eyes are only getting darker and lwj heads into the office early on a hunch
wwx hasn& #39;t left. he& #39;s been overnighting, furiously working on every cover and reprint they lobbed at him after wen chao walked. he& #39;s asleep and shivering under his desk covered only in his bomber jacket. one sneaker is off, somehow.
lwj knows of wwx& #39;s deep fear that he& #39;ll be fired from his dream job and not be able to support a-yuan, even though lwj would never allow it. he is furious like he& #39;s never been before on wwx& #39;s behalf
wwx wakes up on the couch in lwj& #39;s office covered in a warm wool throw and his head on lwj& #39;s lap. lwj is flipping one-handedly through a 2nd pass manuscript and puts one big hand on wwx& #39;s head and keeps him there with no effort at all.
"rest. it& #39;s taken care of," he says, not even looking down, golden wire-frames gently sliding down the bridge of nose.
wwx doesn& #39;t know, then, about lwj& #39;s 8 am purchase of an expensive blanket from the boutique a block away. or his 8:30 am chiding of his staff to check in on wwx
wwx doesn& #39;t know, then, about lwj& #39;s 8 am purchase of an expensive blanket from the boutique a block away. or his 8:30 am chiding of his staff to check in on wwx
he doesn& #39;t know about the 9 to 9:45 am meeting where lwj strong-arms the executive editors of several imprints into leaving wwx the hell alone, and shifting of the reprint work back to the designated junior designers.
he never really will. for now, wwx listens and sleeps.
he never really will. for now, wwx listens and sleeps.
