Work Text:
he's on his back, perfectly flat with his arms beside him laid flat, fingers lightly spread apart because it helps somewhat with the pain but not really.
he's laying there frustrated cause he wants to go back tearing into the faceless asshole who thought his luo binghe was becoming too much but typing got physically painful. his fingers were aching, his left forearm had cold spots and it felt like ice was flowing through his veins. meanwhile his right hand was tingling and aching and it was pain he couldn't even ignore like usual.
shen yuan knew he should have probably taken a break or stopped, at least for 10 minutes, but he was just so in the moment. and he Knew it was gonna hurt later so, really, he has no one to blame but himself.
he can't do anything except lay there until the pain medicine kicks in or the insomnia hits that peak where he's sleep deprived enough that the pain fades away and he's laying there in bed, missing the time he could type without pain as he waits
and feels