#── * rel. / lan wangji : our knives drawn as sharp as we were in love / youthslost.

[ghcstchild-a]

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆: @youthslost // LAN WANGJI

❝ you are my person, i know that. i should have said it before. ❞

IT'S QUIET TONIGHT, almost enough to make him smile at the stupidity of his own thoughts — the quiet room is quiet for once. Fingers trace invisible shapes on his husband's skin, a gentle, loving kiss placed upon his shoulder before Wei Wuxian rests his head upon it, eyelids heavy as he allows himself to be drawn into the tranquility of a heartbeat and get lost in it. It's only for a moment that a frown knits his brows together, a fleeting ache grazing his own heart, the before. ❝ Lan Zhan, ❞ comes as a drowsy half-whisper. It's too warm, too safe here like this — he smiles again, a soft, knowing smile that always says 'I am yours, I will stay yours forever'.

❝ I wouldn't have listened, back then, ❞ a compromise, a stalemate — his youth was a murder scene, a boy in shambles didn't have what it takes to hear, to understand. He would have been terrified before, to hold something so tragic in his arms and let it shatter, to taint something so beautiful with his darkness and filth. He was terrified of many things, back then. But some things are just meant to be, as if fate tied a red thread around his finger and then tucked the other end of it around Lan Zhan's, while they were too busy fighting to even notice.

An elbow digs into the sheets, propping him up just enough to chase the drowsiness away to look at his beloved. And the sight tugs at the corners of his lips with yet another smile — even as a child, Wei Wuxian didn't use to be so terrible at this, now it feels like he couldn't hold back a smile at the very idea of Lan Wangji, as if it was something holy. Fingers glide softly over his cheek, following the overwhelming desire to touch, to never be apart again, not even for a second. The forehead ribbon finds a home wrapped around his wrist for the night, a reminder of not only his body but his heart being held too, he'll give it back in the morning, he always gives it back yet doesn't feel like parting with it, a treasure, the most prized trophy he never really had to win. ❝ I think I was meant to be yours since the day we met. I still am. The past doesn't matter anymore. ❞

[ghcstchild-a]

@youthslost

[ghcstchild-a]

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆: @youthslost // LAN WANGJI

❝  i would do anything for you.  all my lines and rules.  they mean nothing when it comes to you.  i'd cross and break them all just to make you happy.  ❞

HE NUZZLES COMFORTABLY in the crook of his husband's neck to hide away from the sun — sandalwood and serenity, the best place to be right now, when the world finally stops spinning and burning. Armed with nothing but devotion and a warm smile, he memorizes it — the words, every time Lan Zhan says something, every time he smiles, every confession that doesn't really need to . ❝ Anything? ❞ he pulls away, leaving a few gentle, albeit playful kisses in his wake, alongside his jawline.

The urge to tug at the other's sleeve again and tease him endlessly is irresistible — how far could he have gone in his pursuit of 'anything'? How many things could he have craved, before all this? If Wei Wuxian wished for the world at his feet, or the moon in his hands, if he truly wanted to see every rule on the wall of discipline broken without remorse (but oh, they already were), if he became what was always assumed of him, would Lan Wangji still be this relentless?

But the devilish little flame in his eyes flickers. He has no use for the world unless it's by his husband's side, he has no desire for the moon unless they can watch it wane again and again together. 'I love you', his childish smirk says, 'rules and lines and all.'

( 'And I'm happy as I am now, with you being... you.' )

❝ Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! I have an idea, ❞ he grins, fingers wrapped around the other's hand, pulling him in the direction unknown, a spot amidst the trees where they could remain unseen. It worked in the past, too many times to count, and a few more when Lan Wangji got accidentally drunk and longed for a change of perspective. A hand drops as Wei Wuxian takes a few small steps to back away, gaze still fixed on the other with mischievous adoration. ❝ If you catch me, I'll let you do anything you want with me. ❞

[ghcstchild-a]

SHE DOESN'T LEAVE until he's begged more fruit out of her, and that's all it boils down to, a girl that won't even become a memory, he'll forget her face in the morning and her name will forever remain a mystery he doesn't long to uncover. But leaving makes it feel more futile somehow. As if it could still mean something, as long as he waits. Fingertips brush over the grass, getting cold now but it was only yesterday that they lay here, that they touched, that Lan Zhan looked at him like he was the sun, but oh, one can only gaze at the sun for so long before it becomes unbearable.

The second jade of Lan is an exquisite and masterful liar.

The last thing he wants right now is to be pestered with question, this is a shame that Wei Wuxian will have to learn to live with first, before giving voice to it. He doesn't need this, not right now. It doesn't really leave a place for him to be — should he have waited longer? (for a few minutes, he's contemplated this, staying under the willow tree indefinitely, locked in the permanent state of being, and waiting, as if some miracle could resolve this, as if he could catch a familiar glimpse of white and blue in the shadow of the tree).

And that's how the bottle is opened, the one he promised to his friends, again, and failed to deliver, again. It was meant to be fun, but what he craves now is not the joyful tipsiness of a few drinks, but something more sombre. To keep his marble boy out of his mind, to stop waiting entirely, to stop the racing of his thoughts.

( he lied, he lied, how could he lie with someone else's heart placed into his hands? it's not shattered now. he expected it to be, and yet it isn't, nothing tears, the pain that stabs at his chest is dull, tugging, it pulls and pulls and it feels like drowning. it's just hollow. he must have misinterpreted it. a stupid wreck of a boy who mistook kindness for fondness ).

Wei Wuxian chooses to settle on the rooftop, half-hoping to get caught. Lan Qiren would kick him out this time, save him the embarrassment of having to be the bad influence again, or facing Lan Wangji ever again. He felt wanted, under that golden gaze. But now, he shouldn't be seen at all. Even the ever-vigilant Lans are nowhere to be found at this hour, or maybe, the one time he prays for them to end this misery, they choose to show benevolence.

When exhaustion finally creeps in, the last thing he thinks of is that he wants to see shijie.

He does come back to their shared quarters in the morning, waiting (waiting, always that damn waiting) for the perfect opening, when Jiang Cheng is in a rush and won't have the time to give him a lecture. But something softens in his shidi's eyes. Something breaks, as if in relief, and Wei Wuxian thinks of shijie again. Chasing something unattainable was a stupid idea. He wants to go home. He wants to laugh with the junior disciples again and practice archery until his fingers bleed. He wants to marvel at moonbeams on the waters of lakes without remembering that dream. Today, however, he tumbles onto the bed, worn out, a liar who's learned from the best talking about not feeling well. He must've gotten sick, he should've known better, dressed warmer for a night out. And so, his seat in the lanshi remains empty.

lan wangji should have made some sort of excuse, because this meeting with his shufu is going on entirely too long. he tries to listen, but the longer the man talks the more distracted lan wangji grows. wei ying is waiting for him. golden eyes flick from his uncle, to the burning stick of incense, to the door and back again. over and over. until finally lan qiren slams his hand on the table in front of him.

“ wangji! if you are not going to listen, then get out! ”

the young boy takes this as permission even if he knows it isn't and bows to his uncle and rushes out. the calls of his name fall on deaf ears – wei ying is waiting for him.

bichen carries him down the mountain at a frankly ridiculous speed. he will surely be exhausted after, but it doesn't matter. he just wants to see wei ying. the words he wants to say all jumble together in his mind as he goes, thoughts flowing past like the wind in his hair.

wei ying, i am sorry. i was inappropriate. wei ying, nobody has touched me like that. wei ying, do you feel it too? wei ying, i lo-

his feet touch the ground. bichen is at his side. the willow tree is in sight, and there are two silhouettes below. it does not make any sense. that voice carries to his ears and his stomach lurches. another step and he can make out the shape of the wine jar in his hand — so he was going to drink with her. another step and he can see the smile on his face, not unlike the one that had been directed to him a day earlier. but now it is not for him, but for a charming young guniang who smiles bashfully in return.

it feels as though his ribs are caving in as it dawns on him; he is too late. or perhaps not too late at all — perhaps wei ying wanted him to see this. that he was nothing if not replaceable, that none of it meant anything at all.

bichen is unsheathed. the sky rushes past him once again, the opposite direction this time. it is unclear how fast he is going or how long it takes him to return home. he is unaware of his surroundings entirely until bichen lowers him down, taking mercy on his exhausted core. his feet take him the rest of the way.

lan xichen is there outside his quarters when he returns, looking concerned. shufu must have told him of his indiscretion. the last thing he wants is a lecture from his brother when he can hardly hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears. and so he walks past him, yanking his arm away when xichen tries to reach for him. if a stray tear flies off his face with the movement, neither mention it.

“ i am fine. do not bother me. ”

the doors slam shut with a flick of the wrist, and lan wangji collapses on his bed.

why would you do something so stupid? why would you do something so stupid? why would you do something so stupid?

he is in the exact same position in the morning when his brother tries again, knocking on his door. lan xichen asks no questions when he is told he isn't feeling well, only tells him he will check on him later.

[ghcstchild-a]

HOW CRUEL IT MUST BE, how easily he ripped away something so sacred, having seen the unrestrained Lan Zhan before, though not by design. A sight that was not meant for him to behold. He'll have to treasure it now, but there's something else in the golden gaze, something that makes him shiver with a bittersweet echo of longing: could it really be?—

False hopes blossom quickly and fade sharp as a blade — it cannot be his fault that his heart is so childlike, so fallible, so eager to mould itself again from all those shattered pieces only to break once more. And yet, despite the bravery of his heart, Wei Wuxian fears the hollow sight of rejection in the other's eyes. As if one time wasn't enough. As if it's ever a good idea, to fracture the shallow peace when they cannot even escape this predicament. There's nowhere to run.

And the warmth of a small fire won't last too long. The last time they say each other, the world lay at their feet, ready to be conquered, ready to be adored. These days, all the warmth they're dealt are the embers of war. In a couple of days, their strength will begin to run out. If they are to die, he would rather die knowing, but when he finds the courage to breathe again, the words elude him. And they could just stay like this for a while, since there's nothing else to do. He's not too close, allowing some privacy and offering the comfort of presence at the same time, but before he knows it, the violent chill of the cave gives in. It recedes with the dying fire, his outer robes dried and wrapped around Lan Wangji's frame like a blanket. Before he knows it, it feels warmer, and his head rests on the other's shoulder as he drifts into restless sleep.

When he wakes up, they are apart again. It's impossible to keep track of time in this place. An eternity could've passed without them noticing. He never realized he'd miss the sun so much, so soon, but the throbbing pain of the burn is not as potent now, until Wei Wuxian moves, at least. He'll have to move, if they don't want to wait for death and do nothing.

❝ We have to kill that thing. ❞

it does not make sense to him, the acidity in the others voice. is it so hard to believe that even a statue of jade could have such a person? that despite his cold exterior, he, too, might long for connection?

“ only in the presence of the one your heart belongs to, can you allow yourself to be free of restraint. ” he says, meeting wei wuxian's eyes. do you understand, wei ying? what it is that i am allowing, and what i am saying by allowing it?

he shuts his eyes, focuses on the dull throb in his leg to ground him. there is no telling how long the two of them will be stuck here. there is no guarantee they will make it out at all. he should not fixate on such things. not when the world outside is crumbling to dust. not when the looming war hangs over them like a phantom.

“ a home can be rebuilt. ” but his father, but xiongzhang... he can only hope shufu is alright. that there will still be something left for him, if he were to escape this cave. that the wen's will not have ripped everything from him. if jiang cheng is their best hope, then he can only pray there is a home for wei ying to return to, as well. he spares a glance at wei wuxian then, keeping his gaze fixed on him when he sees the other's eyes are closed. the last time they were alone like this...

the last time they were alone like this, the world was different.

“ thank you. ” his voice has dropped to a whisper as well, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace that has settled. what exactly he is thanking him for is left unsaid. “ ...wei ying is very knowledgable on other sect's practices. i assumed — and i should not have. i apologise, as well. ”

[ghcstchild-a]

HOURS PASS IN A HAZE, he couldn't tell how many incense sticks should turn to ashes before it's time, but the swelling in his chest doesn't go away. It grows and grows, meridians throbbing with a mix of anticipation and anxiety — truthfully, there are not many options that he could envisage. Lan Zhan won't bother. Maybe it was a terrible idea from the start. Maybe they should've returned to the Cloud Recesses the second alcohol came into play, maybe it was Wei Wuxian's fault all along, for taking advantage. Lan Zhan won't even look at him now, nor acknowledge his presence. And he pictures that drawing now, crumpled and tossed aside. Some people just never learn from their mistakes.

His is a different kind of loneliness, and yet it would recognize a sister in an instant. The eagerness to take a deep dive without holding his breath first, could he truly be so... easy? So bold, telling tales of all the things he craved without any words, without even processing them first? Jiang Cheng says, 'what the actual fuck?' and he agrees. He wishes to know, too. This time, he promises to buy some wine and peanuts, to catch up with his friends at last, leaving the real reason for a rushed outing unmentioned, but of course, it would take less than a couple of minutes for Nie Huaisang to figure it out.

And so he ventures outside the Cloud Recesses once more. It's not too close, but it's a spot they could call theirs — Wei Wuxian might learn to call it the spot where he got his heart broken for the third time today, so he does buy the wine. And he waits.

He waits until it's time (it's one of the rules, after all, even though they don't really apply outside the Lan Sect territory, not to be late). The clouds turn a peculiar shade of pale, he watches as they float aimlessly, as the patches of blue in their cracks darken. The sinking feeling in his chest grows stronger, it gnaws, it doesn't feel like leaving, and so he waits some more. The people walk on the other side of the narrow stream, the streets always bustle at this hour. He suddenly remembers that he skipped breakfast, and last night's dinner was a tragedy.

❝ She's not coming, gongzi! ❞ calls a lively, teasing voice, and when he turns his head, he sees a maiden carrying a basket of loquats. The girl is smiling, and he cannot resist smiling back, if merely out of habit, because she is also incredibly on point with that deduction. Well, one minor detail aside. He's not coming. It should've dawned on him about an hour ago, and yet this fool's hope still lingered against all odds. Maybe he just felt stupid after a while, maybe it only made sense to keep waiting until it's dark, so that there's something to shove in the hollow space between the ribs. Fading sunlight doesn't make her more beautiful, he notices. She is, in fact, quite plain, but the brightness of her smile adorns that plainness like an exquisite jewel.

❝ Spare a loquat for this desperate fool, then? ❞ head tilts slightly, he smiles again, teases back, where else is he supposed to put all that yearning now anyway? The guniang laughs softly, and he catches the fruit, sinking his teeth into it almost immediately. It's ripe and sweet. It makes him want to scream.

Until finally, he gives up waiting.

it takes more restraint than he would like to admit to ignore wei ying. the sound of his name in the other's voice makes his stomach flip and he drives his finger nails into his palm just to ground himself, to keep himself from turning to see, to keep himself from indulging. the calls cease sooner than he would have expected, and he should feel relieved. and yet he misses it, longs to hear his name called in that sweet honey tone again and again.

he should have known wei ying would give up. lan wangji is boring — wei ying had said it himself. it was only a matter of time.

he stews in this pit of insecurity and self pity for the remainder of the class, tuning out his shufu entirely. it isn't proper, but it isn't as though he's learning anything new sitting here. not about cultivation, anyway.

when the class is finally dismissed, he spares no time collecting his things to rush out. the urge to meditate, to play guqin, to do anything to get his mind off the happenings of the day before are building, but the sudden addition on his desk brings him pause. turning, he sees nothing but the swaying of a ponytail. his heart aches.

it isn't until he is back at the jingshi that he dares to open the note, his fingers shaking as he does. the shaking only increases as eyes scan the page, taking in the familiar sight. a reminder that it was real, those memories he had spent the day shoving down. that he wished to be some sort of drunken illusion. it was real, and wei ying remembers it, too.

he isn't going to meet him. he can't. he can only imagine what the other will say. the rejection that will pass his lips, the retraction of whatever friendship they'd almost fostered. or perhaps the tables will turn, and it will be wei ying telling him to get lost. the boy was shameless, sure, but hadn't lan wangji been even moreso ? throwing himself at him, draping over him like some sort of desperate maiden. so brazen, so immodest...

but, wei ying hadn't pushed him away, not once did he look at lan zhan with anything other than fondness. brave enough to touch the second jade, to hold him so gently as though he might break. and his voice this morning hadn't sounded particularly angry...

what if wei ying also felt... whatever this is ? he hadn't been nearly as drunk, so it wasn't as though he was really acting so unlike himself. and one particular touch lingers in his mind — the gentle brushing of his lip, almost as if he had wanted to.... to...

he will go. lan wangji will rebuild his pride brick by brick if it means there is a possibility of hearing wei ying say he felt it too.

but of course, the universe had never been so kind. there are disciples waiting outside his door, waiting to take him to see shufu. he is concerned you missed breakfast, they say. it is almost time to meet wei ying, but... the other boy is not exactly punctual himself, so perhaps he can afford to be a little late, surely. he will just quell his uncle's worries and then head out.

wei ying, i am coming. please wait for me.

[ghcstchild-a]

He doesn’t remember when and how he’s managed to fall asleep, but in his dream, they’re back in the Lotus Pier, and moonbeams spill in ripples over the surface of a lake. The thick stem of a lotus pod snaps under his touch, swift fingers digging into its flesh, then, to pick out the seeds and peel a few, and place one between the other’s lips as he smiles. But it only takes a moment for his own lips to follow suit, and the flower is forgotten, floating in the waters where they have waded knee-deep. And it tastes like a summer night. It tastes like fireworks and spice...

❝ Wei Wuxian! ❞ a voice bellows, distorted, tearing the perfect image apart and leaving nothing but a lingering (and excruciating) pain in the neck and a sour aftertaste in his mouth. Jiang Cheng stares at his uncomfortable position, waiting for an explanation. His bedsheets smell like sandalwood now. His pillow still bears the scent after Lan Zhan left. 

Of course he left. All he can manage now is a soft groan mixing pain, exhaustion and sheer embarrassment. The first heartbreak of the day (they're almost late for lectures!) shapes itself like so many things in Wei Wuxian's life: it feels worse than it looks. Such an unfortunate habit he has, for making a fool of himself, though he doesn't even bother trying to explain all this, he might need to, later. He can feel Nie Huaisang's curiosity burn through his agonized neck as they enter the lanshi.

Out of many things that he's learned during his time here, he will take two to his grave. The first one is that everything he used to know about love is utterly useless and not even true. Poetry spilled lies in ink and flowery words, young maidens giggled and blushed at the mere mention of it, but today, it seems that love is a synonym of confusion. Of perturbation.

❝ Lan Zhan, ❞ comes a tentative whisper, as he chooses to linger by the other's seat for a minute while there's still time before the old man starts the lecture. He looks immaculate once again, as if everything that happened yesterday was nothing more than a hazy dream, a figment of Wei Wuxian's twisted imagination. He looks away but the sight of him is breathtaking. ❝ Lan Zhan! ❞ he beckons again, a little louder, and then it dawns on him.

'Wei Ying is more beautiful. A song that I have never heard. I want to learn.'

The second thing he learns about love is that he is stupidly, ineffably, irrevocably in it. And there lies the second heartbreak of today.

Shouldn't he have known better? Isn't this exactly what he expected?

But he does it again. He makes a fool of himself, ignoring the dull muttering of Lan Qiren, something he already knows — too much, too little — and instead of taking notes, he draws. The willow tree, a river bank, and not a silhouette in sight, as if this little reminder is a test. As if he needs to make sure it wasn't a dream. The folded paper finds place in front of Lan Wangji when the lecture is over, he leaves it on the desk without stopping to try and start a conversation again.

'Tonight at 6?'

it is a restless sleep that lan wangji has that night. dreams plague him — of fleeting touches, of radiant smiles, of teasing words. his unconscious mind grows more bold than it ever would otherwise. images burned in his brain by a ridiculous prank resurface now, with a particular subject in mind. he cannot make out his face but he knows it's him. he's memorized his touch.

when he wakes, he is uncomfortable for several reasons.

the largest one utterly unspeakable, and the most pressing of which being nie huaisang's head poking in through the doors of the room.

( which is not his room, to top it all off. )

lan wangji is used to nie huaisang looking terrified in his presence, but this time he looks.... vindicated. he smiles a knowing smile at him and gives a nod before carefully sliding the doors shut.

“ ah, jiang-xiong! jiang-xiong! you forgot sandu back in my quarters, let us go fetch it at once! ”

well... maybe the lazy boy wasn't so terrible after all. he will have to tell his brother to inform nie mingjue that nie huaisang will definitely pass this year.

he goes to exit the bed when his legs are met with resistance. and of course, as if it couldn't get any worse, there is wei ying, his head laying comfortably atop the blanket. the subject of his dreams, curled up by his feet.

his stomach churns. he has vague memories of the day before, but they are all too entirely humiliating to think of for more than a passing moment. the thought of having to face wei ying right now is horrifying, and so he is very careful as he shifts his legs out from under the blanket. once he is successfully out he grabs bichen and rushes to the door, sparing only a quick glance back before he's gone.

thoughts race through his mind as he speeds back to the jingshi. he needs to get ready to meet his uncle and brother for breakfast, and then he has to get ready for lectures — where he will undoubtedly be face to face with wei ying once again. and what is he supposed to do then, after embarrassing himself so thoroughly? throwing out all decorum and throwing himself on him so shamelessly? like a�� like a–-

he squeezes his eyes shut, trying desperately to ignore the ringing in his ears.

lan zha-an!

does lan zhan want to be friends with wei ying?

you're so beautiful,

why would you do something so stupid?

— ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ —

he is the first one in the orchid hall, as usual. though he's even earlier than usual due to him skipping breakfast. he'd told his brother he hadn't been feeling well when he'd asked after him - not a lie in the slightest. he wasn't breaking any rules. you're a good boy, wangji. pale digits tense in his lap as more and more students flood in, his ears on high alert for one particular voice. and when he hears it he feels paralyzed. he couldn't turn to look at him even if he wanted to - too embarrassed, too ashamed. he couldn't afford to lose any more face. to dig himself deeper into this treacherous hole. you're a good boy, wangji. so he remained still, ever the statuesque beauty, staring at the front of the room as if he'd be put to death if he looked away. and truthfully, he might.

[ghcstchild-a]

A SUDDEN MOVEMENT cuts his gentle humming short, and for a moment eyes widen with something he cannot quite place — undaunted as he is to face the landslide of emotion he's never felt before, anticipation burning through every cell of his body, and he feels like a little boy about to find the answer to the question he lacked the words to ask. Wei Wuxian is a child of lotus-adorned lakes and blinding sunlight, so he leans into the warmth on pure instinct and basks in it, if only for a second, a second would be more than enough, until it's not. He's memorized the songs of yearning and passion, studied the artwork in Nie Huaisang's shameless books with excitement and enthusiasm, and yet it never prepared him for this. Feeling as if the world might shatter and come back together again with them in the centre of creation.

The scent of sandalwood is intoxicating, and–

The impact nearly sends him tumbling on the grass, a split moment wasted to process the unexpected twist of the most unexpected of twists before it, and when his arms wrap around Lan Zhan's frame to save him from a fall, he finally lets out a breath. And it doesn't come out as laughter — the words ring in his ears, echo through his mind, how willing he is to believe them right now (lying is impossible when Lan Wangji is drunk, lying is prohibited in the Cloud Recesses!)

It doesn't even make any sense. He doesn't really want it to. He wanted to linger in that moment while it lasted. It's all about the anticipation anyway. The build-up before the tide washes over. He needs to do something about Lan Zhan, but no matter how many times he calls the name there's no reaction. If it's bound to end terribly, why did they nearly start something so beautiful?

When he makes it back to the Cloud Recesses, it's past curfew, and what he has to break for it are merely a few rules and a barrier guarding the entrance, and a basket of loquats sits on the porch of hanshi, a wordless apology, and a cover story to save the second jade from punishment — the mere thought of it is enough to make Wei Wuxian shudder. So he does the stupidest and the only thing he could do. He pushes Lan Zhan onto the bed, his own, thanking the gods that the room is empty tonight. He pulls off his boots to offer some dignity to the mess of a state he's in, tucks the blanket around him, so that it's almost peaceful. So that there's an illusion that things could still go back to the way they were, or that he'd remember in the morning, and want it still.

(What if he doesn't want it? What if he doesn't remember? What if he chooses to forget? What if they never talk again?)

And yet he cannot hold back a smile as a hand comes to brush away a strand of hair, only lingering long enough to feel the warmth of skin under his touch. And then, he runs outside, begging the chilly air to teach him how to breathe again.

“ not tired. ” it is a blatant lie, but the last thing lan wangji wants to do is fall asleep right now. even as he lives it, he knows how finite this moment is. how special it is. he wants to stay here like this, with wei ying looking at him in that way and touching him so gently the way nobody ever has. golden eyes track his every movement, every expression, drinking them all in, begging his intoxicated brain to remember this. if his limbs were not so heavy he might reach up and touch, map every point of the boy's face and commit it to memory.

lan wangji has never felt this way in his life, but he will leave the examining of that for his sober self. for now he will simply rest in this pretty friend's lap and listen to the unfamiliar song as it weaves its way through him along with the unfamiliar emotions. his eyes are just about to drift shut when he feels the gentle brush of his lip. something about that particular touch felt so intimate it sets his skin ablaze. a sense of panic wars with a sense of longing in his chest. the second young master may not be adept at recognizing emotions, but he would have to be a fool not to notice something going on here.

what is this? what are we doing?

—– it's too much. it's not enough.

he does not feel in control of his body as he sits up with a start. again he stares at wei ying, taking him in. his meridians feel like they will vibrate out of his skin, anticipating something he cannot identify. there is something he should do here, in this moment. he has read much poetry, heard many a storyteller in gusu, and yet he feels wholly unprepared for this moment, whatever it is. a fleeting thought of closing this gap, and so he does.

but he is exhausted, and drunk, and his aim is off, so he only ends up collapsing against wei ying in an embrace, head landing on his shoulder.

“ wei ying... is more beautiful. ”

and with that, the utterly pathetic jade passes out.

[ghcstchild-a]

HE HOLDS A BREATH and allows it all to drown in the warmth, the softest pang in his heart at the words, the unexpected silence of a world too loud. Fingers card mindlessly through the dark waves of the other's hair, to ease the discomfort , though he does not know which one of them he's trying to soothe at this point — and he shift just a little, enough to let Lan Zhan settle in his lap, and he still can't remember what it feels like to breathe.

❝ You don't have to apologize, ❞ he says simply, a smile still refusing to leave or fade just enough to leave the other in the comfort of darkness he must be craving in this state. Wei Wuxian's honesty is not born of wine, it comes naturally when he doesn't feel like being mischievous again, despite all the tricks and pranks he could pull right now. It doesn't even cross his mind. He's being trusted. He's being trusted enough to hold and guard something so fragile, so precious that blossoms in his chest, and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

Even if this beautiful illusion is bound to shatter soon.

❝ Don't you dare fall asleep now, ❞ he chides amusedly, and this time there's almost no shyness in the gentle touch of his fingers gliding over the other boy's cheek. But he feels like a criminal still, stealing something that doesn't belong to him — the Lan Wangji he used to know wouldn't allow this, and he finds himself more and more fascinated by this new, strikingly different version of him by the minute. Head tilts and the corners of lips almost ache from all the smiling, as he hums a playful tune. One that Lan Zhan wouldn't know, an old folk song of Yunmeng he's heard from young women picking lotus pods and peeling the seeds, singing as they worked. An answer to the question that wasn't even asked.

And then his mind wanders off and his gaze locks on the curve of the lower lip, still reddened from all that spice, and he cannot resist the half-drunken, half-desperate desire to touch. It's merely a brushing of a thumb before he pulls his hand away. It feels like desecration. Like defiling something divine. ( It feels like being struck by lightning, the flash of heat this simple touch sends through his bloodstream... )

❝ You're so beautiful, ❞ comes a half-whisper then, and a soft chuckle. ❝ You must hear it a lot but... you are. ❞

wei ying is smiling at him. it is not the first time, and yet it feels brand new. there is a feeling in his chest -― something akin to BLOOMING -― that he does not have a name for. subconsciously his hand raises to his chest; as if he could hold this feeling between his fingers and examine it further.

wei ying.... do you feel it too?

the other boy touches him, fixes his hair, and there is no flinch from lan wangji. there is no shame in having someone— no, not someone— in having wei ying see him in a state of anything less than immaculacy.

it is all so much. quite frankly, it is exhausting.

the drowsiness is starting to set in. his bones feel heavy within his flesh, a nagging urge to lay down. and so he does. there's a crunching of leaves as he shifts, settling so he can lay his head on wei ying's lap. he's on his back, of course — even through the exhaustion, he cannot look away from the other's face. his own expression is pulled into one of disappointment at the other's words. disappointment with himself.

“ i do not hate wei ying. i am.... i apologise. ” his tongue feels thicker in his mouth somehow. his eyelids are heavy. but he can't sleep now, not if the boy thinks he hates him. however, lan wangji has never been good at putting his feelings into words, and it certainly does not help that he is drunk. “ wei ying... is like a song, that i have never heard... ” a billowing sleeve comes up, hiding a yawn behind it before falling back against his chest. “ i want to learn. ”

[ghcstchild-a]

IT COMES IN A SHOCKWAVE, this blatant honesty that is too easy to mistake for a lie — for being called a good person, for feeling the warmth of being wanted for who he is. He doesn't know if the enormous space in his heart is to blame for this moment of weakness, but suddenly, it doesn't feel so empty anymore. Wei Wuxian has never not had friends, surrounded by junior disciples who seemed excited to spend time with him, followed by Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang most of the time they've spent here, but this feels different somehow. Something he yearned for so unreasonably offered to him at last, like a cherished gift, like a confession.

And he smiles, a genuine, warm smile that makes the clouds disperse, bright enough to make the sun hide away in shame. The wine takes their tiny fracture of reality and turns it upside down. Will Lan Wangji regret in tomorrow? Will he shun him again, push him away like he always did before? Will he even remember?

And then, his other friends won't be keen on this, Lan Zhan is not like them, they won't accept him. But he can make space just for the two of them, come to this spot again, go to a tavern together and order something less catastrophic, sneak into the quiet of the library pavilion and he'd have to lie about some more punishments...

❝ Of course I do! It's just that... ❞ his voice trails off. Fidgeting desperately to keep his hands busy, Wei Ying finds no solace in the empty jug he shakes a few times to fortify the warmth spilling inside, to no avail. So he turns to his companion instead, tucking away a strand of hair that turned the usual perfection into something more human than marble — the sight of it somehow renders him tipsier than before.

❝ You always act like you hate me. So I thought– I mean, it's not for your brother to decide who you should be friends with, and... Would I even be here with you if I didn't really want to? ❞

telling the truth is good, it is the right thing to do. it is what he's been taught to do all his life. so why does wei ying look so SAD? and why does that make his own heart ache in response, make him never want to be honest ever again? he feels worse for this transgression than he does for all the rules he's broken today. the warmth is gone, as if a storm cloud came over the sun in just seconds. he doesn't like it. he wants to chase it away. as irritating as the other's disposition had been to him at times, the guilt he feels at being the one to dim it is insurmountable.

he nods so hard it sends his head spinning again and he has to blink a few times to settle it down. “ mn. wei ying is a good person. ” there is a voice inside him SCREAMING for admitting this so blatantly, as if it were a shameful secret to be kept hidden. but right now his hazy mind does not care at all if it would bring back that radiant smile. nothing else could possibly matter but this singular goal.

still, there is a creeping sense of unfamiliar doubt within him. what if wei ying doesn't want to be friends with him? what if he really has just been teasing him this whole time, making a fool of the ever prideful jade? it wouldn't be the first time someone tried, and likely not the last. maybe they really are too different.

“ does wei ying truly want to be friends? ” his voice comes out quiet, as if he didn't really want the other to hear him. and maybe he didn't. it wasn't like him to show any sort of insecurity... but it wasn't like him to be drunk, either. he has never met anyone who could bring out so many changes in him. wei ying is like a hurricane racing through his life, leaving no space of his heavily guarded heart untouched in his wake. it is frightening and exciting all at once.

“ ...do not tease. ”

[ghcstchild-a]

IT'S TOO EASY FOR THE WINE to go straight to his head, bringing a giddy haze and some kind of inexplicable warmth that's brewing in his chest, and before a few more stray drops can run down his chin he is rendered speechless once more — so his little theory was proven right after all. The truth doesn't come unexpected, Wei Wuxian has harbored his suspicions from the start, and yet something tugs at his heartstrings and they ache, softly, longingly, forlornly at the realization that it wasn't Lan Zhan's choice to be here after all.

❝ Well, look at you now, I'm the one watching you, ❞ he scoffs, shoving the dull ache so deep inside it doesn't rear its ugly head again, and in all honesty, babysitting would be a better word for what he's doing. Making sure that Zewu-jun's little brother doesn't sully his reputation in front of someone with lower tolerance and lesser fondness for mischief.

And then, he frowns, confusion nestling inside his chest — it's not a matter of what Lan Xichen wants, though the man had eased his way into Wei Wuxian's list of most respected people since his first day in the Cloud Recesses. A question then simmers on the tip of his tongue, boiling and burning and biting, and he bites back at full force, dreading the answer and inexplicably yearning for it at the same time.

( if all of it is nothing but play pretend, why are these golden eyes fixed on him so, breathing in the very essence of him, deep and captivating and a little bit dark– )

He shifts the weight, turning slightly to the side to marvel at the sight before him, trailing off and coming back to reality again, all within a second ( too much spice rendered full lips reddened and swollen, and his barely blurred gaze wanders, he catches himself staring, he catches his mind racing, thoughts disappearing one by one and turning into a chaotic turmoil that doesn't even come to anything, draws no conclusions, it just is ). And then he asks, half shrinking with anxiety, half hopeful.

❝ Does Lan Zhan want to be friends with Wei Ying? ❞

it has been years since anyone has touched him in any significant way. it is nobody's fault but his own. it is him who flinches away from any contact, gentle or otherwise. but with wei ying's arms wrapped around him, he forgets himself. forgets why he never let anyone close. perhaps it is that nobody ever touched him like this, like they were trying to hold him together. like he needed it. not since—-

“ ...ah, bright. ”

the light is blinding. disorienting. he clings to wei wuxian like a lifeline and tucks his head close to block some of the light, stumbling along with him towards their destination. there is a warmth that blooms inside him when he sees it's the willow tree — one of his favourite spots in caiyi. he was planning on taking wei ying here next. how did he know?

wei ying is so smart.

he leans back against the tree, taking solace in the little shade it affords them. still, he squints in the light as he looks to wei wuxian, watching as he drinks. golden eyes track the stray liquid that spills past his lips and down his chin. they continue onward until the other's voice snaps him out of it and lan wangji feels like a child that's been caught sneaking candy — both for the shameless staring and being caught in a lie.

“ ...no. to watch wei ying. ” but, that is not the whole truth either. he did not want to believe his brother would act with ulterior motives, but lan wangji is not a fool. xichen had said himself that it would be good for him to make friends his age. he had explicitly mentioned wei wuxian. he finds it hard to keep the words to himself in this state, so he tells him honestly; “ wants me to be friends with wei ying. ”

[ghcstchild-a]

TO THE COLDNESS OF MARBLE touch is an unfamiliar concept — it dawns on him like a flash of lightning, like a dagger that comes out of nowhere, and with a hitching breath he freezes, petrified. A lion-hearted boy turned fretful, lost between a sudden urge to cradle the one who pushed him away too often in his arms and the common sense of staying paralyzed like this for a while. But he doesn't know what to do with all that warmth that washes over him when the heat of another's skin brushes against his own, and it lingers, it persists, it begs him to down the jug and push it to the limit, and do something unspeakable...

❝ Huh? Lan Zhan, where are you– ❞ he's lost him again and the moment is gone, but the absurd horror of it is still there — they can't stay here, and Wei Wuxian can hardly believe he's so quick to agree with the half-fathomable point of one so hopelessly, helplessly drunk. But there is nowhere to go. Back to the Cloud Recesses is not an option, even if he were to hide Lan Wangji in his room until he's sober, Jiang Cheng will return to see it, Jiang Cheng will go looking for him if he doesn't show up at the meeting spot, and then–

Chiding as he wraps his arms around the other's shoulders, pulling him upwards to his feet and muttering something meaningless to keep him conscious, to ground him in this moment. Who the hell passes out from a drink and then awakens so utterly useless? It's only natural that Lan Zhan doesn't want to be seen. A piece of silver is left on the table then, too generous for someone who barely even touched their food, but he doesn't wish to leave the wine behind, so he grabs the open jug and hides the other away for later.

Wei Wuxian almost despises the sun for coming out to greet them, to lure them onto the streets filled with too many people when he has to support his companion, and his sword, and his wine, and take him somewhere far, far away from prying eyes. There's a spot that he's noticed, before. A quiet shade beneath a willow by the lake, to stay out of the light, to lie low and wait for the tempest to come to an end.

Sunshine touches every inch of him, exposed as he settles on the grass, elbows digging into the ground to keep some balance, a jug of wine in his hand finally makes it to his lips and Wei Wuxian smiles but does not laugh — the bizarre mix of mischief and worry settles in shining eyes when he turns to look at Lan Wangji, and squints at the light. ❝ Lan Zhan, ❞ comes another soft call, another reminder to stay here. He has a little theory to put to the test.

❝ You brother didn't really send you here for loquats, did he? ❞

there is nothing, and then there is wei ying. he can hear him calling for him, feel his pushing and prodding to try and get him up. the head on his shoulders is simply too heavy to even try. he should be worried — he is in a state of debauchery, breaking his clan's rules and in public, no less ! yet there is no fear to be felt for the repercussions or shame for the sullying of his reputation. there is only this warm feeling in his belly and wei ying's gentle touch.

golden eyes blink open once more, and he is met with a view more sideways than he anticipated. right. he is still laying on the table. with great effort he sits up, though it doesn't last long before he finds himself slumping over onto his companion involuntarily.

“ wei ying, ” he mumbles, only slightly turning his head to look up at him. it is, in fact, wei ying, and the sight makes him feel safer than it ought to. “ heavy. need rest. ” he can't remember if this tavern has an inn nearby, but he is quite content to lay against wei ying for the time being. it is nice, being so close. why hasn't he tried this before ? why does he push wei ying away ? he can't remember. his thoughts are moving slow, but too viscous for him to grab a hold of.

but he does suddenly remember they didn't come to caiyi town alone, and that jiang cheng and nie huaisang aren't here yet. he doesn't want them to come. they will distract wei ying, who is currently pouring all of his attention into lan wangji, and then he will be sad. he does not want to be sad. he's having fun with wei ying.

he sits up again, this time with the intent to stand all the way up. “ have to go. right now, wei ying. ” if they are quick, the others won't have a chance to catch up. then he can have more alone time with wei ying. yes, that is what they'll do. he pushes off from the table with both hands and stands up on two shaky legs, like a new born faun still figuring out how their limbs work. then he realizes he's left bichen on the floor, and he becomes even more like a faun in his struggle to pick it up. it only ends with him falling back down to his knees in a pitiful pile of robes.

oh, if shufu could see him now...

wide eyes glance up at wei ying, shining and pleading.

“ ...wei ying. help. ”

[ghcstchild-a]

THIS COULDN'T HAVE GONE MORE WRONG. For the first time in too long he is rendered speechless, the very look on his companion's face spinning tales of pure horror, it becomes obvious the second golden hues widen at the splotch of red, and then– ❝ Lan Zhan!— ❞ all reason is instantly drowned in the sight, the warnings he's about to shout, the instinct to knock the table over and yank the jug out of a hand it doesn't belong in, but all that's left to him is to watch this little end of the world.

Wei Wuxian has always thrived in chaos, but even he couldn't be spared from the shockwave of terror and confusion — and he didn't even mean for it to happen, just this once, he craved some peace and yearned to share the warmth of his smile with a beautiful marble statue, now passed out from wine, after trying the spiciest dish this place could offer. He must truly be the worst influence.

( but a soft chuckle still escapes him, though a hand comes almost instantly to cover his lips with a rather pathetic attempt to clear his throat and pretend he didn't find it amusing in the slightest — as if anyone could notice ).

❝ Lan Zhan! ❞ he beckons again, voice too high with tension and audible panic, and he has to clear his throat once more, but merely a second passes before he's next to the poor unfortunate soul annihilated by wine and chili. ❝ Aiya, Lan Zhan, " how quickly it passes, the way he almost finds the sight endearing — a hand comes to move the edges of the forehead ribbon away from the plates, unwilling to even entertain the idea of this soft white fabric being stained red, and then... fingers trail lightly over the sharp outline of the other's shoulder, tapping, tugging, pushing fretfully to coax Lan Wangji back into reality. ❝ Why would you do something so stupid? ❞ It's a mystery to Wei Wuxian still, why would anyone agree to this knowing the Lans and spices and alcohol of all things do not mix well.

The worst that could happen is his friends coming back, finding them now by some cruel twist of fate — it's not a sight to be marvelled at for anyone else, but one he'll cradle in his heart and take to his grave, and the old man will never find out if they just—

If they just what?

Oh how he'll thank the ancestors, kneeling for hours on end, that the tavern is almost empty and no one will witness the very literal downfall of the impeccable Second Jade...

❝ Lan Zha-an! ❞ Wei Ying whines, a smile still trying to break through from beneath all the confusion and then — then he tries a different strategy. ( it's not noise that awakens a drunken man but silence, it's not violence that can force him back on his feet but a gentle touch ). Fingertips brush over the other's cheek with ineffable fondness, his free hand supporting his chin as he tilts his head slightly to wait and observe.

there are many ways in which lan wangji is considered plain to others, but his food preferences stood out even amongst the already bland flavours of typical gusu meals. it had been even worse when he was young, with the kitchen servants often needing to make him separate meals just to ensure the young boy would eat at all. it was a miraculous day in the cloud recesses when he finally expanded his palate past bread and rice.

if the cooks back home heard he was trying chili and sichuan pepper garnished anything, it would throw the entire sect into chaos.

plans of reminding wei wuxian it was him that broke the rules around alcohol die in his throat when the plates are set down. the shade of red is immediately alarming — one bite and his lips will surely resemble a bride's on her wedding day. more red than his palms will be from the way his nails dig in to the skin in what can only be described as PURE TERROR. but there is an easy-going smile being flashed in his direction and he knows he cannot back down now. with one final breathe he picks up his chopsticks and grabs a piece.

the regret hits the moment the tofu makes contact with his tongue, and comes back around again when his teeth sink into it. his tastes buds scream in agony and every muscle in his body tightens to force down the spluttering coughs that fight to make their way out. his hand instinctively reaches for his blade as if the only possible option to stop the unbearable heat is to cut off his tongue. it grows increasingly tempting until jars are placed on the table and lan wangji reaches for one and CHUGS, begging for any sort of relief.

the difference it makes to the burning of his mouth is minimal, but the rest of his body instantly relaxes. it's warm, and cosy, albeit confusing. he glances up to wei wuxian and finds three of them staring back. their mouths are moving and he can hear their voices, but it's as though they are speaking to him in a foreign language. it's frightening. he doesn't like it. “ wei ying. ” he speaks, though it sounds so distant. he wants to ask him what is going on, why he feels this way, but he can't make any of the words come out. the room starts to spin and he tries his hardest to focus on the jar he's just set down.

— 天子笑 —

“ ...wei ying ! ”

and then everything goes black, and there is a resounding THUD as his head hits the table.

[ghcstchild-a]

THE UNPARALLELED NATURE of his palate, ravaged by the hottest of peppers and positiviely numbing spices, is yet for Lan Wangji to discover — even his shidi could never tolerate such quantities of it, nor the other disciples of Yunmeng Jiang. Whenever they would gasp for air and swallow gallons of water to be able to breathe again or chase the tears out of their eyes, Wei Wuxian would smile blissfully and bite into his share of flaming red again. It's only natural that such boldness on his companion's part doesn't go unnoticed, and it's almost too difficult to force this little voice inside him into silence, the voice that has a warning tone and wishes he'd beware the consequences.

So the rest of it comes without much hesitation as he asks for two servings of both chili and sichuan pepper-garnished tofu, promising just enough delicious pain to make it worth trying, and two bottles of Emperor's Smile ( that, however, will likely end up pushed to his side of the table, but it's not that he really minds ).

❝ Lan Zhan, ❞ he calls after a brief pause, fingers tapping on the surface of the table both eagerly and a little restlessly, but a gentle smile still warms his features once again. It started as an insult, a desperate attempt to catch the other's glance, but saying the name now leaves nothing but a sweet aftertaste, and it almost feels like an impulse, to say it, after hearing his own be spoken without malice or irritation. So another pause creeps in and lingers as he looks for the right thing to lead with, to fill the surprisingly not so uncomfortable silence that sits between them.

❝ It's nice to see you like this. ❞ ❝ You realize that I like it very spicy, right? ❞

❝ You're paying, ❞ Wei Wuxian beams at last, his chopsticks picking up a piece of bright red tofu and the burning sensation soon gives in to a pleasant tingling, prompting another delighted smile, and not a flinch. ❝ You broke my jug of Emperor's Smile when we first met, remember? So you owe me one. ❞

“ mn. ” he considers adding more detail, telling him that the servants and other disciples always get the wrong loquats, but he stops himself. more lies have passed his lips today than in the past decade, and he refuses to carry on. the fact that it came so easily to him, that he wanted wei wuxian to believe his flimsy excuse.... it confuses him. he doesn't wish to think about it any longer. instead he focuses on his companion, listening to his rambles and keeping up with his train of thought with ease.

lan wangji is not a talkative person and wei wuxian does not seem to mind in the slightest. he bounces from thought to thought and seems perfectly content with the quiet hums and shakes of the head he is given in response. it is relieving, in a way, to be in a conversation but not be pressed for responses. it is something even his brother rarely does with him, choosing instead to spend time together in comfortable silence. he finds himself just as comfortable in their conversation on their walk, hardly noting the time passing before they've reached their destination.

he wants to deny such an accusation immediately, but he pauses. there is a delightful shine to the other's eyes that he dare not dull. besides, if he were to admit his disdain, it's sure to be added to the list of things wei wuxian teases him about, and he'd really rather not give him any more ammunition.

it isn't really another lie if he doesn't deny it, right?

“ ...i will have what wei ying is having. ”

[ghcstchild-a]

IT STILL FEELS SURREAL, the clouds above them dispersing to reveal warmer colors beneath all that ice, if only for a moment — after all these days in the library, seeing Lan Zhan not surrounded by books and scrolls is almost a revelation, one he takes in with eager and amazement it almost knocks his breath out. And it's nice to be in the sun again, a wild flame within him doesn't take well to staying cooped up for too long, and now–

❝ Oh, ❞ Wei Wuxian hums softly, a finger coming to tap the side of his nose awkwardly but this, too, disappears as quickly as it came on and brings forth another smile — he does, after all, share the feeling. Though it quickly became apparent that the relationship between the Twin Jades is nothing like the neverending banters he has with Jiang Cheng. It's heartwarming nonetheless, to uncover a little bit of Lan Wangji with a single word or a sword-sharp sentence, like a puzzle that doesn't wish to give in to the ever inquisitive mind that he possesses. ❝ Is that why he asked you to get loquats instead of sending the servants? ❞

The charming guniang is forgotten almost immediately upon being mentioned at the idea of actually sharing a meal. The food of Gusu never failed to make him shudder, plain and tasteless as it is and lacking everything that a growing body of a young boy requires, and although admitting it would be a terrible idea, hunting for pheasants and catching fish with his bare hand has been the most fun Wei Wuxian got to have here, until now. Eyes widened, he follows with almost childish fascination, trying to stifle the hope that maybe that restaurant also serves good wine.

Whatever questions plague his mind or come and go like the wind, he gives voice to every single one of them, not really expecting an answer but anticipating any and every word he's gifted, with the patience and alleviation that don't really match the subject — until the tavern is in sight and not too crowded, and he's finally silenced the second his gaze lands on the list of things served here.

❝ Lan Zhan, do you... like spicy food? ❞

And IF STARS COULD SHINE MIDDAY, they'd find home in the bright gray hues of his eyes and the corners of lips stretched into a smile that is nothing but ecstatic. ❝ I'd never have guessed! You should really come visit me in Yunmeng sometime, our cuisine is all about spice, but I bet no one here can roast game like we do back home. ❞

it is with a quiet fascination that he watches the other move, bounding down the steps with little concern for the steepness of the rocks or the narrowness of the path. uncaring that his voice rings loudly as he speaks, or that his ponytail sits slightly askew on his head. things that are so deeply ingrained in lan wangji's mind as vital don't even seem to cross the other boy's mind at all. these things that make him avoid other people somehow draw him in when it comes to wei wuxian. he has been likened to ice in many ways. it was a perception he had begun to identify with. how fitting, then, that he feels like he is MELTING next to wei wuxian's ineffable heat. if lan wangji is ice, wei wuxian is the sun itself.

it feels like a joke from the universe when the clouds above hide the sun the moment wei wuxian mentions a charming guniang.

“ no. ” he replies, though not to the actual question. “ ...brother is very particular about loquats. we will go to his vendor. ” two lies in one day. wei wuxian's influence is strong. perhaps this outing was a terrible idea after all. he should go home immediately to reflect, and—

—and.

golden eyes flick down, expression struggling to stay blank as he stares at the fingers trapping his sleeve between them. nie huaisang and jiang cheng are gone by the time his eyes make their way back to wei wuxian's face. the shining eyes are looking at him with such honesty and eagerness that lan wangji feels exposed yet again. it seems to be a habit the other boy is picking up, making him feel like that. like maybe he wasn't simply trying to prank him when he said he wanted to be his friend.

“ a restaurant. ” he tucks his arm behind him, freeing the sleeve from wei wuxian's grasp. lan wangji's real favourite spots would be crowded now, but it would be a down time for the taverns and such. there is one in particular that serves food nothing like what they have back in the cloud recesses, so he will not have to listen to the other insult his home for the entire duration of the meal. he doesn't wait for wei wuxian to agree or disagree, trusting he will follow as he heads in the direction of their destination.

[ghcstchild-a]

❝ FATED PERSON, huh? ❞ he scoffs, barely even trying to conceal the bitterness of it — the Lans have always appeared to be the most secretive among the great sects, yet one thing Wei Wuxian hasn't failed to notice. They don't rush into marriages, don't appreciate fleeting paramours, and if this is what the forehead ribbon represents, he didn't need another reminder. The bittersweet irony isn't lost on him still, for defiling something sacred for the second time, with nothing but adoration in mind.

Who is he to argue with fate?

( Who will it be then, he wonders. Who will be allowed to run their hands across his skin, who will be blessed enough to touch the ribbon and earn nothing but fondness in return, whose lap will be a safe haven for him to rest in when he's exhausted, who will run their fingers through his hair and sing for him? Who– )

❝ OW! Lan Zhan, you– ❞ A moment of pure agony chases the melancholy away, and suddenly, the craving for violence becomes almost overpowering. It's not satisfied when he nudges his companion's side with an elbow, wincing again, breathing in, breathing out (it burns, it burns), he wants to sink his teeth into those lips that shaped the words that hurt him and abetted the silence that made it worse.

And then, as the throbbing pain builds a strangely soothing rhythm, he relaxes, slumped against the wall next to the other, wordless, breathless. Maybe there won't be anyone. Maybe Jiang Cheng won't make it in time, and the monster will get to them before they get to it, maybe their wounds will get infected, maybe they'll never see the light of day again. Maybe they're each other's fated still, in death if not in life.

❝ I'm sorry, ❞ comes a sudden half-whisper, breaking the silence. ❝ About your home. ❞ It must be so childish, clinging to his own bitterness when the place that brought them together and tore them apart has suffered such damage. Still, Wei Wuxian continues, eyes closed to give him an illusion of shelter. ❝ And I'm sorry to have touched your forehead ribbon. I didn't know. I'm sure whoever it is that you– ❞ he swallows. ❝ ... whoever it's meant for won't mind. ❞

the moment he feels the ribbon slip his head whips back around in surprise. wei wuxian was disrespectful in plenty senses of the word, but there was still a shred of hope he wouldn't go this far. “ WEI YING— ”

but he keeps working, has the gall to scold him for holding his forehead ribbon so dear. lan wangji hasn't the energy or the words to keep fighting, and so he simply lets himself slump back against the wall in exhaustion. the throbbing in his leg matches that in his head — and then his chest, when he sneaks a glance at wei wuxian. it does not look like the wei ying he is used to; the ever radiant, forever smiling wei ying. the one that looked like sorrow could never reach him if it tried.

it does not make sense to lan wangji. who is HE to look so dejected, when it was not his heart that had been toyed with so carelessly? to lead him on so, and then to be too cowardly to reject him with words and instead give him a sliver of hope, only to make a mockery of him?

but what makes even less sense is wei wuxian's question.

“ you know the importance of the forehead ribbon. ” he means it as a statement, but his tone is unsure, now. though it is commonly known and written in the principles that the lan headbands are reminders to have self-restraint, lan an's specific meaning is not common knowledge to those outside the sect. but wei ying is smart and knows more of other sects than most. is it really possible he didn't know? could it be that he truly isn't that cruel?

“ ...it is a teaching of lan an. it reflects self-regulation and self-restraint. the only ones permitted to touch it are one's family and―” gold eyes flicker to wei ying for a moment before darting away. “ and one's fated person. it is not to be used for other purposes. ”

the urge to change the subject overtakes him and he reaches for the perfume pouch, grabbing some of the medicinal herbs and pressing it against wei ying's chest a little too carelessly.