#could something have happened eventually if he didn't leave with the wens? maybe

[wenningfanclub]

“Wei Wuxian was thrown out of the cultivation world for not carrying a sword!! Because he’s a servant and as soon as he wasn’t useful he was cut off!!”

Okay but like... was he, though? Because as far as I remember, Wei Wuxian chooses to leave the Jiang clan when he decides to rescue the Wen remnants. Is it an unfair choice? Absolutely. But it’s one he makes on his own terms, and it’s not really related to his not carrying a sword.

Wei Wuxian faces pushback for not carrying his sword from pretty much everyone, but aside from the occasional “someone should do something about it” from the larger community nothing ever really comes of it. He’s still first disciple of the Jiang, and the most Jiang Cheng ever does is give him a hard time for not carrying his sword and for fucking off to go drink on the clock. And given that he has no context for why Wei Wuxian is doing either (because Wei Wuxian refuses to tell him) it’s pretty fair, actually. If anything, Jiang Cheng is almost unreasonably flexible about it: Wei Wuxian isn’t pulling his weight when Jiang Cheng really, really needs to him to be and not explaining why and it’s still not a deal breaker, even when he’s unreliable and out of control and fucking up diplomatic efforts at the cultivation conference. As far as I can tell, Wei Wuxian’s position as first disciple is never seriously jeopardized until he the moment he leaves the Jiang, and even then he has to be the one to pull the plug, not Jiang Cheng. 

So like... he wasn’t kicked out of the cultivation world for not carrying a sword because it wasn’t about that. He just faces a ton of pushback, which is shitty and unfair given that he’s Going Through It at the time but again, no one knows about that because he’s actively lying about it. 

And like, I do get the class-based analysis that some people have made that Nie Huaisang is able to get away with not carrying a sword with less pushback. Wei Wuxian has a job and Nie Huaisang... also has a job as sect heir but it’s a harder one to get fired from, PLUS he’s spent a lot of time and effort worming out of carrying it to the point that the pushback against it is pretty mild. Whereas with Wei Wuxian, people react differently is because it’s yeah, his job to carry his sword, but more importantly it’s both sudden and wildly out of character for him to stop carrying Suibian. Up until losing his core, he was one of (if not THE) best swordsman of his peers and his sword was part of him and his identity as a cultivator, so for everyone who knows him there’s considerable reason to be alarmed--in no small part because they correctly recognize that something must be Very Wrong with him. Which is where Lan Wangji is coming from, and he’s right. 

But also, and I can’t stress this enough, Nie Huaisang also gets more of a pass because he isn’t holding a live bomb and refusing to let go. Because it’s not just the sword that’s the issue, it’s the fact that Wei Wuxian has the tiger tally and is unwilling to let it be destroyed by the clans. Not carrying a sword is a sign that he’s abandoned righteous cultivation and adopted demonic cultivation--and given the both recent and historic track record of demonic cultivators going apeshit, it’s not a totally unreasonable thing for people to be anxious about. This is a society still reeling from a war that started when powerful, talented people started flaunting convention and straying from the path, so while I’m not justifying anyone’s paranoia, the overall concern about whether or not no longer carrying a sword is a sign that Wei Wuxian is the next Wen Ruohan isn’t baseless. 

So while there’s absolutely more to be said for class-based analysis of how people treat him, I honestly can’t agree with people who are hung up on the idea that Wei Wuxian was unfairly punished for not carrying a sword. Because he really wasn’t punished for it at all, and also I don’t think that the people who were upset or alarmed that he stopped carrying Suibian were that unreasonable.  

[angstymdzsthoughts]

This is something I wrote inspired by the latest ask, with wy losing his memories. Its unedited and written in messenger to my friends 😅 I'll probably edit it and post it on my AO3 some day. Anyhow.. here it is

"Who are you?" WY asks years later as LWJ brings him his morning meal. He has done so ever since the first time he asked the question, every time LWJ comes to see him.

Ever since LWJ found out the truth, about WY's missing core. Why WY's memories will always be lost, he has condemned himself to this. He suffers every time he hears the question, hates the confusion in WY's voice. This is his fault, he must bare it. But he doesn't know who he does it for. No one is there to forgive him for what he has done. No one who has the power to ever will. WY will never know, understand what happened to him, will never know to even be mad at LWJ. Because as much as WY deserves it, LWJ can't bring himself to tell him about the spell.

Others have told him that it doesn't matter anyway, that WY wouldn't remember either way. But LWJ knows the true reason as to why he doesn't. He doesn't know how WY would react if he did tell him, knows that he'll probably be angry and confused. And he knows that he'll have forgotten it the next time they meet... LWJ can't bear to t face WY's anger, only for it to be replaced by confusion hours later. So... he doesn't tell him.

Instead he introduces himself, talks to him. Over the years they have gone through every possible subject, sometimes twice in the same day at different meals, but LWJ could never tire of this. Not when this is his only option if he wants to keep WY in his life. Not when this is all he gets.

If only no one had found that scripture. If only he hadn't let himself be convinced to help. If only he hadn't gotten WY to trust him, even though he didn't even tell him what he was about to do. But he had, and this will be his penance. Forever if he has to.

Over the years he has learned to read WY, better than he ever could before. And it broke his heart when he realised what WY's relentless teasing meant all those years ago. That he could have stopped this from happening, if only he had realised that he wasn't alone in his feelings. If he had only confessed earlier, gotten WY's trust, gotten his confidence. If WY had dared to tell him from the beginning, then maybe it wouldn't have ended up like this. Then maybe... just maybe, LWJ wouldn't have to see WY fall in love with him over and over again. Maybe he wouldn't have to see the teasing in WY's eyes when he bid him farewell, calling him Lan-er-gege. LWY always left just under 2 hours after he arrived at WY's cottage, because despite himself he couldn't bear to be there when WY's face turned blank and then filled with confusion, not after the first times. He couldn't bear to see WY's face turn to fear as he realised that something must be wrong, if he couldn't remember the man infront of him, or how he even got there.

Instead he'd leave, and come back two hours later, only for it to repeat.

He tried to tell himself, sometimes, that it was worth it. That it was better than when WY was slowly isolating himself with the Wen remnants. Slowly starving with all the cultivation world out to get him. But he knew that he was lying to himself. He would take WY's hate, would take his anger.

He would take his reluctant forgiveness, when LWJ would have offered to join him in the burial mounds. He would rather live with him there. Forsake the cultivator world with him. Live a simple life and, maybe eventually he would have worked up the courage to tell him the truth about his feelings. And WY would have laughed and they would have lived and loved each other. But... he hadn't, that hadn't happened. And it never would. Because LWJ had been a coward. And now he had to bear the punishment for it. Had to live in torment as WY fell in love over and over again. See his confusion turn to joy, see the mischief in his eyes as he teased and teased.

He had to take, whatever WY gave him in those moment, whatever he could get, knowing that it would all be lost soon. As soon as LWJ walked out the door, those moments would be lost forever, remembered only by him, only to be written down in notes stored safely under the floor of the Jingshi, never to be read by anyone. He would listen to WY's teasing as he left. Hear WY call him just as he did when they were teens. He would have to brace himself for what he knew was coming, only so he could stop the tears enough that WY never saw them. He couldn’t bear to hear his questions. Couldn’t take the sympathy that he knew WY would give him.

Once, he had asked himself, if it would have been better if WY had simply died from the spell, instead of this. Maybe it would have been kinder, at least to WY. But LWJ was selfish. He prefered this.

"Who are you" WY asked, when LWJ walked in with his meal.

LWJ put the tray down on the table. Kept his back to WY as he swallowed his tears. Forced his composure back, forced his face into the same face he had born for so many years before he met WY. Then he turned to face him.

"I am Lan Wangji, from the Gusu Lan sect. Nice to meet you." After a beat, an afterthought...

"You may call me Lan Zhan"

He would forever hold on to the wish that the spell would someday stop working, that he would someday walk into the cottage and be met by WY calling his name.

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!" He would say.

"I remember you" he would promise, held in LWJs arms, holding him right back.

"I forgive you... I love you..." he would whisper, kissing LWJs tears away from his face.

But that day would never come.

[killian-whump]

How do you think the Coven of Colin would behave if one of them were to end up getting married (probably a Hook or maybe Brennan because of the amount of absolute bad boys Colin has played who aren't the most ethical where romance is concerned)? How chaotic would the stag/bachelor night be? Which of the coven would be best man?

I know Preacher Peter technically did get married, but hoodwinking a lass into a river ritual isn't a proper wedding. Just saying 😜

Wait... It's not?

Peter is shook. I mean, there was a river and everything. God himself told Peter it was proper and legal and everything important. And, you know, she didn't not not say she wasn't into it or anything. He's very upset with you right now, I hope you know.

Anyway, we'll leave him to his indignation. He'll settle down eventually and forgive you, I'm sure.

Now... Who would be the groom? I think you have a good idea there with Brennan. Although I feel like Ben would be another option. After how overdramatic he was when his girlfriend left him, I suspect he'd be putting a ring on her finger as soon as she'd allow him to in the hopes that won't happen again.

But I feel like Ben would take one look at the rest of the Coven and decide to elope or at least not tell them about the nuptials. In fact, I've decided just this moment that this is why Ben doesn't tend to play much of a role in Coven gatherings. It's not at all that I have a tendency to forget about him or anything; it's totally that he's such a normal guy and they're all so... not. He tends to duck out of meetings and such, what with pirates carousing and wizards casting spells and people pleading for medical help because they no longer have functioning knees.

I mean, I dunno. That all seems normal to me 🤷‍♀️

So anyway! Back to our groom. Brennan seems like a good choice, but I wouldn't want him to marry Nora (she's no good for him!) and we don't have any other canon interests for him. I don't think we can give Colin Characters new love interests if they don't have them in their own canon. That feels like it might be against the rules somehow. I mean, unless its each other. But, you know, that gets reported on by our special correspondents.

Anyhow, maybe we should stick with Hook, since he actually did get married in canon.

["So did I!" shouts Peter from the corner he's sulking in.

But nobody asked him, of course.]

So we'll look to what the Coven did for Killian's nuptials to answer your question. Let's see... It looks like Old Hook kept the notes for this event. At least until they turned into a drunken scrawl at the end. You'll note that this was at the tail end of S6, before we met Old Hook again in S7 and learned he had stopped drinking.

["I wasn't drunk, love," Old Hook informs us. "I was delightfully u~n~u~s~u~a~l."]

Well, whatever the case, he seemed to have a nice time at his other self's bachelor party, which was thrown for him by his other other self, Captain Jones. Divested of his orderly ways by the loss of his brother and his newfound embrace of piracy, but not yet as angsty as he'll be when his first true love is snuffed out before his very eyes... Captain Jones throws one hell of a party. On the Jolly, of course, with all the rum and saucy bar wenches you could ask for.

["And goat's milk!" chirps Cowardly Deckhand Hook.

Yes, of course. He even had milk for Little Killian and the other small children.]

There were no strippers, of course, because Captain Jones has too much respect for women and would never hire them to do such a thing.

Mark brought some, though - and then he skipped out on paying them, leaving Lieutenant Jones to bashfully pay the ladies whilst trying desperately not to look at their ample bosoms. Dammit, Mark.

Killian himself left early, as he had "business" to attend to in Storybrooke, which allegedly had something to do with disposing of some sort of white suit and acquiring something that was "anything other than that". Professor Harrison also left early, with a saucy wench on each arm, promising to teach them how to properly enjoy wine... and him. Or wine on him. None of us are really sure; he tends to be pretty secretive with his goings-on with the ladies.

Rowe didn't really do much at the party, but apparently he doesn't have to do much of anything to impress people and inspire avid appreciation and decades of fannish adoration. While I was typing this, his 17 seconds of screentime gained an additional 2,675 fans for Colin. It's just THAT good of a performance.

In case you were wondering, the deck of the Jolly Roger has just enough room for six Colin Characters to comfortably do the worm at the same time, if you space them out properly over the flat areas. You're welcome.

And in closing, Peter has a message for you:

[saksukei]

wen junhui college au

other college aus; wonu minghao mingyu

you're damn right if you think that wen junhui is a theatre arts major because he iS and that too with humanistic studies as a minor aH and he's also on the rowing team,,, he started rowing as a joke and now he has one of the best times??? like. how.

and everybody knows he has too much energy and he uses it in the best way possible

like the plays? dude has a separate fanclub

you keep on seeing new tweets about “who’s the black haired guy in the play?” like wen junhui’s popularity is straight up no joke,, EVERYBODY KNOWS HIM

you on the other hand are an exercise physiology major with nutrition as a minor and you're also part of the rowing team,, and you have the best time for the women’s team,, which means,, you see junhui every other day,,

the coach pairs you guys often,, but there’s only one small issue,,,

YOU HATE WEN JUNHUI

he's such a pain in the ass,, he teases you every time he sees you,,, he always challenges your skills and makes you doubt yourself,, oh the amount of times you’ve wanted to deck him in the face,,

and today was the same as well

“you're not dead yet?” you hissed, as you saw jun approach you,,

“dont sound so disappointed, I might think you don't like me,” he retorted, a smug expression on his face, as he set his bag right beside yours.

“but I really don't like you,” you roll your eyes,,

jun chuckled, as he clapped his hands together, getting everyone's attention.

you guys were practicing indoors, on the rowing machine because there was some trouble with the equipment and the coach had to go get new stuff

which also meant he left jun in charge,, the teams assembled,, looking at junhui for directions,,

“alright everyone, warm up for ten and then start with a thousand metres,” he instructed. “and y/n, you're my partner.”

you rolled your eyes while everyone was whistling or smirking

it was no secret that you and jun didn't get along and he purposely tried to get on your nerves,,, heck everyone in the club said you two would fall in love at one point or another but you assured them by saying you'd rather choke

“your IQ is lower than room temperature junhui if you think that I want to train with you,” you hissed, as the two of you walked towards the machine.

“oh I'm sorry, I don't compare my intelligence quotient to someone who was deprived of oxygen when they were born,” he snapped, as he started warming up.

“you know what,” you spoke. “i'll just aggressively ignore your existence until you disappear.”

“maybe you should try doing it with that bird hair of yours, looks like worms will crawl out of it soon”

“why don't you look at your face first– ass clown?”

“why don't you look at your face first ass clown” he mimicked in a high pitched tone and all you wanted was to stab him there and then

“CAN YOU TWO SHUT UP WE'RE TRYING TO PRACTICE?” one of the team members yelled, causing you two to fall silent and warm up.

the next day,,, one of your best friends had begged you to go to her department because she had misplaced one of her things,, you only agreed on the basis that you'd be getting pizza

you were passing by the theatre to the class she told you to go to,, and you heard someone rehearsing their lines,, you went ahead to see who it was,,

of course it was jun with a script in his hands,,

and you don't know what it was,, but something just pulled you into the room,, maybe it was the way his words echoed of the walls,, the emotion in those alluring eyes of his,,

you actually sat down and listened to him instead of wanting to kill him,,, understanding what the hype was around him,,

like? you didn't even know this side of junhui existed??? excuse me? he was the biggest dick alive to you so you never really paid attention to anything nice that he did but this,,

you didn't even realize he had stopped until someone snapped you out of it

and you saw jun standing right in front of you

“well well well, it looks like I have a fan,” he smirked, folding his arms as he bent down to your level

“h-heck no,, I was just,,, looking for the um.....” you cursed your memory internally for forgetting.

“umm?” he teased,,

“shut up, I really was looking for something,” you snapped

“alright, alright” he surrenders,, raising his hands in defeat. “how was it though?” he asked.

“what?”

“the lines,, i'm sure you heard some of it.”

“they were um,,, good,” you reply,, shyly,, you've never been used to giving him compliments,,

jun nods as an awkward silence befalls the both of you,, you take it as a que to leave,, but then his voice stops you,,

“hey,, why don't you rehearse with me?” he suggested. “my actual partner is really busy and I need someone to rehearse with.”

“uh,, yeah sure?” you reply,,, as he hands you the script,,

jun started reciting his lines and you responded with the same enthusiasm

but the only thing that worried you was the last,, scene

in the script, it was written that jun's chracter would walk over to where you were, push your character against the wall and would try to initiate a kiss but your character would push him away

and so jun recited his last line, “i don't think I've ever tasted lips so fine, heck i'd taste them over and over again” he walked towards you, eventually pushing you against the wall

and your hEART WAS LIKE BADUMP!!

and his face was an inch from away from yours and you could feel his breath tickling your ear and you realized,,, how pretty wen junhui was,, how perfectly sculptured his face was,, those lips,, those cheekbones?? wait what??

and you were so mesmerized with how he acted on stage you didn't really realize you had to play a part as well

jun broke his stance, “you know you're supposed to push me away right?”

AND YOU BECAME RED

“y-yeah uh–but I–um remembered that I left the stove on!” you lied. “aND I DID SO BYE JUN!” you grabbed your bag and yEETED YOURSELF OUT OF THERE

and jun was confused but he ignored it and started rehearsing again

you on the other hand were trying to calm yourself like ???? It's just wen junhui? what the FUCK? Why is your heart racing so fast?? you were so confused? wHY? why is this happening

and the next time you saw him at training, oh dear god

“well if it isn't miss sunshine,” jun grinned.

“shut up jun, your existence makes me want to die,” you muttered,,, you felt your cheeks getting warm,,

“well, great, I think I'd be doing the world a favor.”

“jun if you're going to bother me one more time during practice I'm going to kick you so hard you will lose the ability to entertain a partner” you hissed, as you started warming up.

“nah,, you don't have the balls to do it,” he grinned, especially proud of the pun he used.

“you know what,,, I don't give a damn, so just leave me alone.”

“you give so many damns, they're visible from space,,,” he says,, his face is close to yours,, and you stop BREATHING

jun grins,, he thinks he has rendered you speechless,, as he goes up ahead to train with the boys,,

aND YOU FELT YOUR HEART WAS GOING TO JUST POP OUT OF YOUR CHEST

and now you were noticing all of these little things about him,, from his silly smile, to how he rolls his eyes, copies every small thing someone else does, to his goofy jokes, how his hair falls on his face, or just,,, him in general

all the while trying to keep your angry/annoyed facade so that he wouldn't pick up on it

but oh boy, it's wen junhui

and he notices every goddamn thing

including how much you've been staring at him especially in today's training session

he knew you were acting really weird since the rehearsal thingy but he was letting it slide because he thought you were upset or something and he didn't want to get on your nerves more

regardless, you decided to ignore jun from today onwards,, to stop feeling whatever you were feeling,,

and every thing was going great

you barely talked to him in rowing practice, you didn't attend the plays or even go anywhere near him

and jun,,,, he stopped annoying you as well

for two months

the whole damn university noticed but nobody dared to say anything ,,,,, in fear that you guys won't talk again

you were casually walking to the cafeteria and you heard something that just ,,,,, made your heart stop

“did you hear that jun got injured really badly? He was practicing in the theatre and this glass fell on his foot,,”

aND YOU DID A FULL 180 AND RAN AS FAST AS YOU COULD TO WHERE HE WAS

you had no idea why you suddenly cared so much like sure yeah, it was bad he got hurt but you were running so fast you felt your heart would pop out of your chest

the nurse eventually led you to where he was

and you saw his leg covered in bandages???

and your heart just broke

“hey what are you doing here?” jun asked. “i haven't seen you in like,,, two months?”

“jun I'm sorry–” you felt tears slide down your face. “i'm sorry I ignored you every time you tried to make a conversation with me or whatever I just,,, I had all these feelings that I couldn't figure out and I got scared–”

“hey hey hey, it's okay,” he cooed, as he opened his arms wide, only for them to wrap around you, as you cried in his chest. “no harm done, I promise.”

“no but jun– I was really inconsiderate and I just kept on feeling like I was missing something but I couldn't figure out what it was,” you cried out. “i felt ignoring you would be a solution but I just, I don't know?”

“hey, okay listen to me– what happened in these past two months happened–” he wiped the tears from your face. “but I hope you understand that the only reason I used to bother you a lot was because,, well,,, I really geniunely like you.”

“l-like me?” you stuttered.

“why do you think I annoy the crap out of you?”

“because you're an idiot, you like doing stuff like this,” you answered.

“but you're the only one I annoy?”

“okay that part I missed,” you give him a weak smile,, jun chuckles,, ruffling your hair,,

“in all seriousness though, I hated these two months. I felt like you were upset or something and I didn't want to risk hurting you even more so I stopped talking altogether because I thought you'd talk to me if I did,,” he admitted.

“its my fault this happened in the first place,” you responded. “and I now realize how stupid I am.”

“you're not stupid, you're just an ass clown,” he joked, a playful smile on his face.

“but i'm still sorry, junhui,” you sighed. “i really didn't want this to happen.”

“hey, it's okay– we both were right in our own places.”

“so um now what do we do?” you asked.

“well it depends,” he answered. “does someone want a cute, charming, handsome and brilliant boyfriend?” he grinned.

“only if he wants an amazing, beautiful, smart and talented girlfriend,” you answered.

“oh he sure as hell does,” jun grinned.

[crossdressingdeath]

Could you imagine if as LWJ was leaving BM the first time that A-Yuan looked really sad and started crying and begging LWJ to stay and he goes "but a-die you have to stay" and LWJ turns right back around is like "ok I live here now" and WWX goes "you can always leave later when he's asleep or tomorrow morning or something" but LWJ who very much knows what its like to feel abandoned by his parents and never get to see the parent he loved most is horrified and offended and he's like "NO I MUST STAY FOR A-YUAN AND BE THE A-DIE HE WANTS ME TO BE" and A-Yuan beams at him and the next day LWJ sends a letter to LXC telling him that WWX and him adopted a child and live together now in BM and LXC is just like "I knew something like this would happen but I didn't expect it to happen like this?!" So of course he has to go to BM to meet his nephew right? BUT LQR and NMJ refuse to let him go alone so they all roll up to BM ready for a fight and are greeted by the most adorable child who takes one look at them and goes "🤷🏻‍♂️ those are free uncles" and what are they all gonna do say no to A-Yuan?! Can anyone say no to him?! LQR may not be fond of WWX but now that he has a kid with LWJ that means they have to get married. Plus seeing that the people under his care are innocent he decides that he will accept the Wen remnants into his care as well as having all of WWX's be given merit to the Lan sect (but obviously stay under WWX's name they just get first dibs on them). WWX accepts the offer because the safety of the Wen is most important and he has a sense of duty right? So he tells himself he is only marry LWJ for the Wen and for A-Yuan (we all know the truth). Anyway they get married and WWX sees LWJ in wedding red and his heart is flying through his chest. Most of the cultivation world is like "ah Hanguang-jun truly is so honorable to do whats best for the cultivation world and take control of the evil Yiling Laozu" meanwhile WWX is like "ah yes 👍 👀🥵 LWJ has completely control of me". They are both so in love and happy. WWX gets to go to JL's ceremony and no one dies. He sees JYL again and she has a twinkle in her eyes cause she KNOWS. WQ and WN revolutionize medicine together. WWX invents all sorts of things. A-Yuan gains a bunch of siblings because WWX and LWJ see sad orphan kids and go "I guess we'll adopt them" and A-Yuan is like "free sibling". The junior quartet become bffs a lot sooner cause WWX and JYL are like "our kids will be together all the time." JZX and WWX surprisingly become good friends and they talk nerdy stuff all the time (look JZX may look like a prep but the dude is a total awkward nerd at heart). NMJ doesn't go I to qi deviation because WQ invents a way to reverse and prevent it. Eventually LXC marries NMJ and they are super happy. JGS dies under mysterious circumstances but no one is sad about it. With JZX as sect leader he promotes JGY to his right hand man because he thinks his brother has a good mind and good plans. The two of them bring the Jin sect into a new age. JGY doesn't have to worry about his place in the world or the sect because anyone that messes with him answers to JYL and really are you going to upset or disappoint her? (I sure as hell won't). Idk about JC maybe he dies of envy and jealousy? Maybe he is a whiney cry baby? Who cares he doesn't matter anyway.

Can’t believe that A-Yuan whining that he doesn’t want his new rich friend to leave unlocked the golden ending.

[minjiwritesstuff]

Spring Day

Pairing: Junhui (jun) x genneutral! reader

Song: Spring Day by BTS

Genre: fluff

Words: 1,5k +

#########

Winter has just begun. The cold, the snow, the storms. In short, nothing you loved much. You loved spring. The flowers in bloom, the sun bursting through the clouds, the budding trees. You loved going out and seeing nature coming back to life more and more every day.

One of the things you loved most about spring too was that your best friend would be back in your hometown. Because of his work, he couldn't be there as much as he wanted but each year on the first day of spring, he would come back and the two of you would meet and spend the day together.

Yet this day was still quite far. At least you still got to talk with him every day until his return. Junhui wouldn't miss a day; he would always call you at night before you went to sleep. It was your favorite part of the day. Being used to have him by your side for so long, throughout your entire childhood, and now suddenly seeing him only a few days a year, it was really hard on you, but it was also really hard on him. So has winter simply just begun, you were feeling really low, but you tried and make yourself happier by saying that you were closer to seeing your best friend than before.

Days went by and it was hard but it was manageable.

Day 52 of winter was particularly hard. You didn't have a good day at school and work after was miserable. To top it off when you came home your mother reprimanded you for something really stupid and it was the only thing that kept you from crying.

As you stormed upstairs to your room, tears were already falling down your cheeks. You slammed your door and plopped down in bed, laying under the blankets as you cried hot tears into your pillow. Not long after you heard the front door close, meaning your parents were gone, probably for a date or something since it's Friday night. The good side of this was that you were alone so as soon as they left you headed for a good shower, in hopes it would calm you down. It did but not as much as you would've wanted.

About half an hour later you were out and back in bed wearing one of Junhui's hoodies, your hair dripping wet from the shower. You laid down, sometimes crying, sometimes not as you waited for Junhui to call you, which he did about two hours later.

When you answered, you just finished crying for a good 15 minutes so your eyes were red and puffy and there was no way you could hide it.

''Hey are you ok?'' Junhui asked as soon as you answered the Skype call.

''I really miss you'' you said in a sob as tears fell down your cheeks again.

Seeing you like this broke Junhui's heart. He wished he could hold you and wipe your tears, saying it would be ok but he couldn't do that through a screen.

''y/n… what happened?'' he asked as he knew it simply couldn't be only because you missed him.

As you explained how of a hard day you had, Junhui listened closely, not missing any detail of your story.

''Oh y/n I'm so sorry… You didn't deserve to have a day like this I'm truly sorry'' he said trying to do everything he could to make you feel better through the screen.

''It would have been better if I didn't miss you as much'' you admitted while wiping your tears and sniffling.

''I know… I miss you too, so much… just earlier I told Minghao how I couldn't wait to see you again''.

You looked at Junhui and smiled slightly. You were glad to see that he was talking to you to the others. Of course, he would since you're his best friend, but it always feels nice to know you are appreciated, especially in hard times like this.

''There aren't a lot of days left, only 38 ok? I'll be here soon. It'll pass by so quickly that you won't have any time to miss me again''

You chuckled some at the silly words your best friend just said. It was silly because you both knew that you'd have plenty of time to miss him this much again, but he was trying his best to cheer you up, and it worked in some way.

''How about you tell me about your day? I don't want to set a bad mood by only talking about mine'' you said while pulling on the sleeves on the hoodie so you could put your hands inside of them.

Junhui nodded and smiled before going on about his day, telling you how Jihoon almost yelled after Mingyu for leaving his dirty dishes on the counter once again, which made you laugh.

As you both kept talking, you eventually felt tired but didn't say anything because you didn't want to end the call early. So you just talked, and eventually simply listened to what Junhui had to say, smiling as answers.

''Do you want to go eat a piece when I come? We could go to that restaurant where we went for your 12th birthday. You know where you embarrassed yourself by spilling water all over the waiter'' Junhui said chuckling as this was one of the greatest memory you both shared.

As he waited for an answer and noticed you didn't give any, Junhui looked up only to see you sleeping. Junhui smiled and looked at you for a little while. He took a picture with his phone and looked at you again.

''I'll see you soon y/n. Good night, sleep well'' he said before ending the call and going to sleep himself.

A few weeks later, winter was finally over. Spring was tomorrow and you couldn't wait to see Junhui again. Since Junhui was on his flight so he could be here early in the morning, he didn't call you that night, but it was always like this. Instead, he texted you saying how close he was getting. Of course, you didn't answer each time as you were asleep but it was his way of compensating for the fact that he didn't call you.

The next morning, the first morning of spring, you got up really early so that you could be at the airport to pick Junhui up. When you actually arrived, you received his text, saying he would be there in half an hour or so. Excitement spread in your body as you couldn't believe you actually would see him after all this time.

The minutes passed and eventually, you saw his plane land. You watched and waited to see him come by the door. Many people passed but no Junhui. You started to worry for some reason even if you had absolutely no reason to worry because you knew for a fact he was on that flight.

Then you saw him. After almost a year or so without him, there he was, walking to you. A new feeling arose in you and it was more than excitement. Almost like a spark? While he walked to you you thought of what that feeling could be and you were quick to understand that your feelings towards your best friend changed. You grew another actually. Wen Junhui wasn't only your best friend as of now. He was your crush.

When he got closer, you started running to him and you jumped in his arms when you were close enough. Dropping everything he had in his hands, Junhui caught you without a doubt and held you close to him.

As every year, you started crying in his arms, balling your eyes out as you repeated the same five words over and over.

''I missed you so much''

''I missed you too y/n, you have no idea'' he said while rubbing your back.

You two went home so he could drop his things in your room and then you headed to the restaurant so you could eat a piece.

When you got seated, you both talked like never before and after a little bit, you noticed Junhui's phone lighting up because of a notification, which was probably one of the boys asking if he landed safely.

But one thing you also noticed was his background. And it oddly looked like a sleeping you.

''Junhui?''

''Yeah?''

''Is that me on your background?'' you asked while raising an eyebrow.

Junhui looked at his phone and then at you before blushing.

''Maybe? Why''

''Well, I think it's quite creepy to have a picture of me sleeping on your lock screen'' you said teasingly.

Junhui looked down still blushing and he smiled.

''Well, while we're at it. There might be something I need to talk to you about'' he said.

You looked at him and he did the same.

''I think… No, I mean… I know. I know'' he chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

''I like you y/n'' he blurted out.

You looked at him and smiled.

''I like you too Junhui'' you said, which made him smile.

But then you looked down some.

''What's wrong?'' he asked.

''It's just that… It's gonna be hard not having you around'' you said.

''Well… Come back with me?''.

You looked back up at him.

''What?''

''Come back with me to Korea! What's stopping you?''

''Well I mean I have my job and school…''

''You can always find a job there and you can finish school online!''

You smiled some as it made sense.

''You're right… I think it could work''

Junhui smiled and grabbed your hand.

''It's gonna be so amazing to not have to wait for spring to see you'' he said.

Spring, which brought back the flowers, the trees, and the sun, also brought back Junhui, forever.

############

ok so I've had this in my askbox for way too long and I'm SO sorry it took this long to write. i literally didn't know how to write it but I finally came up with something and I hope you guys will love it

[hellchilde]

The Thing With Feathers

wow it feels like ten million years since i posted a real fic

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Sòng Lán | Sòng Zǐchēn/Xiǎo Xīngchén, Song Lan | Song Zichen & Xiao Xingchen, Xiao Xingchen & Xue Yang | Xue Chengmei

Characters: Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan | Song Zichen, Xue Yang | Xue Chengmei, Wen Qing

Additional Tags: Disabled Character, Blindness, Blind Xiǎo Xīngchén, Lack of Communication, Established Relationship, brief scene with blood, Recreational Drug Use, (but it's just weed), Alcohol, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Cock Warming, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Reincarnation Vibes

Words: 8970

Summary: Sometimes, all you need to throw your life into sharp focus it to stumble over a dying criminal in the street and let it consume your life.

Or: Xiao Xingchen finds Xue Yang injured alongside the road and the rhythm of the carefully constructed life he has with Song Lan no longer seems entirely stable.

It happens when he's walking home from class.

This time, the reason for Xiao Xingchen's loss of vision is not so noble or meaningful. Sometimes things happen for a reason, but sometimes things just happen and it's shit luck and you have to make due with the cards you're dealt. Sometimes you're too young when your vision deteriorates to nothing, but at least that means you don't have to see their pitying looks in the encroaching darkness. But sometimes, there is a good man who is there for you and can help you pick up the pieces when your life changes too quickly for you to deal with. That is a spot of good luck, because this man is someone you love and could picture a life with, even if it's not the life your parents had intended, or the life you set out to start back when the possibilities were endless. This time, Xiao Xingchen learns the lines of Song Lan's face with his fingertips before his sight is completely gone, and lets him reshape their lives to accommodate this unforeseen obstacle to what could have been a story of happily ever after.

With a white cane in hand and a determined set to his face, Xiao Xingchen walks the increasingly familiar path between home, subway, school, subway, home. Never did he plan on learning a new language in his late twenties, but that language is braille, and he refuses to be totally helpless in a world designed against him. Audiobooks help, but he can't listen to them while he walks, has to stay vigilant with his remaining senses or let himself be pummeled by people who won't see him. Shame the onus has to be on him. So it might be dark, but maybe it's not, when he trips over something and sprawls inelegantly, embarrassingly to the ground. His cheeks and ears are burning, he dropped his cane but finds it quickly. Stupid, stupid, he should have felt it.

He reaches back to feel what he tripped over, and feels fabric, flesh. He gropes his way up, increasingly concerned when the person doesn't move or make a sound, and he smells blood. Then finally he feels the blood, sticky and warm but cooling, and is worried he is feeling a corpse until he feels the chest rise and fall and hears the wheeze of breath. He snatches his hands away, worried, and scrambles for the phone in his pocket. It has a voice-to-text option, and that makes up for the lack of buttons. He's never had to dial 9-1-1, and he thinks his voice on the line to the operator is nervous and panicked. He can't even tell her for certain which street he's on, except that it's five blocks from the campus where he had class.

That must be enough. The EMT's arrive and take stock of the situation, and they reassure him, and when he asks them if he can ride in the ambulance, they agree without too much argument. The ride to the hospital is horrible, though, because he has no idea where he's going or how far away and every turn makes him motion sick. He still doesn't consider leaving behind the man he found. The emergency room is chaotic, but one of the EMT's spares the time to lead him out to the waiting room, and someone eventually gets him some water.

“He's in surgery, and then they'll be admitting him for observation,” one of the staff says to him. He's already given his report to the police, explained his innocent side. He's not a suspect for what appears to be a violent crime, but they took his contact information. Otherwise, Xiao Xingchen doesn't know much. “You don't know him, so … you can go home if you want. I'm sure he would appreciate the kindness of a stranger.”

“Were you able to find an emergency contact?” he asks. So far, he has been the only visitor present.

“No,” the staff says. “Don't worry, the police are looking into it.”

“I would prefer to stay with him,” Xiao Xingchen says, because he does always try to be noble, even without a sword in his hands.

The staff member, maybe a nurse or a receptionist but probably not a doctor, reaches out to touch his hands where they're clasped protectively around his cane. He makes a face because he wouldn't have accepted the touch if asked permission, but at least it's kind. “You're a good man,” the staff member says. “We'll help you to the waiting room near where he'll be resting.”

At some point, someone gives him a sandwich wrapped in plastic and a cup of coffee. The sandwich is ham and soggy, but he eats a little of it, and the coffee tastes old and watery. At some point, Xiao Xingchen sleeps in his chair. At some point, someone informs him that the man made it through surgery and is sleeping. At some point, Xiao Xingchen awakens to the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket.

“You didn't come home,” Song Lan's voice says, strained. “I was worried.”

“I'll be home soon,” Xiao Xingchen replies. “I have to make sure he made it through. I'm the one who found him, it's my responsibility.” He doesn't like the hospital, which is cold and antiseptic, and his chair isn't comfortable. He's still going to stay. He has to, even if he has to rely on the kindness of strangers to find the bathroom.

Song Lan sighs, too familiar with this side of him. “Call me to come pick you up,” he says quietly. “The hospital isn't far.”

Xiao Xingchen says goodbye and hangs up and only resents a little that the offer makes him feel helpless. He rubs at his eyes, which feel gritty and sore, and locates the remains of his soggy sandwich to at least get something in his stomach. He listens to the sounds of the hospital around him, beeping machines and ringing phones and quiet voices and people rushing by in non-skid shoes. He seems to be politely ignored, or perhaps forgotten, but he doesn't know how long it's supposed to take until he learns what happened.

At some point, another member of staff approaches him and sits beside him, clearing her throat softly. “I have some news, Mr. Xiao,” she says, accented Mandarin. He tries not to be insulted that they think his English isn't good. “The police have found out the identity of the man you found. Apparently … he's wanted for murder, and some other crimes. He works for some very bad men.”

Xiao Xingchen frowns, the information hard to take in. A criminal? He saved a criminal?

“You did a good thing,” she continues. “They'll bring him in to face justice. They wanted me to thank you.”

He manages to nod, trying not to reveal how shaken he is by the news. Why should it bother him so much? He doesn't know this man and has no connection to him other than finding him mostly dead on his walk to the subway. And yet he still feels betrayed. He did something good, he saved a man, and he turns out to be a criminal. It doesn't feel fair, but so little in his life feels fair.

His intentions have been to stay until the man wakes up and introduce himself, get to know him, but he no longer wants that. Instead he digs out his phone as soon as the nurse leaves and dials Song Lan's number to request a ride and pulls himself to his feet, legs feeling stiff from a long night spent in an uncomfortable chair. He still has that feeling that he should at least peek in on the man that he saved, but then, what's the use in that when he hasn't peeked at anything since his vision gave up on him?

It doesn't take very much help from others to make it down to the front of the building and out the doors – the elevator had braille, and the flow of traffic was relatively logical. He takes a breath of fresh air and stands by the curb to wait for Song Lan, his cane clasped in his hands. He hasn't bothered to ask the time, but by the temperature outside and the birds and the angle of the sun he can feel on his skin, he guesses it's midmorning. He's been out all night. No wonder Song Lan was worried.

He hears the car, and the door opens, and there's Song Lan's voice instructing him to get in. He reaches out to feel the edge of the car door and then climbs inside, settling gratefully into the familiar passenger seat to let Song Lan pull away from the hospital.

“Did he wake up?” Song Lan asks after a few moments of silence.

“I don't know,” Xiao Xingchen replies, collapsing his cane back down to make more room in the footwell for his legs. “They told me they found out who he was. A criminal wanted for murder, with mob connections. I didn't want to stay after that. I'm sure they'll arrest him.” He's still not sure how he feels about that. Bad, bad, like there's rocks in his stomach.

Song Lan thinks about that, his driving much smoother than that of the ambulance, mindful of not taking the turns too quickly. “Well, it's a good thing he's off the streets,” he says at last. “And good that you didn't let him die. It's best that he faces the consequences of what he's done.”

Xiao Xingchen nods and chews on his bottom lip, turning towards the window to feel the sun on his face. He's tired, more tired than before, and he thinks he'll sleep all day even if it'll totally throw off his sleep schedule. He feels depressed, for no reason he can put a finger on. How had he been the one to stumble on that man?

He takes Song Lan's help here and there to get inside, finding it reassuring to always reach out and find him there, and then they are safely behind a door and he finds the bed and collapses into it. When he wakes up again, Song Lan is stretched out beside him, breathing deep and even in sleep. Xiao Xingchen sighs, rolls over, and scoots unobtrusively out of bed to find the cigarettes he has hidden in a corner of the closet in case of emergency. He secludes himself on the fire escape to smoke in peace and rub his temple while he attempts to figure out what he's feeling.

He hasn't figured it out by the time he's finished one cigarette, and he has just enough self control to cut himself off after one, then retreats back inside to at least pretend to do some work.

~

The next time Xiao Xingchen hears about Xue Yang (which is the name of the man he saved, that murderer and mobster and … rapist, for all he knew) he is on the news. He emerges from their bedroom one morning in search of the coffee pot and some breakfast, and Song Lan actually has the TV on, a rare occurrence this early in the morning.

“... released from City Hospital this morning, in custody of the police,” the reporter says. “Xue Yang has known connections with alleged crime lord Wen Ruohan, and charges against him include murder, arson, assault, armed robbery, and fraud. Yang will be facing these charges in a court of law, following investigation into the listed charges, and is currently being kept in custody at an undisclosed location. Yang was found two weeks ago by a civilian on the street following a vicious stabbing, supposedly an attempt on his life carried out by a rival gang. The investigation into Yang's attack is still ongoing with no suspects.”

Xiao Xingchen feels his face fold into a frown, and he steps forward until he finds Song Lan, letting him press a bowl into his hands and starting to eat without really tasting.

“I guess he can walk now,” Song Lan comments with a dry voice.

“What does he look like?” It doesn't matter. Xiao Xingchen still wants to know, to satisfy some perverse curiosity about that evil man he happened to save from bleeding out on the street.

“Like a punk,” Song Lan says. “Like a smug little punk. Like he's going to get away with all of it.” He sets his bowl down and leans in to kiss Xingchen's cheek, running his hand over the other as if he can smooth out the frustration there. “Don't listen to too much of this. I'll be back tonight.” And then he leaves, the sound of his footsteps circling the kitchen island, pausing to pick up his coat and bag, pausing to slip on his shoes, and then the sound of the front door.

Xiao Xingchen takes a few more bites of the food – it's oatmeal, and it's alright, but it's not the way he would have prepared it – and the news is still on in the background, now on to some other story that he cares less about. He puts the bowl down and goes for coffee next, still half the pot left and soy creamer set out nearby. Thoughtful. Song Lan takes care of him.

He doesn't follow the direction. He gets his tablet and sets it up to search for this Wen Ruohan guy. He doesn't keep enough track of the news to have any idea about organized crime, but once his tablet understands what he's asking of it, it pulls up some articles. The text reader's voice renders the shocking events dry and bland, but at least it's something. It makes it sound like Wen Ruohan has fingers in pretty much every bit of crime in the city, maybe further out too. Not surprising that a criminal like Xue Yang would take up with him, do some of his dirty work. The top of the pack never lets that kind of thing touch him. That's why they can't make anything stick when it comes to bringing charges against him. The movies get that much right.

His next search is for Xue Yang himself. Most of what pulls up is the recent stuff about him being in the hospital, the stabbing, the murder charge they want him for this time. Few of the articles he finds come with image descriptions, so if there are pictures, he doesn't know what they are. He can access the public parts of Xue Yang's criminal record. People keep getting his name wrong, calling him “Mr. Yang.” He listens to the text reader list the dates and bare-bones facts of the previous charges. Some of them he had been arrested for, served time. Others seemed to disappear too quickly.

When Song Lan comes home, he is still on the couch, bent over his tablet, hair uncombed and falling over his shoulders and still wearing the loungewear he had put on that morning, which doesn't really count as clothes. He startles when he suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder, too wrapped up in what he had been listening to and thinking about to pay attention to the sound of the door opening or Song Lan saying his name.

“What are you … oh,” Song Lan says, and Xiao Xingchen feels the presence of him reading over his shoulder. “I see you didn't follow my advice.”

“I wanted to know more,” Xiao Xingchen says, feeling oddly defensive. He switches the tablet dark so Song Lan can't read over his shoulder. “Maybe he's a smug punk, but I saved him. I want to know what kind of man I saved.” Why he's weirdly obsessive about this, he still doesn't understand. Why he wants to know more of these dark details. It isn't like it gives him a thrill – well, not a good thrill, that would be kind of sick. It isn't like he's ever even interacted with Xue Yang. Except that he spent a good portion of one day covered in his blood and waiting for him to wake up at the hospital, and for some reason that made it feel like Xue Yang owed him something.

Song Lan sighs so it stirs the hairs on the top of his head, then pets them down again. Not the first time Xiao Xingchen has forgotten to comb his hair, especially on days he stays in. It's a worried kind of touch. “Will you please turn it off for a little while for dinner?”

Xiao Xingchen considers being contrary and refusing, but his stomach rumbles as a reminder that he only broke away long enough to eat some pickles and crackers in a lunch that required minimal effort but could hardly be counted as real food. He submits, then, pulling Song Lan's hand down from his head to kiss his inner wrist. He rises to his feet to follow Song Lan to the table, sits beside him and takes the prepared plate. Song Lan must have guessed some of his mood that morning, because a couple of the dishes are among his favorites from this particular restaurant.

That softens him, and he feels a little bad for considering being contrary or brushing off Song Lan's worry as being patronizing. Guilty, even. Doesn't Song Lan have enough to deal with without his boyfriend being bratty? It's the unfortunate truth of their circumstances that Song Lan shoulders more of the financial responsibilities, more of the housekeeping, more of the cooking. Xiao Xingchen does what he can, and he's gotten to be a pretty fair hand at cooking even without being able to read labels. It's still more for Song Lan.

Xiao Xingchen finishes up his pad see ew, wipes his mouth clean, and gets up to drape himself over Song Lan's lap. His chopsticks clatter lightly on the edge of the plate, and then his hands settle on Xiao Xingchen's waist. Xingchen feels a smile spread over his face, and his hands slide into Song Lan's hair, and he leans in for a kiss.

Being intimate like this has changed. As his sight faded, his other senses sharpened. In some ways it's useful, like being able to so distinctly smell the differences between spices, but his skin is now also more sensitive. Every touch, every brush of lips or teeth, has the potential to be overwhelming. It had caught him off-guard at first, the sheer electricity of it lighting him up more vividly than any lit room. It had been intense enough to scare him, and hence to scare Song Lan, and since then his touches had grown increasingly light and gentle, wary of startling him again. Or perhaps it is that Song Lan is no longer so certain of sharing himself with someone who can no longer see him. He has never been the most touchy-feely person, and Xiao Xingchen wouldn't blame him if the shine of their relationship had faded by now. Occupying that strange liminal space where he was part caretaker, part boyfriend – that can't be easy.

So how can Xiao Xingchen ask for that firmer touch, the way they could get so carried away with each other the way they used to when they were younger and more carefree? What right does he have to demand even more?

He still kisses Song Lan wild and reckless, soft lips and sharp teeth catching at Song Lan's mouth, kissing the flavor of Thai food off his lips. Song Lan sighs against him, hands slipping up under Xiao Xingchen's oversized cardigan and the t-shirt underneath, circling against his waist. There are calluses on his fingers, just rough enough to feel, and at least while they're kissing Song Lan isn't protesting. Xingchen squirms slightly, trying to get his hands to slide down, as if he could wiggle them down. They stay where they are, though Song Lan's grip tightens, starting to dig into his skin.

Xiao Xingchen breaks the kiss to pant softly against Song Lan's lips, only now realizing that he has one hand tangled up in his hair, the other pressed flat against his chest, feeling the steady thud of Song Lan's heart beneath his skin. His own heartbeat feels like it's echoing that beat, knocking up hopefully against his ribs. Maybe this time … maybe this time it would work out. Maybe this time he could somehow convey the kind of attention he was craving, and maybe Song Lan would be amenable to fucking his brains out.

Sure enough, Song Lan shifts his grip, finally down even if it is over his yoga pants, cups his ass and stands up with him clinging koala-style. Xiao Xingchen has no intention of letting go, pressing kisses into Song Lan's jaw, his throat, over his lips, wherever he can reach, his arms settling around Song Lan's strong shoulders and his back arching to press closer against him. This is better, this is closer to what he wants.

Song Lan deposits him on the bed, doesn't drop him, just setting him carefully on the mattress like fine china. But still he crawls over him, whispers kisses into his skin, teeth scraping lightly down his throat. The light touches make Xiao Xingchen gasp and writhe, his skin feeling so oversensitive that he can't even stand still wearing his clothes. Song Lan hovers over him, on his hands and knees, still barely touching him except for the brush of his lips.

“Zichen,” he breathes, needy, eager.

Song Lan pulls back, and Xingchen can just weather the feeling of being watched, breathing and trying not to feel self-conscious beneath the weight of Song Lan's gaze. His fingers are still in Song Lan's hair, twisting and trying to pull him back down. He bears it for a few moments, then stretches up to try and find his lips.

But before he can make it, Song Lan's hand takes his own, unpeeling his fingers from his hair and kissing his palm before pressing his hand to Xingchen's chest and sitting up. The gesture has an air of finality to it, and Xiao Xingchen can't help it, he covers his face with his hands. It's like being blind has erased any ability he had to control his expression, and he can only imagine what his face is doing right now, because it certainly feels all twisted up and hurt and mad and frustrated.

“I'm sorry,” Song Lan says, because he isn't good at reading people but he isn't blind, and he sounds regretful. “I'm sorry, it just wasn't...”

Xiao Xingchen rolls away, taking a moment, then sits up, his back facing Song Lan. “It's fine,” he says, as though merely saying the words will make it so, and he knows his voice sounds too tight. “It's fine,” he repeats. He wishes there was a switch in his body that he could just turn off, rather than having to sit with the coiling warmth still lingering in his stomach, refusing to dissipate just because Song Lan is no longer touching him.

He feels Song Lan touch his hair lightly, then the shift of the mattress as he stands up. The ensuite shower turns on shortly after, and entertains the vindictive thought of forcing his way in and pushing Song Lan up on the shower wall and just...

He doesn't know what. Song Lan had already made his “no” very clear, and Xiao Xingchen has no intention of crossing that particular boundary. He knows there wouldn't be any coming back from that. Taking care of himself feels equally out of the question. It's not what he craves, and doing it alone feels empty.

He goes to clean up after their dinner, finding some comfort in scrubbing off the plates and plunging his hands in the soapy water. It doesn't perfectly redirect his energy, but it takes the edge off. Then he steps out to the fire escape again, retreats, cowardice. The cold, damp wind slaps him in the face, and he takes a lungful of the foggy air, pressing his back into the wrought iron to feel it dig in.

He should tell Song Lan. There are things he should say, explanations, verbalizing his desire and upset and love and frustration. How it feels to be treated as an invalid, even when Song Lan does it so soft and gentle. Song Lan will tell his part too, the part where his desire can't always keep up with Xingchen's and that particular quirk where touching makes his skin crawl, where he treasures Xingchen and wants to protect him by wrapping him up tight in bubble wrap, kept and sweet and placed high on a shelf never to be touched.

He kicks the fire escape, just to make himself feel a little better, and wedges himself in. He should have brought his tablet. He could have done more research. Without it, he just listens to the sounds of the city at night, traffic and ambulances, someone singing, a baby crying in the distance. He lets it all flow and melt around him, lets his body relax into becoming the ambient temperature of the fog, cold and misty and amorphous.

By the time Xiao Xingchen retreats back inside, his thoughts are as cool and calm as the air outside. He slips into bed, fitting into the space behind Song Lan, slotting in, his knees in the crook behind Song Lan's knees, his cold nose tucked against the back of his neck. Song Lan smells clean, and Xingchen feels sorry for earlier, silly for letting himself get carried away. He's happy here. He is happy.

That thought circles his brain as he drifts off to sleep.

~

Time passes. Xiao Xingchen dials back his research to what he thinks is a normal amount of interest. There is always news to follow – Xue Yang seems to be at the same time the media's darling and their favorite villain. The tabloids keep commenting on how he looks, calling him angelic and sweet-faced while at the same time condemning him for what seemed like an ever-increasing number of crimes. Song Lan quickly learns to simply leave him to it, and in return Xingchen can moderate himself so he doesn't lose entire days to sitting on the couch and burying himself in news and police reports.

Life is pretty much normal. There's a routine, a rhythm, comfortable and familiar. Xiao Xingchen further adjusts to life in a world that isn't built to accommodate him, his steps ever more certain on his path. He can visualize his future stretching before him, and none of it looks bad. No surprises, no tragedy. He figures losing his sight is bad enough to fulfill the quota for drama for this lifetime.

Xiao Xingchen listens to the trial when it starts. From what he can tell, this is apparently very fast, but he doesn't know enough about the American justice system to confirm that. There's plenty of media coverage on it, but despite their efforts to highlight the most exciting parts, the trial itself seems to be fairly dull, nothing like the TV shows. That doesn't decrease Xiao Xingchen's interest, but it does help to prevent him from focusing too much on it.

Song Lan has a launch party for work. Xiao Xingchen doesn't know enough about computers to know what it's really for, some piece of software or another, something Song Lan has been working on for months. It's a cause for celebration, and while Xingchen doesn't relish the need to dress up, he lets Song Lan help him with it. Most of his wardrobe is in interchangeable shades of neutral, white and black and gray – he made sure of that before his sight was gone. But it's better to be safe than sorry and accidentally choose something inappropriate or clashing. Anyway, he knows Song Lan quietly enjoys dressing him, making sure he looks nice. It suits the same part of his personality that's so good at the nitty-gritty details of code, a fierce, strict streak of perfectionism.

Xiao Xingchen has no doubt that they make a sharp picture when they arrive. He left his cane at home, since it would be too cumbersome in a party setting, and thus holds Song Lan's arm to navigate their way inside. It's a club, it smells like a club, alcohol and bodies and several layers of perfume and cologne, and there's music playing with a low bassline that reverberates in his ribcage. It's probably dark, which means that people will be asking all night long why he's wearing his dark tinted glasses. Hopefully sticking close against Song Lan's side will decrease the need to explain.

Parties like this are always a little awkward. Xingchen is friendly and willing, but he doesn't speak the same language as these technology prodigies. Maybe he could have wandered and found other partners of Song Lan's coworkers, but he was always wary of losing track of Song Lan in an unfamiliar place. And Song Lan is good, he's considerate, but sometimes he gets so wrapped up in whatever conversation he gets involved in that Xingchen falls by the wayside despite being attached to his arm.

It's still fun and interesting to be out of the apartment, chatting with people, picking canapes off the trays, accepting the drink that Song Lan passes to him. It's one of the fruity ones that he likes, but strong enough that he can taste the alcohol under the juice. He's playing the role of arm candy tonight, but he lets it be fun, lets himself be the sweet and sparkly juxtaposition to Song Lan's dry, serious demeanor. Song Lan's coworkers forgive him easily when he doesn't know the more technical details and humor him by talking about other, more accessible topics.

Inevitably, though, they turn back to talking shop, and Xingchen tries to follow but it all starts to sound like gibberish. He sighs and ceases to pay much attention to the conversation since they're not really paying attention to him, and he sips his drink, wishing the music were better. Though, of course, the inevitable result of sipping a drink all evening is that he has to use the bathroom. Xingchen realizes it with some dismay. There's no good way to bring it up without sounding like a complaining toddler, but he doesn't even know which way to point himself to find it if he were to just wander off. So he just … waits. Song Lan will have to go eventually as well.

Except the situation is steadily growing towards urgent, and Song Lan shows no indication of breaking away from his conversation, focused the way he can get sometime. Xiao Xingchen starts to fidget anxiously, hoping to somehow telepathically convey what he needs. Unfortunately, he doesn't magically develop psychic powers. He's inches from giving in to the embarrassment of asking to be escorted to the bathroom when he feels another hand on his free arm.

“Hi,” a female voice says, one that he doesn't recognize. “Song Lan, do you mind if I borrow him for a minute?”

Xiao Xingchen could curse, and desperately hopes that Song Lan makes up an excuse to keep him from being pulled to another conversation with strangers. He can't focus on being friendly when his body is screaming at him. He feels Song Lan look up in surprise, finally breaking from his own conversation.

“Oh, right, of course,” he says, gently taking Xingchen's hand from his arm to pass him over to the woman. “Xingchen, this is Wen Qing. She's a doctor and a friend.”

“Alright,” Xingchen says, voice cracking, shooting Song Lan what he hopes is a desperate look before Wen Qing tugs him away. He's panicking, he thinks he might die, he wants the earth to swallow him up. He clears his throat and touches Wen Qing's hand, her pace never slowing. “I'm sorry, I'm terribly sorry, but...”

Before he can finish, she pulls him through a doorway. Their footsteps turn echo-y, and he feels a glimmer of hope. She continues pulling, then places his hand on what feels like the handle of a urinal. He makes a sound, desperate still, and feels for the edges of the porcelain before letting go of her entirely so he can relieve himself.

“You looked like you were suffering over there,” she says, only far enough away to give him the space he needs to get the job done. “I know how Song Lan can get too intense in his conversations and forget the world around him.”

“Thank you,” he breathes, shooting a small smile in the direction of her voice. “Unfamiliar places are always a little difficult, especially without my cane. I hope it wasn't too obvious.”

“Not to the tech nerds,” she says, putting her hand on his shoulder to help lead him over to the sinks after he gets his slacks fastened up. “They might be geniuses, but they're oblivious to any kind of subtlety. Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you,” Xiao Xingchen says again, washing his hands and then relaxing a hip against the sink. He isn't in a rush to go back out to the music he doesn't like. “So you're a doctor?”

“Cardiac surgeon,” Wen Qing clarifies. “I normally don't get to see below the belt. But don't worry, I'll remain professional.” It sounds like she's smiling too. Xingchen isn't surprised to find that she's friends with Song Lan, with that dry kind of humor.

“I wasn't too worried about it,” Xingchen says. “Do you come to a lot of these things?”

“A few. I was dating one of them for a while, made some friends. They keep inviting me, and the appetizers are good, and every once in a while I get to help somebody's poor boyfriend find the bathroom.” He feels her pull his jacket straight, adjusting his collar slightly. “So. Been together long?”

“Since college,” Xingchen tells her. Maybe she isn't very close with Song Lan, to have not heard the story before. “Actually, we met in the airport when I arrived in America. I was so lost and overwhelmed, and he stepped in to help me find my way in a new country and a big city. It was just a happy coincidence that we ended up going to the same school while he was getting his graduate degree. And then from there, it's basically just history.”

Wen Qing laughs and touches his shoulder again. “Somehow, I doubt it's 'just history,' but we can leave it at that, if you want,” she says. “That's very sweet. I'm just glad you look as lost by all their talk as I am. Do you smoke?”

“Ah...” He doesn't want to lie, but also isn't sure about how likely it is his answer would get back around to Song Lan.

“Doesn't matter,” she says quickly, taking his arm again to lead him out. “Come hang out with the wives. We're all the wives, regardless of gender.”

Together, they wind through the party, past snippets of conversation and a speaker rolling out bassline in waves. Wen Qing pulls him out of a door, and the sound of music is dampened. A comforting cloud of cigarette smoke wafts around them, and there's a soft hum of conversation.

“Hey, wives,” Wen Qing crows. “I bring fresh blood.”

“One of us,” someone chants, and Xiao Xingchen grins and gives an irreverent salute.

The wives are apparently the company he was craving. He no longer has to pretend to understand or be interested in the technobabble, and instead he can pluck crackers smothered in cream cheese and prosciutto off of the platter that they stole from the catering staff and sip from the bottle of wine that they had also stolen. He can listen to one of them chatter about a thesis project on Emily Dickinson and steal drags from cigarettes and blunts passed to him. It's closer to the way he and Song Lan operated in college, parting for their own friend groups before drifting back together, and the wives are closer to the kind of people he would choose for friends, free to be bohemian while their significant others take advantage of the tech boom and bring home the bacon.

Xiao Xingchen hasn't bothered to check the time on his phone, but it feels late by the quality of the air and the conversation. They've stopped talking about anything of substance, and he's leaning on Wen Qing's shoulder. He's a little drunk and a little high and feeling soft and easy. Song Lan's touch doesn't even startle him when it comes to rest on his shoulder.

“Let's go home,” he suggests in a low murmur, and Xingchen peels himself up. The wives moan and complain, and someone reaches for him, fingers catching on the edge of his jacket with a soft cry of, “Chen-chen, don't leave us!”

Xiao Xingchen gives his goodbyes and makes his promises to stay in touch – his phone is full of their phone numbers. He leans on Song Lan to make their way out and down to meet their car. They slide into the back seat, and their hands find each other on the seat, fingers folding together in the most intimate touch Song Lan would allow in public.

“Time's it?” Xiao Xingchen asks, sleepy and smiley and soft.

“Close to one,” Song Lan replies. He sounds a little drunk too, and his thumb runs over the space between Xingchen's thumb and index finger, fitting into the hollow. “Did you have fun?”

“Mmm,” he hums and smiles more. “They were nice. Wen Qing was helpful, and you know how useless I am when you talk shop.”

“I should have known you'd get along with them. I should have introduced you earlier. I'm sorry you were bored with me.” He snorts softly. “Chen-chen.”

Xiao Xingchen's giggle is significantly less dignified, but at least it's not too loud out of consideration for their poor driver. “You know I can't help if they think I'm cute!”

Song Lan doesn't protest, but he doesn't have to. They're back home, and he thanks the driver, and comes around to help Xingchen out of the car and back into their building. They're quiet due to the late hour, so the sound of the keys feels like it echoes in the still night air. Xiao Xingchen lets himself inside with a sigh of relief and kicks his shoes off, and opens his mouth to suggest they go to bed only to have Song Lan's lips and teeth and tongue providing an effective gag.

Song Lan backs him against the wall in the entryway, and his hands span Xingchen's waist, broad and solid. Xingchen can taste the alcohol in his breath, but he probably tastes the same. His head spins, his stomach flips, feeling simultaneously over- and under-fed on those canapes, but thrilled with possibility. The kiss is rough, with teeth, not like delicate good morning kisses or gentle good night ones that he's gotten used to. This kiss demands, and expects him to answer – and so he does.

Xiao Xingchen moans into it and grips back at Song Lan's shirt, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Sleep is no longer on his mind. Instead, he has to get his hands on Song Lan's skin or he might just evaporate. He tugs until he can get Song Lan's shirt out of his slacks and he can slide his hands underneath, flat against the skin of his stomach. His skin is warm, solid, and he can feel the frantic rate of his breathing beneath his touch. It feels like a dream, like it's so much that it can't be real, and at the same time it's so real, so perfect, everything he wants.

It feels like Song Lan needs this as badly as he does. With hands tight around Xingchen's arms he pulls him away from the wall, further into the apartment. Xiao Xingchen assumes they'll go to the bedroom, to the bed as usual, but he finds himself bent forward over the couch instead, the familiar fabric under his fingers and the back digging into his stomach. Song Lan presses against him, rubs against his ass, pushes his shirt up and runs his hands over his back. Xiao Xingchen lets out a shaky breath and pushes back against him, just as demanding and desperate.

Finally, finally Song Lan reaches around to get his slacks unfastened, pushes at them impatiently, and locates the zipper to shove it down. Xiao Xingchen squirms to help get them down his legs and winds up with them stuck around his knees, but at least it's some relief. Song Lan seems to think that's enough; his fingers grip into the flesh of Xingchen's ass, squeezing and massaging and spreading. He pants into the couch cushions, his breath coming back hot and wet against his cheeks and the sensitive tip of his cock bumping up against the back of the couch in a way that isn't altogether pleasant but at least it is some sensation. He's hard, he needs it, his skin feels like it's sparking with heat at every brush of Song Lan's fingers.

He remembers with some despair that they don't have any lube in the living room and is just about ready to straighten up, drag Song Lan back to the bedroom so they can do it properly. Then he hears something tear and feels slick fingers slide against his ass. Song Lan came prepared. Such a good, thoughtful boyfriend, even if it is frankly out of character for him to anticipate sex like this. When it happens, if it happens, there's so much delicate kissing and foreplay and it's consistently in the bed or the shower where they're prepared. But he can't even speculate on it, Song Lan's fingers feel too good, pushing the lube inside him fast, impatient. He wants to spread his legs but he's trapped by his slacks and can only pant helplessly against the couch cushions.

Thoughtfully, Song Lan's clean hand reaches down to brush his hair out of his face, tracing the line of his jaw. The fingers inside him spread once more, then slide out, and that's all the warning he really gets before he feels Song Lan's cock press steady and inexorable inside him.

The sound he lets out would be embarrassing under any other circumstance, low and broken and wet. It's been long enough that he almost can't handle the stretch. It's almost too much and makes him choke. His knees feel weak. His spit is making a wet spot on the couch cushions. Song Lan still doesn't stop, not until his hips are pressed flush against Xingchen's ass. His breath is coming heavy now, ragged. He's thoughtful again when he pauses to let then both get used to it, his hands resting on Xingchen's hips, one of them tacky with drying lube, and he pets soothingly at one hipbone like Xingchen is a skittish horse.

Like that, Xiao Xingchen remembers that he's supposed to breathe, and he takes a deep, shaking breath before letting it out loudly, and he can feel it relax down his spine. Song Lan pets him again, approvingly, then eases out of him only to slam back inside. Xiao Xingchen chokes on another cry, and that seems to encourage him, the pace rough and quick.

Time ceases to exist. Xingchen can't see, obviously, but the pleasure feels like starbursts of color in his mind. The apartment is very quiet, except for the wet slap of skin and too much lube (Song Lan was always careful like that) and their labored breathing, punctuated with moans and whimpers punched out of Xingchen's throat. It is so rough, he knows he is going to be sore, aching and remembering this for days. But it's so good too, Song Lan's cock stretching him and hollowing him out, making a space inside him. He's so hard it hurts, and his own cock is leaking. Song Lan's hand reaches down to cup it protectively, preventing it from smearing over the back of the couch. The pressure is maddening without friction to go with it, and Xingchen sobs out his pleasure, trembling and pushing back on him.

When he cums it's a punch to the gut, fingers white-knuckled against the couch cushions and a cry ripping out of his throat. His heart feels like it's hammering so hard that all he can hear for a few moments is the whoosh-whoosh of his heartbeat. But he realizes quickly that Song Lan has felt it. He drapes himself over Xingchen's back, fucking him hard and fast, racing towards the end. It must crash into him too, because he grunts and transforms into a heavy, shuddering weight, pressing him into the couch, his cock twitching inside.

Time still doesn't really exist. They might stay draped over that couch for hours, for all Xingchen can tell. His ass is sore, he can barely breathe, he's going to have bruises where the couch is digging into his midsection, and he feels like he hasn't been this happy in months. It's not just the sex – though, to be fair, the sex is amazing and a big part of it. It's what comes with the sex. He feels connected to Song Lan like this, special, needed. And then, taken care of, because eventually Song Lan straightens up and helps him up, drops down to help him work off his shoes and slacks so they can walk back to the bedroom. His arm supports Xingchen around the waist because he's for surewalking with a limp right now. He helps him get his shirt off and brushes his hair back over his shoulder and kisses his cheek, so sweet.

Xiao Xingchen makes to go to the bathroom. He still smells like smoke and wine and sex, and Song Lan won't want that in their bed. But before he can pull away, Song Lan pulls him back in close, nuzzles his hair and kisses him again in a way that makes his heart feel soft and warm, honey in his chest. He lets Song Lan lead him to bed, even though he has the distinct sensation of cum slowly starting to leak out of his body.

“Here, keep it in,” Song Lan rumbles low, curling up behind him and pressing his fingers into Xingchen, pressing it back inside. Xingchen sucks in a breath, his body feeling oversensitive and raw but good. It's not too much. Then there are some sounds behind him, and then he feels Song Lan's cock press into him again. That is almost too much, and he makes a small sound, not sure if he could handle a second round.

But it's not to fuck him. Song Lan settles, their bodies pressed close, fitting perfectly. Song Lan's nose presses into his shoulder, and he kisses there a few times. Without too much preamble, they fall asleep.

~

The next morning, of course, they are stuck together. It's a little disgusting, but there isn't a thing that Xiao Xingchen would have changed about the night before. He stirs a little, then makes a sound of complaint, his body protesting the movement from the waist down. Song Lan wakes up next, and Xingchen can practically hear his grimace when he remembers the position they were stuck in.

He's as careful as he can manage when he pulls away from Xingchen's body, pressing a gentle hand to his arm to indicate he should stay still. There are some bathroom sounds, water running, and then Song Lan returns with a warm, wet washcloth to gently wipe him clean. Xingchen has to bite his knuckle; his ass feels raw, sore and swollen. He can feel precisely how hard they went. He still doesn't regret a moment.

Song Lan treats him soft and sweet that morning, brings him breakfast in bed and combs his hair. They're both quiet, Xingchen because he's hesitant to say anything that will break the spell, and Song Lan because he seems exhausted from socializing so much the day before. Sometimes it's harder than others. Then to recuperate, he's quieter than usual, minimizing his interactions, sometimes even with Xingchen himself. Xingchen doesn't take it personally, and usually uses the time to indulge his own inner introvert and work on his own projects.

Nothing wrong with that, except that they continue to not talk about it. Xingchen can't make the shape of his desire into words, the way Song Lan's touch lights him up, the way he craves the desperate way they came together after the launch party. Song Lan's touches feel apologetic, half guilty, wary of pushing too far, like he's afraid of his own attraction. They haven't had to navigate anything like this before, where before they were coasting on instinct and now the waters feel choppy.

Xiao Xingchen finds it a welcome distraction to turn to the trial. There's no shortage of material – Xue Yang continues to be the media's darling or scapegoat by turns, sometimes both in the same article. He figures out how to find the best news channel to listen to what he can, certain amounts of testimony from witnesses and arguments from lawyers. He thinks its a small blessing that he himself was such a useless witness when it came to the stabbing incident, so he hasn't been called to court. In any case, that's how he first hears Xue Yang's voice, surprisingly young, always irreverent and teasing, even when he's supposed to be taking the court show seriously.

And it really does seem like a show. The prosecution is fighting as best they can, but the defense is barely working at all, their questions lazy and confident at the same time. The judge doesn't seem in any kind of hurry to help the prosecution when the defense steps out of line. Everything is played to the media like a huge circus, and everyone is marching towards a foregone conclusion.

Then, as quickly as it started, it's over. The media coverage disappears overnight. It's not old enough to be old news, but that's how it's treated. Xiao Xingchen has to search and search to find anything about the conclusion, and all he can find is basically a footnote stating that a settlement was reached, which sounds frankly preposterous. The charges against Xue Yang included murder! He hadn't thought it was possible that a settlement could be found against a potential murderer, especially when the prosecution had brought witnesses and evidence galore. It feels profoundly unfair, a sincere lack of justice, and he wonders how natural-born Americans feel about their supposed “justice system.”

His dissatisfaction with the finale of the trial makes it hard to put it all behind him. He struggles with sleeping and focusing on his projects and his studies, he's snappish and short-tempered and withdrawn from Song Lan. Even if Song Lan asked what is troubling him, he has no confidence that he could articulate it to any understandable degree. So Song Lan can't help, and Xiao Xingchen doesn't know how to help himself.

It's on a random day when Xingchen hears a knock on the door. That's unusual – Song Lan left for work, but he would have texted if he forgot his keys, and Xingchen doesn't think they're expecting any deliveries. He debates just leaving it, pretending he's not home, but the knock comes again, more insistent.

Heaving a big sigh, he picks himself up from where he had been lounging, attempting to read and feel somewhat productive but mostly just feeling listless. It crosses his mind that Song Lan might have gotten it in his head to do some kind of gesture, getting him flowers or something – not that flowers aren't thoughtful, but he thinks the gesture is now lost on him since he can't see them. He doesn't think he brushed his hair this morning, but this delivery man will just have to tolerate him looking a little messy. He finds the door and opens it, trying to put a pleasant expression on his face.

“Hello, can I help you?” he asks, and waits for a response.

None comes. He waits a few moments, then frowns. Was something dropped off? He considers bending to check for a box, but there's a feeling rising, a prickling feeling on the back of his neck that tells him he's being watched. But if there's someone there, why aren't they speaking? Why aren't they telling him why they're there? Belatedly, he realizes this might be some kind of burglar who could take advantage of him. He doesn't have a weapon, but there's an umbrella in the stand next to the door and knives in the kitchen, and though it's been years he still has his martial arts training. How much that will help, he doesn't know, he hasn't even attempted to fight anyone even to spar since he lost his sight, and he doesn't think running through the exercises and stretches in the morning will really help if someone actually attacks him.

Whoever is at the door still hasn't spoken, and it's making his nerves go haywire, his heart pounding even though he hasn't even moved. Maybe he's being stupid and getting freaked out over nothing. Maybe there's no one even there, and there's no reason for his skin to feel nervous cold/hot. “Hello?” he says again, this time significantly less confident, his voice giving out halfway through.

There's another few moments of silence, then a wild cackle, not an attractive laugh at all. It feels familiar, somehow, though it's not until Xue Yang speaks that Xiao Xingchen recognizes him.

“Wow. I guess you're real, huh?”