Chapter Text
Sometimes – Sometimes
Wei Wuxian will wake in the middle of the night to Lan Zhan gripping his arm so tight that it hurts.
Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything – doesn’t make any sound at all, really – he just lies there staring at Wei Wuxian; his eyes filled with something raw and deep and pained.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t say anything either. Doesn’t really know what he could say – the guilt of being responsible for Lan Zhan’s pain keeps his mouth shut, makes his heart hang heavy in his chest. He knows Lan Zhan is trapped somewhere, somewhere in the space between when Wei Wuxian fell at Nightless City and when he woke up in Mo Xuanyu’s room.
What could he say?
What words could he string together to make up for the hurt of 16 lonely years?
So he doesn’t say anything. He just pulls his arm from Lan Zhan’s iron grip, and drags Lan Zhan into his chest, and Lan Zhan lets himself be dragged, hides his face in Wei Wuxian’s chest and just breathes these horrible shuddering breaths.
Lan Zhan wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian and grabs the back of his night shirt so tightly that it threatens to slip off of Wei Wuxian’s shoulders.
Wei Wuxian’s arm hurts from where Lan Zhan had held on too tightly and his hair is stuck between him and the bed and Lan Zhan, pulling at his scalp painfully, but…
Wei Wuxian doesn’t mind.
He moves his hand down Lan Zhan’s back in long, soothing strokes. Presses kisses to Lan Zhan’s temple. Holds him to remind him that he’s real and there and alive.
In the morning, Lan Zhan will still wake before him and carefully untangle himself from Wei Wuxian’s embrace. Get ready alone in the cold quiet dawn, and press a firm kiss on Wei Wuxian’s forehead before leaving the Jingshi.
The sun will be high in the sky by the time Wei Wuxian wakes and Cloud Recess will be loud with the sound of birds chirping and disciples racing to and fro; going to lessons, sparring with each other, reciting rules.
The only evidence of Lan Zhan’s pain will be the way Wei Wuxian’s arm aches, the soreness of his scalp.
Wei Wuxian will wake and Lan Zhan will be waiting, sat in the middle of the Jingshi with a table of still-warm food.
“Lan Zhan!” he’ll call out, stretching sleepily. “I’m here, Lan Zhan.” And Lan Zhan will walk over to him, press kisses to his eyelids, his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin, and finally, his lips.
“Yes,” Lan Zhan will say quietly, eyes warm and loving and relieved. “Wei Ying is here.”