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Long and wild black hair whips around a corner, out of Lan Wangji’s line of sight as he hustles to catch up and follow it wherever it goes. He remembers that mane like high school was only yesterday, and an out-of-control ponytail smacked him in the face whenever his lab partner got distracted by something else in the room. He recalls being shocked when Wei Wuxian had first begun to show up in all the honor track courses alongside him, the free-spirited artist never seeming like one to be holed up in libraries with books and toiling for hours on research. Lan Wangji had been correct about those assumptions, and yet the other boy had remained near the top of the class, always solidly high in the academic rankings.
It had flustered and irritated Lan Wangji more than it should have, since Wei Wuxian’s standing did not seem to have any bearing on his own - the art student’s lack of concern for the proper way to be a peak student unsettled the youthful scholar. Despite that, over the course of their final school year, he had grown to appreciate the unique outlook on schooling that Wei Wuxian cultivated - he had efficiently pulled his weight in all his involvements, and introduced new ways of approaching problems, establishing a creative study system for small groups that Lan Wangji recommends to his own students now when they struggle.
With a grimace and a clench of his gut, Lan Wangji thinks about the very last time he had seen this same hair, matted with blood and splayed on the road, limp and still after fearlessly pushing a little girl towards the safety of the sidewalk. Lan Wangji had laid unmoving on his back, staring at the other boy, longing to help him beyond the nearly useless nudge he had managed, except it had proven impossible to help someone else when his own limbs failed to respond to simple brain commands. Lan Wangji could not feel his legs, but he had been more than aware of the pounding of his heart as he did not know the status of Wei Wuxian.
As he found out later during his recovery from the first spinal surgery, his classmate was alive and going to be relatively fine, save moderate bruising and long-term memory issues. That knowledge had dulled the lingering pain in his back, the ache of physical therapy, the repetitive boredom of relearning how to walk, and the itch of the scarring on his skin. He has never minded the appearance of the scars, content in his actions regarding Wei Wuxian’s life, although the sporadic tightness in them forces him to relive the memories of that accident more often than he would prefer - over thirteen years feeling like only moments ago based on the clarity within his mind.
Lan Wangji rounds the corner and watches as Wei Wuxian slips inside the door of a dimly lit storefront. Lan Wangji hurries and enters through the same door shortly after, briefly noting the dark red neon sign flashing The Lotus Patriarch on the door. He stops as soon as he crosses the threshold, breath knocked out of him at what he sees - an irritated looking man in a tank top, who looks vaguely familiar, glowers at him from behind a counter, while Wei Wuxian has already taken his shirt off and stands in the middle of the space, showing the other man something on his chest.
Lan Wangji is too caught up in staring at his former classmate to observe much else. Besides the brilliant sun tattoo on one side of his chest, and a barely legible scrawl of black script on his forearm, his back is fully decorated with an abundance of intricately drawn lotus flowers in pink, white, and purple floating on a river so realistic it appears to be in motion. He wrenches his gaze away from Wei Wuxian’s back to stare instead at the full sleeves that cover the other man, also lotus blooms and water, but with an elaborate portrait of a young woman standing out amongst the stunning floral display. As Wei Wuxian catches him ogling, he shifts his body so Lan Wangji can see the same woman’s image etched over his heart.
“Seen enough yet?” The unknown man scowls as he addresses him, and Lan Wangji remembers he needs to speak. “Or are you actually here for something relevant, like body art?”
Lan Wangji takes a deep breath before responding - he does not fully comprehend why he is here beyond a magnetic pull towards Wei Wuxian. “I am interested in a tattoo.” The words escape his mouth before he realizes he says them, but the sparkle in Wei Wuxian’s eyes makes them worth it.
“Really?” Wei Wuxian blurts out, and the other man pinches his nose and sighs. “You don’t seem like the type! Does he, Jiang Cheng?”
“Wei Wuxian! Why would you try and turn a customer away? And how can you tell he’s not a tattoo type, just because he didn’t ride up on a motorcycle or doesn’t have a hundred piercings?” Jiang Cheng barks back, shaking his head in frustration, before smirking over at Lan Wangji. “A starched, angelic, white button-down shirt doesn’t make someone incapable of wanting a tattoo.”
“Huh, yeah I guess, but he sure doesn’t look like our typical clientele.” Wei Wuxian shifts his focus back towards Lan Wangji, shrugging and beaming at him, which causes his heart to stutter, just once, but enough to grab his attention, his scars itching the longer that radiant smile is directed towards him. “So. What do you want and where do you want it?”
“I do not know yet.” As he voices this thought, he already ponders covering his back with something as vibrant and alive as the scene permanently inked onto Wei Wuxian’s back.
“Tch,” scoffs Jiang Cheng. “I may be your younger brother, and this may be our store, but I can still read people better than you. And this guy does not want ink. So what are you here for?”
Wei Wuxian bounces over to him, shirt draped over one arm, the other recklessly thrown around Lan Wangji. “Leave him alone, Jiang Cheng. He’s allowed to think about a decision like this for longer than you harassing him in the lobby!” He is tugged down the hallway by Wei Wuxian, and they dart past a curtain into a bright room, one entire wall a mirror, and the rest of the vertical space haphazardly occupied with drawings and sketches. There is what appears to be a chair similar to one found in a dental office, and a counter with a tattoo gun and bottles upon bottles of ink in a variety of rainbow colors.
“Here, sit.” Wei Wuxian motions towards a normal chair off to the side, as he perches on a stool and wheels over to where Lan Wangji awkwardly hovers. He pats the cushion and smiles up at him. “Come on, I’m not going to start randomly tattooing you or anything, it’s just a chair.”
“Mm,” murmurs Lan Wangji, as he sits down, eyes drawn back to the effervescent man fidgeting before him.
Wei Wuxian squints at him as he rolls back over towards the counter. He grabs a bottle of smokey blue before returning. “If you do ever choose anything, and you don’t want black, you should use this color. It would look amazing on your skin.”
“I would want water like yours,” states Lan Wangi without thinking, too busy picturing the tattoos covering the smooth, curved expanse of Wei Wuxian’s back.
“Eh?” The artist cranes his neck in an attempt to see the back of his own body, spinning on his stool to get a better angle in the wall mirror. “Jiang Cheng did all this. It’s from our property where we grew up so he knows it as well as I do. I did his sleeves though, so I would hope you actually want water like his instead of mine. You do want me to tattoo you, right? Oh! Maybe you do want Jiang Cheng after all, he does incredible work. If you like my back, you should probably have him help you with your design.”
“Wei Ying.” The name leaves his lips like a promise, and dark grey eyes widen in surprise, though said man leans in towards him.
“You know me?” Wei Wuxian tilts his head in curiosity, mouth open in surprise. Lan Wangji watches his lips form a small circle, before teeth clamp down on the full bottom lip in worry. “But I don’t know you. Won’t you tell me your name so we can know each other? You’ll have to put it on all the paperwork anyway, plus I have to even check your official identification to verify your age, so you might as well tell me instead of making me wait for all that.”
“Lan Wangji.” He continues as he anticipates the next question out of Wei Wuxian’s active mouth. “Your chemistry lab partner.”
“Chemistry...lab partner? From...high school?!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, so loudly it draws his brother’s attention from the front, who strides in and crosses his colorful arms tightly against his chest as he frowns at Lan Wangji. “Wait! Lan Zhan! I remember you! I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you, hahaha, although my memory isn’t great.”
“Wei Wuxian, enough,” chides Jiang Cheng, though his eyes remain pinned on Lan Wangji. “I remember you. My brother talked about you all the time, how you would redo his portion of lab reports if they didn’t meet your standards, and how you called him out on forgetting his homework to Teacher Qiren. And then you fall off the face of the earth until now?”
As he listens to the tepid scolding, Lan Wangji can clearly see the stark hospital hallway in the Pediatric ward, his older brother wheeling him towards Wei Wuxian’s room. A much younger Jiang Cheng had stormed into the hallway in tears, his parents and older sister Jiang Yanli trailing after him, offering comfort and soft, brushed off words. He hadn’t wanted to intrude on family though, so he asked Lan Xichen to take him back to his room. Anytime he had requested his brother assist him in a short visit to Wei Wuxian, the Jiang clan was visiting their son and brother, up until the day Wei Wuxian was discharged. Lan Wangji had never seen him again, though not for lack of trying, high school graduation occurring before Lan Wangji was rehabilitated enough to resume attending school, instead fulfilling his coursework requirements from a bed.
“I did not know how to find you,” Lan Wangji explains, words directed at Wei Wuxian instead of his hostile, defensive brother, who must assume Lan Wangji began avoiding the other boy due to the accident. No one save Lan Xichen is aware that Lan Wangji has devotedly sought Wei Wuxian since that traumatic day.
Wei Wuxian pats his hand and grins. “Ah, we moved after the accident and graduation. Jiang Cheng had to do his final year in a new place! He was so mad about it, but that’s why we opened this store back here! Ahh, but no worries, no worries, Lan Zhan. Jiang Cheng, at ease brother. It’s fine, Lan Zhan is here now and that’s all that matters.”
“Tch. Don’t forget his paperwork if he decides on actually getting something.” Jiang Cheng’s voice fades as he stomps out, leaving them alone again in Wei Wuxian’s world.
Wei Wuxian swivels back around, pinning Lan Wangji in place with his gaze. “So. Let’s do this.”
Despite Wei Wuxian’s contagious enthusiasm, Lan Wangji had not left that day with any kind of body art, nor has he any day since upon departing The Lotus Patriarch. Ideas have been slowly forming in his mind, though the only thing for certain is that Wei Wuxian will be the one tattooing him, leaving an indelible mark on his skin, since he has been present underneath it already for far too long, memories of him thrumming through Lan Wangji’s veins like blood.
Lan Wangji heads to the tattoo parlor after bidding farewell to his last student, locking up his classroom earlier than his fellow teachers, although many have noticed that he is now one of the first to leave the school grounds, as opposed to one of the last. He dutifully carries a homemade dinner for Wei Wuxian, one that the artist always waves off dismissively as he works, yet nibbles on throughout each evening when moments of calm present themselves.
It is during one such moment, in an hour far past Lan Wangji’s former early bedtime, that Wei Wuxian demands answers. He wipes down the customer chair with antiseptic as he speaks. “Lan Zhan, that is the third person you’ve watched me ink tonight and you haven’t said a word this entire time. Most people don’t mind you here watching, actually believing me when I say you’re my apprentice and you need to watch the process to learn it better, but you loom over there by the wall all silent and stoic, doing nothing but grading papers and staring at me. I think you’re beginning to intimidate people.” He tosses the wipe into the trash and resorts the small bottles of ink into their proper spots on the shelf.
Almost two entire seasons have come and gone since Lan Wangji has rediscovered his lost classmate, the snow finally transitioning into shallow puddles under the insistent warmth of the sun, soft colors emerging again after their hibernation, lush petals and verdant greenery hinting at the looming scorch of summer. Cold winter nights long ago melted into comfortable spring evenings, most of them spent watching the artist at work, time spent in between clients discussing anything and everything from the past or the present.
Lan Wangji learns of a person he had never truly known existed in a boy with a carefree attitude and easy smiles - he sees the selfless generosity, devotion to his brother, and commitment to his craft bleed out of Wei Wuxian the more time they spend together. He learns that the woman adorning both brothers’ skin is their departed and beloved sister, as well as finally deciphering the script on his arm to be the birth coordinates of his nephew, currently shared and raised by both he and Jiang Cheng, as well as other extended family when the two men are busy. Lan Wangji even witnesses the man’s debilitating fear of dogs, much to the other’s chagrin, when a sight-impaired customer requests him specifically and is accompanied by her canine companion. He had hollered for Jiang Cheng and cowered behind his brother until Lan Wangji offered to be her eyes for the session so she could receive her desired art and Wei Wuxian could work in peace.
Lan Wangji is short on sleep, yet fueled by a budding relationship that is long overdue. In their adolescence, he had been intrigued, fascinated by the dichotomy and passion of Wei Wuxian - now he is hopelessly besotted.
“Mm.” Lan Wangji hums as he rises and glides over to Wei Wuxian, grasping his wrist gently. It is warm and pulsing with vibrant energy that seizes Lan Wangji’s breath in his throat. “Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian freezes and glances up at him, eyes wide, surprised but seeming completely at ease. “Finally chosen what it is you want?”
You, Lan Wangji longs to reply, except he doesn’t want to scare Wei Wuxian away with his surety. “I have decided.”
“Oh good!” Wei Wuxian claps his hands together in delight, practically bouncing on his stool. His fizzing enthusiasm fills the space and Lan Wangji basks in the atmosphere, sensing it enter him and wrap snugly around his core like a blanket. He tracks every expression that flits over Wei Wuxian’s face as he gazes back at Lan Wangji expectantly. “It’s nice that you filled out the paperwork so long ago, back when I thought you might actually get a tattoo while I was still young. Hahaha, so tell me, Lan Zhan, I’m dying to know what you’ve picked!”
Lan Wangji’s brows pull together, he feels the tightening between his eyes as well as the clenching of his hands. “Do not joke about dying.”
Wei Wuxian leans forward, clasping Lan Wangji’s hands between his own, his cool and capable fingers soothing over distraught knuckles, almost absent-mindedly, as grey eyes bore into him. “Lan Zhan. It’s just a saying, I’m not dying. Why would that bother you so much anyway? It’s not like-”
“Not like what?” Lan Wangji interrupts, which he rarely does, but he is uninterested in Wei Wuxian’s dismissal of his own worth. “I have watched you almost die and I do not wish to witness it again.” The words tumble out before he can stuff them back down into the recesses of his mind, a place he revisits too often in his nightmares and never wants to drag out into the open, especially in front of Wei Wuxian.
“What? What does that mean? How do you…” Wei Wuxian trails off, desperately searching Lan Wangji’s face for answers.
Lan Wangji twists his hands and weaves their fingers together, gripping to express the weight of his words that he is sure will come out wrong and incomplete, holding firmly on to someone he had tried to save and then ended up losing anyway. “I was there the day of the accident. I saw you get hit.”
Wei Wuxian waves his concern off, a thin smile stretching his lips too wide. “Oh it barely clipped me, I was fine, I am fine. I’m not going anywhere, Lan Zhan! You can’t get rid of me that easily. I heard there was someone else who took the brunt of the car’s impact but I never found out who it was. Or maybe I’ve been told and I just can’t seem to remember, hahaha.”
It’s a brittle laugh and Lan Wangji loathes its insincerity, yearning to dig back in to the authentic figure who hides underneath this sudden facade. He releases Wei Wuxian’s hands and stands up, slowly beginning to undo the buttons on his dress shirt. He peels it off and reaches to the hem of his undershirt, pulling it up and over his head in one swift motion, noticing that Wei Wuxian has hardly blinked during his actions, mesmerized at his every move. Sighing with an air of resignation, Lan Wangji turns and reveals his back.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian gasps and clutches for one of Lan Wangji’s hands as he rises to stand behind him, his other hand pressing tenderly against the raised skin newly exposed to him. He feels heated breath on his bare shoulders. “What is all this? What am I looking at, Lan Zhan? How did you get all these scars?”
“Wei Ying.” Soft fingers trace over the thick, shiny surgical lines that frame his back, the artwork nothing more than further scores of incision and mottled, damaged tissue from impact with unforgiving asphalt.
“Your body is gorgeous, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian states sincerely, and Lan Wangji is certain that he isn’t simply reassuring his ego, he understands that much, except he can’t stop the praise from burrowing deeply into his soul anyway. He’s not vain, but he gulps down any offering from Wei Wuxian as though it’s the finest delicacy. “Please tell me about these and why you’re here with me every day. I may be horrible at remembering things from long ago, but this is new, and I promise to memorize every single thing you tell me. I’ve already started! I know you have an older brother you idolize and you were both raised by your uncle. I know you teach fifth grade, and specialize in music for all the grades. You only drink green tea and hate how much coffee I consume, and you’re an early bird but for some reason stay up late to hang out with me every night. You’re considerate and generous and intelligent and so kind and talented. When you bring your zither to play me music, I melt into goo. I’m surprised Jiang Cheng doesn’t have to wipe me off the floor with a mop! Would you like me even as goo, Lan Zhan?”
Lan Wangji allows the corners of his mouth to rise at the image, content to let Wei Wuxian fill the silence with his words and reassurances. “Mm.”
Warm, steady hands continue their earnest exploration across the expanse of Lan Wangji’s exposed back, Wei Wuxian latching back onto the discarded topic. “Please tell me.”
Lan Wangji doesn’t mind filling in the gaps within Wei Wuxian’s mind, since he should have been able to completely clear him from harm’s way in the first place. He owes him this much, although he craves no praise from this man. “These scars are from the same ground that stole your memories.”
“I-it was you?” Wei Wuxian’s hands still on his back and burn their imprint into him, reawakening swaths of skin that have struggled to feel full sensation since the operations. He strokes along every scar as Lan Wangji describes the scene as he saw it, and his resulting injuries, surgeries, and rehabilitation. His words sound clumsy and insufficient to his own ears, but when Wei Wuxian presses soft lips against the base of his neck, he regrets nothing. He feels his ears heat up and chokes out a breath while dipping his head, overwhelmed by everything he’s feeling, emotions a maelstrom within his core.
Wei Wuxian continues, wrapping his arms tightly around Lan Wangji’s broad chest, nestling his head onto his shoulder and not giving him even a moment to organize the chaos in his mind or his heart. “Lan Zhan! I’ve wanted to thank you ever since I woke up that day, and apologize for putting you in harm’s way. I never meant to hurt anybody, and I’m sure it was my fault, not paying attention or something. My step-mother always yelled at me over being easily distracted and that it was going to cause trouble some day, but I never would have wanted to hurt you or anyone else. Lan Zhan, I’m so-”
Lan Wangji maneuvers himself within the embrace to face Wei Wuxian, gripping his upper arms firmly. “Stop. You rescued a child, you did not hurt me. Do not thank me, do not apologize. I am glad I did it and you owe me neither gratitude nor repentance.”
“I want to do something, I need to do something for you. Anything! Lan Zhan, from everything I’ve ever been told, you saved my life. I can’t know that and sit here like that isn’t worth something! You’re worth everything. Let me show you!” Wei Wuxian clings impossibly tighter, eyes brimming with a dazzling fervor that makes Lan Wangji’s heart pound in a furious rhythm, from his temples all the way to the tips of his fingers and the soles of his feet.
Lan Wangji lifts his hand to tuck a loose strand of untamed hair behind one of Wei Wuxian’s ears. “Tattoo me, Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian laughs, unrestrained and like the joyous ringing of bells in exultation - Lan Wangji yearns to hear this merry sound for the rest of his days. “I was going to do that anyway, Lan Zhan! You just need to tell me what you want.”
“You,” murmurs Lan Wangji before he can hesitate a moment longer.
Beaming, but fondly shaking his head, Wei Wuxian snorts. “Well then let’s get this tattoo taken care of so you can have me. But first, and I’m begging you here Lan Zhan, you have to tell me what design you want and where you want it. Show me a picture or describe it or even pick something I’ve already done off the wall, anything! I can’t stand another second of not knowing what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“My whole back. I would like my scars covered up.” At Wei Wuxian’s open mouth, sensing an argument on the tip of his tongue about how unnecessary that it, Lan Wangji heads him off. “Not to hide them, but to include them in art created by you.”
Mouth still agape, now in apparent shock, Wei Wuxian goggles at him. “Created by me? No one ever asks for that. Usually it’s pictures or a writing sample or something and I scan it and print it so I can transfer it right onto the person’s skin. Lan Zhan, are you sure?”
Nodding, Lan Wangji trails the back of his fingers lightly over a smooth, flushed cheek, hearing the stutter of the other man’s breath at the touch. “I’m confident you will do a wonderful job.”
“I did Jiang Cheng’s sleeves free hand and he designed my back. We do it, it’s just not often requested. Sometimes I forget that I’m an artist.” Wei Wuxian smiles shyly up at him, and Lan Wangji is somehow stunned yet again by how pretty he is, heart bared and open. “Do you have instructions at all?”
“Water. And something that reminds me of you whenever I think about it.” Lan Wangji trusts in Wei Wuxian and his vision completely.
“How about if I sketch something out and then tomorrow you can see if you like it?”
“No. I don’t need to see it. Tomorrow you can simply tattoo it on me.”
“Lan Zhan!”
“Wei Ying.”
With a mildly frustrated huff, Wei Wuxian pulls away from Lan Wangji. “That’s a lot of faith in me for something permanently on your body, Lan Zhan! What if you hate it?”
“I will not,” assures Lan Wangji, walking over to the door and slipping his arms back through his discarded shirt sleeves. “It is late, I will be back tomorrow after school.”
Wei Wuxian hurries over to the door and grabs his arm, yanking him to a stop. He lunges forward and kisses Lan Wangji’s cheek, before stepping back, panting for breath and chirping a farewell. “Okay then! Tomorrow, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Wangji stumbles out of the The Lotus Patriarch under the scrutinizing eye of Jiang Cheng, idly caressing his cheek, still feeling the phantom sensation of Wei Wuxian’s lips against his skin.
Lan Wangji lays flat on his stomach upon the fully reclined chair, head turned to the side in order to watch Wei Wuxian bustle around his workspace, enjoying the background din of chaotic flute music piped through the speakers. He sees Wei Wuxian’s head snap over to the doorway as his brother clears his throat.
“So,” Jiang Cheng utters, nose wrinkling at the racket of the incessant wind instrument. “This is why you came in early and aren’t accepting any customers today? Tch, after months this one has finally decided to pull the trigger, eh?”
“Jiang Cheng, shut up and come over here. Look at this! Tell me what you think?” Wei Wuxian holds out a large sheet of nearly translucent paper, shielding it from Lan Wangji’s view with his body. “So here’s his back, and I know tattooing on scar tissue is tricky, but look at this design! I think it’ll work with them instead of fighting against them.”
“Mhmm,” agrees Jiang Cheng quietly, pausing for consideration. “I think how you’ve drawn it will make these down here look like waves in motion, and these here like the actual texture of bark and branches. Hmph. This will take you all day though, so you should probably get started before you shove extra clients at me tomorrow too.”
As his brother stalks out of the room, Wei Wuxian sighs contentedly. “I think you’ll like this, Lan Zhan. Are you ready to get started? Jiang Cheng is right, this will take awhile. If you need to stop and take a break, let me know and we’ll rest, okay? Covering your entire back might be more than you can handle in one session.”
“Mm.” Lan Wangji closes his eyes and settles in.
Wei Wuxian smooths his hands over Lan Wangji’s back slowly, reverently, before donning a clean pair of gloves, and then taking a wipe to clean every bit of exposed skin. The stool creaks as he shifts, waiting for the alcohol to dry, though the slight breeze indicates that he is impatient enough to want to speed the process along a little. Wei Wuxian coats his back liberally in a solution that smells more like soap than he expects. Moisture dribbles down his sides, pooling along his body and the surface of the chair. Lan Wangji memorizes every sensation of the process, although he is partial to the feel of Wei Wuxian’s hands on his skin. The slight crinkling of paper alerts Lan Wangji to the next step, as the transfer sheet is laid against him, fingers running along the entirety of the design, pressing firmly and thoroughly along his spine, his lower back, sliding all the way up to his shoulder blades.
“Hold still,” murmurs Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji cracks open an eye to watch the man work. His brows are furrowed in concentration, and the tip of his tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth as he maneuvers deftly around the chair. Lan Wangji has to forcefully stop himself from taking the other man into his arms and kissing him right then and there. He shuts his eyes again, the captivating image of this artist at work seared into his eyelids.
The paper is gradually peeled off, and Wei Wuxian lets out a hoot and shakes Lan Wangji’s arm. “Lan Zhan, get up! Come over to the mirror! You should see the design before I tattoo it onto you. I have to know what you think before it’s there forever.”
Lan Wangji shakes his head, resolutely keeping his eyes squeezed shut. “No need. I trust Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian smacks his shoulder and chides him. “Seriously, Lan Zhan. That’s a lot of pressure!”
“You are talented. Your brother provided a second opinion. I trust you.” There is nothing more than Lan Wangji needs to know, he is confident in this decision, though he is desperate to see what Wei Wuxian’s genius has created.
“Fine.” Wei Wuxian pouts, but rallies in his own unique style as he daubs at the excess soap solution along Lan Wangji’s sides and waits for the transfer to dry. “You owe me dinner after all this stress! Hopefully my hands don’t shake too much from nerves while I’m holding the gun. Lan Zhan, what if my hands shake and your design gets all crazy? Will you take responsibility for an ugly tattoo, explaining to anyone who asks that you are the one who drove me to this madness? Come to The Lotus Patriarch, where the artist is filled with resentment after one tattoo gone wrong!”
Lan Wangji reaches out to grasp Wei Wuxian’s forearm and silence his antics. “Ridiculous.”
Chuckling under his breath, Wei Wuxian putters around, snapping on a new pair of gloves, filling numerous tiny pots with a variety of ink colors, and inserting a clean needle into the gun. He turns on the motor and dips the needle into one of the ink pots, then sets it against Lan Wangji’s upper back.
The next several hours are spent enduring the mild agony of a motorized needle repeatedly piercing his skin, digging in, moving back and forth, breaking for color changes and Wei Wuxian to shake out his hands. Jiang Cheng pops in periodically to check on the progress, glaring at Lan Wangji when he sees there has been no prolonged rest for his brother, who waves off his concerns.
“Seriously, Jiang Cheng, I can handle this! If Lan Zhan wants to keep going, then I’m going to keep going.” Wei Wuxian grins at the scowling man and whirs the motor back to life, purposefully but gently pushing the gun back into Lan Wangji’s skin. He is grateful to the half-numb nerves in his back, or this would not be able to be completed today, although hurting Wei Wuxian is out of the question.
Lan Wangji lifts his head, cautious in keeping himself as motionless as possible. He catches Wei Wuxian’s eye as he glances at him in concern. “Everything all right, Lan Zhan? You’ve hardly made any kind of fuss, you’ve got the self-control of a god. Unless you’re actually carved out of jade instead of muscle and bone like the rest of us mere mortals. Are you a statue or a god, Lan Zhan?”
“Shameless,” mutters Lan Wangji, though there is no heat in his response, merely a sense of playfulness that no one except this man seems able to lure out of him. Casual chatter in Wei Wuxian’s melodic tenor, interspersed with flute music and the low humming of the tattoo gun, have put him in a near-trance despite the mild discomfort of the whole procedure.
Wei Wuxian laughs in response, bending back down to resume inking, before popping his head up, forehead creased in worry. “Do you need a break?”
Lan Wangji shakes his head. “Only if Wei Ying does.”
Wei Wuxian rolls the stool over towards his head, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “I’d rather get this done so we can plan the date you promised me! You might have to feed me too, since my hands will be sore and cramped after holding the gun for so long. Will you feed me, Lan Zhan?”
“Mm,” agrees Lan Wangji because it’s the truth. He considers what he would not do for Wei Wuxian. Somehow over the last several months, this man has dug out a spot for himself right in the middle of Lan Wangji’s heart, deeper than he ever had been during his absence, nestling in, weaving himself seamlessly into the fabric of Lan Wangji’s being. He wonders if his heartbeat even sounds as it did before, or if it pulses with the name Wei Ying instead.
“Yeah? Lan Zhan, you never cease to amaze me! You seemed so cold in high school, I thought you hated me, hahaha. But now I learn you are a giant marshmallow teddy bear under that face. Are you a marshmallow, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian claps a hand on his shoulder as he softly giggles, still so close to his ear that Lan Wangji feels the laughter as much as he hears it, sultry puffs of breath that send a shiver down his spine.
“Does Wei Ying like marshmallows?” Lan Wangji is surprised to hear the rasp in his voice, his ears suddenly flaming with heat. Wei Wuxian extends a finger to lightly poke at an earlobe.
“Ahh, what’s this? Are you blushing, Lan Zhan? Too cute! I don’t have much left to do, just the bloom of the tree. I wish these magnolia blossoms were bright pink so I could use ink as colorful as your ears! But no matter, I think the white flowers are perfect for you.” Wei Wuxian scoots back down on his stool, and picks up his tattoo gun, turning it on and resuming where he left off. Lan Wangji attempts to settle his nerves as the experience approaches its end, but the racing of his heart makes that a nearly impossible feat.
Eventually, Wei Wuxian powers down the gun and rolls away from Lan Wangji, letting out a grunt and stretching his arms above his head. Lan Wangji gazes at the strip of exposed skin on his abdomen, before guilt slams into him and he snaps his eyes up to Wei Wuxian’s teasing face. “Eh eh, like what you see, Lan Zhan? It’s a decent body, it’s okay if you look.”
“Mm.” Lan Wangji attempts to not embarrass himself further and merely hums his assent. It is a lovely body indeed, however, he’s much more intrigued by the attractive soul housed within it. Wei Wuxian is nothing short of beautiful, every facet of him captivating, and Lan Wangji craves more.
Wei Wuxian shuts off the music and comes back over to him, bearing cling film, medical tape, and a tub of ointment. Lan Wangji would be surprised at this array of equipment, except he has witnessed enough tattoo aftercare by now to comprehend the steps like an expert. “I am legally bound to walk you through everything, Lan Zhan, even though I know you’re aware of the procedure. Before I lube you up and wrap you like cheap leftovers, do you want to see your tattoo? I’m so excited to see your reaction and it’s best to look now before it gets all bloody! You never see that part because clients leave before it starts, but it’ll be a temporary mess by the time we’re done eating our very late, very promised dinner.”
Lan Wangji nods and rises off the chair, muscles stiff after laying in one position for so long. He shuffles to the mirror, allowing Wei Wuxian to grab him by the shoulders and guide him around so his back faces the enormous wall mirror. He peers down into sparkling grey eyes, positively twinkling with anticipation. Lan Wangji is more enchanted by this man than whatever colorful images adorn his back, but Wei Wuxian needs to know how exquisite his art is, and Lan Wangji will express that to him. Before craning his neck to view the undoubtedly spectacular display that waits behind him, Lan Wangji tips his head down slightly, brushing his lips against Wei Wuxian’s forehead.
“Lan Zhan,” gasps Wei Wuxian, moving his talented hands from Lan Wangji’s shoulders to his cheeks, bringing his head down while surging upwards to press their lips together urgently.
Lan Wangji grips Wei Wuxian’s waist, digging his fingers in more tightly as they move their mouths together, deepening the kiss when he hears a quiet moan escape the man in his arms. He reels in his escalating desire and heaves a few deep breaths, entranced by the rapid rise and fall of Wei Wuxian’s chest. “Wei Ying.”
“That’s not normally a part of the recommended aftercare, Lan Zhan,” teases Wei Wuxian, nosing at Lan Wangji’s cheek insistently, forcing him to turn his head. “Now stop delaying and look at your new tattoo already!”
Lan Wangji lets go of Wei Wuxian’s waist in favor of clasping one of his hands, not wanting to fully let go yet, not ever. The artist clutches back, and moves alongside him to observe the reaction. Lan Wangji exhales, and it’s too loud in the now silent room. He peers over his shoulder and stares in wonder at the image reflected back at him. His scars are incorporated into the stunning artwork Wei Wuxian has inked onto his back, a half-dead canvas that this man somehow brought back to life. The intricate tattoo practically pulses with energy, and every inch of his body, every corner of his soul, has been awakened. The waves on his skin crash against him, washing away years of hardened debris, and leaving only hope and tranquility in their wake, as the pure, snowy petals dance throughout him.
Lan Wangji shifts his gaze to the radiant man standing beside him as a new rhythm drowns his senses, a new beat pounding resolutely within his heart and resonating in his soul. He knows this is more than he ever could have envisioned for himself - he holds onto a future clearer and brighter than he ever dared to imagine.