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“Where are you going?” Lan Wangji inquires, when Wei Wuxian attempts to slip from the bed quietly and unnoticed. Sun not yet cracking the protective layer of darkness, the pull towards a hidden corner of the Cloud Recesses is too insistent to ignore any longer. It’s been there for awhile, if Wei Wuxian is honest with himself, this itch of protective disapproval buried just under his skin, reeking of a melancholy held within too elegant a man to be filled with an ever-growing void.
It is not Wei Wuxian’s duty to fix what is broken in Gusu - taking on the burdens of others has never ridden on his shoulders, yet he has always chosen to steel himself with the strength necessary to do just that. There is nothing heroic about crushing oneself under the weight of others, but Wei Wuxian would never call himself a hero, and this is unlike anything else he’s ever faced. He carries himself with pride, even when he feels undeserving of his own devotion - he has always held his head high in the face of scorn and derision and judgment, which is less about the thick face Jiang Cheng always accuses him of, and more about a stubborn emotional self-preservation.
Except this task is not about false bravado and an upward tip of the chin - this will require no less than the barest of humility and ugliest of truths.
“Nowhere, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian waves in dismissal, although his gut clenches painfully at hiding anything from Lan Wangji. If he admits his destination, there will be insistence on accompaniment, his partner always striving to protect and defend, and yet the evasion sits like a stone lodged in his chest. He cannot build up false hope, bringing the one absent ray of light back into golden eyes which have lost enough, only to dull it again if he fails.
“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji already starts to rise from their bed in concern, but Wei Wuxian bounds over, kissing him lightly on the forehead and urging him back down, which earns a slight frown in return.
He moves to the door before all nerve escapes him, the lure of security and surety found within the embrace of this particular Lan always tempting in its immense, limitless warmth. “I’ll be back before you can even miss me!”
Wei Wuxian wonders if he is worthy enough to deserve absolution, if he is whole enough to offer it in return.
The sun is only cresting over the horizon when a quiet knock resounds throughout the tucked away cottage, startling Lan Xichen out of his meditation. Like so many mornings, this one has started too early and after barely any sleep, in direct contrast with the days he sleeps from dawn until dusk, waking just long enough to greet the moon before returning to bed. In a life previously kept in meticulous balance, now Fate mocks him for the magnitude of his weakness and poor judgment, which is no less than he has earned.
Idly musing as to what Wangji could possibly have come to tell him so early after rising, important enough to drag himself away from the heat of his bed and lover, Lan Xichen opens the door to greet his brother. On the threshold, bathed in a gentle pink glow and appearing smaller than ever before, stands Wei Wuxian - uninvited, unexpected, unallowed, but not entirely unwelcome. Lan Xichen peers behind him for his permanent escort.
“He’s not here,” admits Wei Wuxian, shrinking before Lan Xichen’s eyes. “And I know I’m not supposed to be either, but I guess it’s not shocking I’m breaking the rules of GusuLan.”
Lan Xichen tilts his head and paints the smallest of smiles on his face, although at the slight recoil from his visitor, perhaps it appears more like a sinister grimace than he intends. Wei Wuxian misinterprets, scrambling to salute in deference. “Zewu-Jun.”
“Young Master Wei,” returns Lan Xichen, with a bow of his head, before gesturing behind him as he steps aside. Wei Wuxian takes the cue properly. (For once, he thinks, immediately horrified at his lack of generosity towards this man.) “Please sit. Would you care for tea?”
Wei Wuxian nods his head, clutching at the black robes by his stomach. “Yes please, but-”. He slams his mouth shut and Lan Xichen notes the hesitant tremble of his lip. Before commenting on it, because he is still capable of proper manners and a semblance of grace, he turns to the small kitchen area to begin preparing the tea.
The retreating back of Lan Xichen brings a temporary relief, and Wei Wuxian releases a heavy exhale, a wave of lightheadedness brought in its wake. He kneels at the table and folds his hands, a futile attempt to calm his mind and slow his racing heart. He regrets not being honest with Lan Wangji, he should have begun this journey with truth, starting with the man who deserves nothing less than perfection. Yet another mistake to add to his tally, although he hopes to erase one in its stead.
Woken from his reverie at the approaching tea service, Wei Wuxian tracks his host as he fills first his cup and then fills his own. He nods in gratitude, reaching forward, watching the hot liquid slosh over the rim as his fumbling fingers grasp at the teacup.
“Young Master Wei, is everything alright?” As expected, Lan Xichen offers nothing but regal calm, ignoring his mishap and smoothing over it, although Wei Wuxian understands a facade when he sees one. He has witnessed Lan Wangji’s distress whenever he returns from his visits with this same man, brows tight with worry and eyes damp with concern. Sometimes he leaves bearing a tray of food, only to bring the untouched meal back into the kitchens some time later.
Wei Wuxian takes his sleeve and wipes up the spill, lightly laughing over the mess. “It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s too early for me, I guess.” He licks his lips when a flash of disapproval crosses Lan Xichen’s face. “Although I shouldn’t complain! I’m not complaining, I’m so grateful to you for allowing me here, for everything you’ve done for Lan Zhan, and for me.”
Lan Xichen smiles tightly. “I have done many things for Wangji over the years. It is nothing worthy of gratitude. He is my brother.”
“But just because you’re brothers doesn’t mean you owe him anything. You could have dismissed him as too much trouble along the way, given up on him as a lost cause. You have never done that, even when you are dealing with things beyond your control and circumstances that hurt you beyond anything you could have ever imagined or predicted. You always put Lan Zhan first, and I want to thank you! And please let him do the same for you.” Wei Wuxian hears the pleading tone, likely bordering on disrespect, and desperately wants to reel it back, disguise it under something less raw and pitiful, and yet he cannot stop the tumble of words now that they have begun, his anxiety revealed by relentless babble. “You are the one hurting now and he wants to help, he wants to ease your suffering, the loss of Chifeng-Zun and the betrayal of Lianfang-Zun, your sworn brothers-”
Brown eyes wide in shock and subtly mounting anger fix on him, pinning him in place and bringing the stream of consciousness to an abrupt choking halt before he had even hinted at what he came to say. “I am not doing this. Wei Wuxian, this is not your place to speak. If Wangji has something to say to me, he should say it.”
“Zewu-Jun, please. There are things that need to be said.”
“That does not make it your duty to say them.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry, I just want to be honest-”
“Young Master Wei, I am aware of how I must appear to you. I know I have sect duties that are being forced upon Wangji, ones he does not want nor that I want for him. I cause my uncle pain and disappointment, I fail the disciples, I am out of touch with GusuLan.” Lan Xichen’s smile has almost slipped off his face, although all Wei Wuxian sees is something fragile, clung to only with the slimmest of attempts at preserving a dignified and composed image - no one who cares about him expects nearly as much what he must demand of himself. Wei Wuxian understands that more than anything.
Lan Xichen stops his final admission before it slips out, before he reveals too much to this man who may have stolen Wangji’s heart, but is unreliable and guilty of causing as much pain as he attempts to now assuage. It is petty and certainly unbecoming of a Lan, a sect leader at that, however he struggles to fully accept Wei Wuxian as he is now. He vividly remembers the days, months, years, in which Wangji had been nothing less than tormented, haunted by memories of a long-dead individual who caused him anguish in his absence. Then, Wei Wuxian had the audacity to rebuke his brother’s steadfast devotion and attempts at romance with crass flirting and careless teasing - it is hard to move past someone who has been reckless with Wangji’s heart.
Wei Wuxian craves honesty, perhaps he needs to hear the brutal truth again. Maybe Lan Xichen should release all his own pain in a verbal deluge that can drown the voice of Wei Wuxian so he never has to hear a list of all his mistakes fly out of that perpetually moving mouth again. He is well aware of what they are, he reminds himself of the litany of errors throughout each and every day, as they seep through the cracks of this secluded cottage and poison his meditation. Lan Xichen will not. There is no excuse for a loss of composure of that magnitude, and the extreme hurt and betrayal it would cause Wangji tempers any brief relief a tongue lashing of his brother’s partner might bring him.
A quiet rap at the door breaks the silence, the dissonant atmosphere shattered by another presence. Convinced Wei Wuxian’s adoring, devoted shadow has finally arrived, Lan Xichen braces to yet again witness their happy ending, continual salt in his wounds. (Envy is not allowed in the Cloud Recesses, taunts his mind, ever present to remind him of all his failings, which now includes a twisted moment of wishing away his brother’s happiness. Pathetic. Wangji deserves this gift more than you.) He begins to rise to his feet.
A delicate, pale hand, undoubtedly stronger than it appears, touches his sleeve to stop him. It’s the least hesitant gesture Wei Wuxian has made since entering his private space, and it stops the torrent of negative thoughts before they consume him, grounding him back to the present. He stares down at the fingers pressing down on him, and he feels the weight of significance through the thick white fabric of his robes.
“Zewu-Jun, none of that is true. You’ve suffered losses, and it is okay to grieve. Feeling pain is not fragility nor is it lack of character. You haven’t failed people, they’ve failed you. Maybe every choice you made wasn’t the ideal one, but they are the choices you made and you can move on from them. You will heal, because you are strong and loving and capable, and you deserve to forgive yourself. There is no other forgiveness you need.” Wei Wuxian’s voice is calm and clear, and when he speaks Lan Xichen is drawn to it, like a moth to a flame, and although it might singe his wings, the flutter of his heart wishes to bask in its warmth.
“Young Master Wei, you do not need to say such generous things.” Lan Xichen’s mind draws blank after the unexpected eloquence, of which he is certain he is undeserving. Another knock on his door, Wangji surely on the other side impatiently seeking reunion with Wei Wuxian.
“I believe in you, which might not mean anything to you, nor should it, but Lan Zhan believes in you. He’s so pure and so good, if he finds no fault, there must not be any to be found.” Wei Wuxian pauses to glance at the door, a simple smile spreading across his face, as if he can discern the person on the other side of the door just by the sound of his knuckles hitting wood. “I don’t think he’s here for me.”
“He is always there for you.” Lan Xichen reveals a glimpse into one of his greatest fears, one that is beyond selfish, and which he fervently attempts to stifle whenever it shows itself in all its hideousness.
Wei Wuxian, always more clever and more serious than anyone gives him credit for, peers at him in contemplation. He squeezes his forearm, a silent support that Lan Xichen appreciates in all its sincerity, and for a moment, he believes he gets a peek into the core of this man’s character, understanding all the inner beauty that his brother sees in him. “Yes, he is. That doesn’t mean he’s not there for you too. Love isn’t something that forces your hand and gives you impossible choices, it’s something that stretches your heart and makes it as big as it needs to be. The heart always makes space for more love. There is and always has been room for you, and there always will be. You know love, you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself now if you didn’t understand the depth and complexity of it. Please, Zewu-Jun, let Lan Zhan keep loving you.”
Lan Xichen feels the familiar tightening in his eyes, though for once it’s not because of the anguished guilt of irreconcilable loss, the pain of missed opportunities and misplaced judgment. The tiniest of bricks has been lifted off his soul, he senses its departure. The wall does not crumble, it is still there, weighing him down, and yet the sense of lightness fills him with a promise of relief he has not been sure would ever be possible again.
Quiet words, softer than all the rough edges of his personality and spoken with a fierce dedication, spill out of Wei Wuxian's mouth. “I never meant to hurt him. I swear to you I will do everything in my power to never hurt him again.”
“I believe you, Young Master Wei.” Lan Xichen assures him when he hears the innocent oath, the honey sweet reason that must have brought Wei Wuxian to him in the first place. He comfortingly pats the hand on his arm, before getting to his feet in order to answer the door. As expected, his brother hovers, waiting to be allowed entry into his brother’s place of seclusion. “Wangji.”
What catches him by surprise is what Wangji carries in his arms - a tray bearing a hot breakfast, as well as a small vase of blushing asters and creamy tulips, is held out to him with no pretense, the gesture laced with generosity, devotion, and a quiet conviction. With a blinding clarity, Lan Xichen realizes this unwavering belief in him, given so freely and easily from his brother, has been present the entire time, forever, their whole lives. He accepts the tray and welcomes Wangji inside, a genuine smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, his lips yearning to return to a most familiar position, although it seems more like an echo of a long-ago past he still longs to bring to the present. He notes the golden shine of his brother’s eyes when they drink in Wei Wuxian, and battles down anything that isn’t peace at Wangji’s contentment. He motions everyone to sit, uncovering the fragrant ginger congee, wilted bok choy, and steamed buns.
“Brother.” Wangji dips his head and waits for him to take the first bite. Wei Wuxian glances at them both, holding his tongue, and watches him expectantly, hope radiating off of both of them and crashing against him like the waves of the sea. He takes a bowl and spoons congee into it, lifting a small mouthful and blowing on it. His stomach twinges in anticipation, and he finds himself truly hungry. As he puts the bite into his mouth, he notices the immediate satisfaction it brings to his brother’s face, before he turns to fill a bowl for Wei Wuxian, handing it to him before helping himself.
Wei Wuxian is less hesitant in his eating, wriggling like an excited puppy being fed a meal as he kneels beside Lan Wangji. “Is it good, Zewu-Jun? Lan Zhan mentioned that you like ginger, which shocked me at first because it’s an actual flavor and even a little hot and spicy! I didn’t think flavor was allowed in the Cloud Recesses. Do you like it? Wait, Lan Zhan, do you even like it or did you just make it with us in mind? Do you like ginger?”
Lan Xichen closes his eyes, for the first time hearing Wei Wuxian’s voice in its full array of tone and depth, supported by the strong and loyal hum of agreement from Wangji. He wonders what his voice adds to their harmony, determined to join in since he’s been invited to try. They are his family and he wants to embrace that more than he has so far - suddenly he yearns for at least this first step. “This is good, and it is everything I need in this moment.”