Chapter Text
please love me, reunion
The dark, murky coloured robes of Qinghe Nie sect disciples flutter around, and for a moment Lan Xichen feels too clean for the Unclean Realm, very much like the first time he's come here with his uncle. He forgets it immediately, though, as his eyes land on a tall figure striding towards him. A smile breaks on his face and he clasps his trembling hands together in greeting before they can act on their own and wind around Nie Mingjue, now standing in front of him.
"Da-ge," Xichen breathes out the word he's longed to voice out for months, lowering his eyes in a little play of proper respect.
Nie Mingjue snorts at this. His eyebrows are furrowed and his shoulders tense, but when Lan Xichen looks up, he sees amused glistening in the older man's eyes, a shadow of a beam eager to come out for a dance. Goodness, he's missed this.
"What's with the sudden visit? Weren't you too busy training with your Uncle to even go out for night hunts with me?" Mingjue asks, his eyes swiftly sweeping across a few of Qinghe servants and disciples who've come to greet esteemed Sect Leader Lan. When he looks back at Xichen, a traitorous smile is already curling at the corners of his lips, and Lan Xichen knows Nie Mingjue has been waiting for this visit as well. Of course he has.
"I reckoned it was time for a reunion," Xichen says, allowing himself to place his hand on Mingjue's shoulder. "This busy sect leader has missed his dear friend very much. Who could have thought that a year might feel so long?"
"This sect leader is amazed that being closed up in Cloud Recesses with your Uncle didn't feel like an eternity," Mingjue retorts, lightly picking on Xichen's politeness. He laughs at the soft sigh which escapes Lan Xichen's lips, then lifts his hand to rest on the white back as he leads Xichen further into the dusty streets, leaving the eavesdropping members of the sect behind.
Lan Xichen is babbling silently about the past year they've spent apart, about new disciples in Gusu Lan and all the times Uncle has made him copy the rules because of improper laughing. A tender smile never leaves his face, be it directed at Mingjue, at Qinghe Nie disciples who greet him and follow his white figure with their eyes, or at nothing in particular. Mingjue can barely keep a wide smile off his own face; Xichen's positivity has always been difficult to ignore.
He's not complaining, however. It's refreshing to have Lan Xichen around again, to feel his long fingers ghosting over his arm when he wants Mingjue's undivided attention. It's a nice change after one year of nothing but a memory of Xichen's fingertips on smooth paper he wrote a few carefully phrased letters on.
Now, after being apart for so long, it takes all of Nie Mingjue's self-control not to grab Xichen's hand and press him against the wall to kiss him breathless ; the only thing stopping him is the fact that exactly such behaviour has become the reason Lan Qiren has made Xichen go into seclusion to attain for improper actions, presented to the outside world as a certain training the young sect leader needs to go through. Mingjue tightens his fists at the memory of Lan Qiren's reaction when he saw Xichen with Mingjue hiding in the far corner of Cloud Recesses halls, their lips caught between each other's, his beloved nephew's forehead ribbon tangled in the hands of another man. It was not a pleasant sight to see Xichen get dragged away, and being called a mistake and a bad influence on Xichen hurt more than any wounds during the night hunts. Nie Mingjue cannot afford to let it happen again, he cannot even imagine not seeing Xichen for another year or possibly ever. He needs Lan Xichen, he wants to have him around, always.
The white robes fluttering around do not belong in Unclean Realm but the sight is more than familiar, thus the clash between the colours is pleasant to Mingjue. Xichen fits nicely both in the streets and in his quarters, when they reach them. He's a piece of art which Nie Huaisang has always said his big brother's room lacks.
Finally, when Xichen is seated in the middle of the room, even if for a little while only, but Mingjue's quarters are complete again.
Unlike many times before, now they're sitting on the opposite sides of the low table, bumping shoulders and gentle embraces only a memory in their hearts. Xichen's ribbon is tied properly, flat against his forehead instead of Mingjue's hands as he pours two matching cups of tea. Mingjue is glad that at least behind the closed doors there are still some things which Xichen doesn't act as a guest about. It makes him soft inside; a feeling Xichen only is able to evoke.
"I've brought something for you," Xichen suddenly says, his bright eyes on Mingjue, watching him as if he's not sure when he will get a chance to do it again, deemed improper for his feelings. "It's not exactly the thing you appreciate, however, it is the thought behind which matters, right?" He reaches into his sleeve and takes out a scroll, passing it to Mingjue with a tender smile on his face. Mingjue doesn't care what he receives; he'd take a handful of dirt if it was Xichen himself giving it to him.
"Perhaps you could even hang it on the wall. A-Sang would stop bothering you about the lack of aesthetics. Besides..." Xichen trails off, lowering his eyes to follow Mingjue's fingers unrolling the paper.
"You painted this," Mingjue states the moment his eyes land on the graceful strokes on the scroll. Long, thin leaves and nearly transparent blossoms are brought to life on the paper, Xichen's neat handwriting twirling into a few lines of a poem atop.
Lan Xichen hums, a soft agreement that reverberates in Mingjue's heart.
"It's a daffodil," Xichen says, then, after letting out the lightest of chuckles, he asks, "Do you know what it means?"
He takes a sip of his tea while Mingjue gives him a look, a low "Of course not" escaping his lips. He's not his brother, the meanings of flowers and pretty pictures do not reach his heart. It's simply the fact itself that this specific piece was created by Xichen which makes it invaluable to Mingjue, whether it has a deeper meaning or not.
Xichen smiles again, his face glowing, beautiful as ever. The hues of the shadows on the daffodil flowers are nearly the same as his eye colour.
"It means 'please love me', the embodiment of my selfish request," Xichen finally says. He puts down his cup and his hand slides on the table until his fingers reach Mingjue.
"I am offering you my heart again," he breathes, "As it belongs to you forever."