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When Lan Wangji comes into the room, Wei Ying is staring at nothing. There are dark bruises under Wei Ying's eyes, purple and blue, proof of an exhaustion that goes far deeper than a simple lack of sleep. His lips are moving almost soundlessly, letting out a stream of words that Lan Wangji knows, from experience, aren't fully coherent anymore.
It hurts, seeing Wei Ying like this, a mere shadow of the bright, bright man he used to be.
But by now, that hurt is old, a scar that barely pulls anymore.
"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying suddenly calls, and Lan Wangji blinks to find those unnerving red eyes fixated on him. "Lan Zhan, you're back."
"En," Lan Wangji confirms.
He doesn't move, stays still as a statue until Wei Ying finally moves himself to gesture for him to come closer. There's a smile on his pale face, a bit broken, a bit faded, but still a thousand times brighter than it ever is with anyone else.
Lan Wangji shouldn't feel so selfishly happy that it's only for him that Wei Ying smiles like this these days, but he is .
Wei Ying does that to him.
"Come here, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying calls.
He's retreating backwards, and like a faithful dog Lan Wangji follows, his feet bringing him to Wei Ying without any input from his brain. Not that his brain would chose differently, a slave to his heart as it is.
Where Wei Ying is concerned, Lan Wangji is just a moth, unerringly drawn to the flame that will one day burn it.
Wei Ying takes a few more steps, then sits on the throne-like chair that some Wen carpenter built for him, for the Yiling patriarch. It's a huge, decorated piece of dark wood, magnificent and heavy. It's perfect for the godlike figure everyone seems to paint Wei Ying as, these days.
Whenever he sits there, Lan Wangji can't help but agree - Wei Ying, even as diminished as he is due to his use of the seal, looks regal in this chair. He's only lacking a crown, and he would be the king of this undeserving realm.
"Come, Lan Zhan," he calls again, and he smiles when Lan Wangji comes with no protest. A pretty hand, a flutist's hand, lightly taps the edge of his chair. "Come and sit by me."
Lan Wangji nods, and walks to the chair. He's about to kneel down on the ground, by the foot of it, when Wei Ying tuts and suddenly surges forward. Quick as a snake, his hand darts to his collar, and drags him towards him, stumbling forward clumsily.
Only a hand bracing against the wooden arm of the throne prevents Lan Wangji from crashing on top of Wei Ying.
"Wei Ying?" He asks, wary.
"I said sit by me," Wei Ying says, and there's almost a pout on his lips. Enough for Lan Wangji to see a boy in white robes in his stead, a wildfire in human skin that has always captivated him. Wei Ying lets him go, and pats his own thighs meaningfully. "Here, Lan Zhan."
Lan Wangji can feel blood rushing to his ears, and he can bet from Wei Ying's delighted laugh that they are as red as hot iron. Still, because he never could refuse Wei Ying, because he swore never to disobey, never to let him down, he moves.
Cautiously, lifting the hem of his clothes, he climbs onto the chair, and then sits down. He settles in Wei Ying's lap like he was made for it, fitting there like a missing puzzle piece.
Wei Ying hums, content, and brings a hand to Lan Wangji's side.
"Lan Zhan," he says, and then hums again, staring at Lan Wangji without seeing him, "Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you're really the only one that's real. Everyone else looks at me like they can't see me…. But you like me, don't you Lan Zhan?"
His eyes focus again, and Lan Wangji nods. He forces sounds through the knot in his throat.
"En," he agrees. And then, because words always make Wei Ying happy, he says, "I like Wei Ying. I will always like Wei Ying."
"Even if I change?" Wei Ying asks.
"Wei Ying is Wei Ying," Lan Wangji says. Says, slowly, "I love Wei Ying."
Wei Ying immediately brightens, and it just highlights how fragile he looks, how brittle.
He's the strongest person Lan Wangji knows, the most powerful in the world, but in moments like this, shared moments, private moments, hidden and secret, he looks like that disciple studying in gusu again. Simply yearning for a kind word, for Lan Wangji's attention.
"You do?" He says, as he always does, as if Lan Wangji hadn't told him a hundred times already. He sighs happily and drags Lan Wangji closer, nuzzling his chest, "I'm glad. Lan Zhan, you will never leave me, right?"
"En," Lan Wangji promises. "Never."
No matter that Wei Ying changed so much that some days, Lan Wangji almost can't recognize him. No matter that most people call him a monster, and call Lan Wangji worst things for following him of his own volition. There's no one, no word, no force on earth that could make him leave, except death - and even then, Wei Ying would bring him back.
Lan Wangji is alright with that.
After all, he swore an oath. He knelt in front of this man, this emperor over a dead realm, the saviour of many and the boogeyman of so many more, and swore himself, sword, heart and soul, to him.
And maybe Wei Ying is no king, and Lan Wangji is no knight. Maybe it makes his oath obsolete. But he doesn't care.
For he is Wei Ying's, and Wei Ying asked him to be by his side always.
And Lan Wangji can't imagine any other place he'd rather be.
