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This close, the bond between them is less a filament and more a weaving together. Shen Wei can feel Zhao Yunlan's pulse as if it has been threaded through his own veins, can follow the quick inhalation and exhalation of breath through Zhao Yunlan's lungs as well as through his own as clearly as he can feel the heat from Zhao Yunlan's skin radiating against his, warm despite the cold night air.
Their bond isn't quite a sense—isn't anything like the energy Shen Wei can manipulate so freely. So he doesn't know how it is possible that he is experiencing all of those things, and also… seeing it. As a glow between them—something rich and warm and precious they instinctively curl into as they wrap arms and legs together and slowly relax under the cloak Shen Wei pulls around them.
"That…" Zhao Yunlan says with slow awe. "Was…" He smiles, reaches out to let his fingers play with the sweaty hair falling across Shen Wei's forehead.
"Good?" Shen Wei offers, knowing it's too small a word for all of what his heart can't even contain. What is spilling over into this bond stretching between them.
"Yeah." Zhao Yunlan's face is always beautiful, but it makes Shen Wei's heart catch to look at his smile now. So bright, even here in the dimness. When he'd come to Shen Wei earlier, suggesting this—or less suggested than initiated it, body tense and words terse as he grabbed and pulled and let Shen Wei understand what was throwing such deep shadows across the now-glowing bond—it had made his heart ache in far worse ways. Then, Shen Wei hadn't known if anything he could do would be enough to give what Zhao Yunlan needed, not when so much of the hurt had come from him in the first place. But now…
Zhao Yunlan's lips brush his cheek. "Thank you."
The words—the weight of the sentiment behind them—pierces Shen Wei with joy. Doubt follows a heartbeat later—dark thunder chasing the lightning-bright perfection of the moment, and Zhao Yunlan's arm tightens where it wraps around Shen Wei's chest. "Baby, no. Just breathe through it, okay?"
Neither one of them needs to talk about the guilt, or how Shen Wei shouldn't feel it. They both know all the arguments, every single in and out. And if he were alone now, Shen Wei could have won those arguments. Would have won the right to regret his unforgivable words to Zhao Yunlan, though his mind had been twice-bent by Ye Zun at the time. Would have remembered everything terrible that happened up here on the SID rooftop not so very long ago, and how he had thought the worst of Zhao Yunlan, who then, as now, as always, had been trying to protect Shen Wei himself.
But right now, with the reservoir of happiness between them to draw from, and Zhao Yunlan murmuring soothing endearments, Shen Wei allows himself to seek shelter from that grasping storm in Zhao Yunlan's arms, and wait until the moment passes. He calms.
"Better?" Zhao Yunlan murmurs, knowing the answer before Shen Wei smiles at him.
"Thank you," he says, and decides to repeat Zhao Yunlan's gesture as well as his words. But Zhao Yunlan shifts against him just then, so the kiss lands on an eyebrow instead of a cheek. Shen Wei pauses, wondering if he should try again.
Zhao Yunlan laughs, and Shen Wei can do nothing but laugh with him. Giddily, at his poor aim and Zhao Yunlan's reaction and the whole situation: the two of them out on the SID's rooftop with nothing but Shen Wei's cloak and the lingering heat of their ardor to protect them against the night.
"Ah, I'm sorry, Xiao Wei."
"For what?" He glances over to see Zhao Yunlan looking up at the sky. Not that there is anything to see, other than the city's murky reflection in the sullen clouds above.
"I thought—it's the roof, so we could see the moon. It's full tonight, I checked. But I forgot all about the forecast."
"The moon?"
"I kept wishing I could show it to you." Zhao Yunlan's wistfulness, as if recalling times very long since past, tells Shen Wei that this wish was one Zhao Yunlan had made for his younger self. "When we were outside together at night, I just—your moon back then was hidden so much of the time, and when it wasn't it felt like a ghost to me."
"We saw the moon in Qingxi village," Shen Wei remembers.
"And then you passed out!"
Zhao Yunlan makes a fair point. He also shivers, so Shen Wei shifts the very fabric of the cloak into something thick and heavy enough for winter, and pulls it closer around them both. At that, Zhao Yunlan makes a contented noise, nuzzling against Shen Wei's neck. "Mm. That's nice. I guess the moon doesn't really matter—light pollution and all that."
It is—silly, what Shen Wei feels then. But that little smudge on Zhao Yunlan's happiness—the threat of anything dimming his satisfaction—is something Shen Wei won't allow. Not tonight, not when it is within his power to banish that darkness.
Shen Wei takes a breath to steady himself, delving deep for the power he was once taught by the Keeper of Dixing's storms. Then lifts his hand from Zhao Yunlan's shoulderblade toward the heavens and flicks his wrist.
It is just a little nudge. A swirl, a breeze—a rent in the clouds, which will be growing thicker elsewhere, releasing sudden showers that Shen Wei finds himself caring not at all about.
The moon is so bright. In this winter's night it shines clear and cold, and Zhao Yunlan turns wide eyes glinting with that blue light first to the sky, and then to Shen Wei. His lips form a wow.
Shen Wei kisses him then, under the moonlight, and feels the last shadows lifting from Zhao Yunlan's heart.