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“It’s weird, right?”
Lan Zhan glances down at him, who’s already curling up in the blankets by his side. Wei Ying rests his cheek on the arm outstretched beneath him, and with his voice muffled by the way he’s leaning into Lan Zhan’s chest, he continues, “Or, well. It’s strange, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
Wei Ying huffs. “You know, how I’m not… me.”
Shuffling.
Pulling his arm from under the blanket, Lan Zhan brushes away Wei Ying’s bangs to get a clear look at his expression. But Wei Ying tightens his grip on Lan Zhan’s waist, almost apprehensive accompanied with the clouded gaze he sneaks at him from beneath his eyelashes.
Lan Zhan brushes a knuckle against Wei Ying’s cheek. “You are you,” he says simply.
Wei Ying purses his lips. “No, I mean. I’m not exactly… me.” He glances downward, upward, sideways—at any direction that isn’t him, before he says softly, “Not with this body.”
Lan Zhan stares.
“Wha—Lan Zhan, what are you—”
He rolls Wei Ying on top of him, letting him bask in the moonlight that shines through their window. Lan Zhan shifts to sit up himself, a quiet determination as he holds Wei Ying’s face close to his.
Wei Ying’s voice reaches his ears, a soft whisper. “How can you love me when everything about me isn’t… me? The me you fell in love with all those years ago.”
“Not you?” Lan Zhan asks. Wei Ying frowns, an answer in itself.
“Everything is different. My eyes, my nose, my mouth—” He sucks in a hard breath. “Nothing feels right.”
Lan Zhan hums, then leans forward to place a soft kiss on Wei Ying’s eyebrow. Wei Ying, in turn, blinks in shock, and presses the back of his hand against that spot on his forehead, still burning.
“Your eyebrows are thinner,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying blinks. “What?”
“Your eyebrows used to be thicker, darker. But the way they create wrinkles when you frown is still the same.”
Wei Ying sucks in another soft breath of air as he closes his eyes. Lan Zhan rubs comforting hands over his thighs when he feels Wei Ying’s grip tightening on his clothes.
“And your eyes,” Lan Zhan says, pressing kisses against both eyelids, “are rounder, slightly bigger. But the light in your eyes has never once changed since we were children.”
Wei Ying opens them. “Is that so?”
Lan Zhan hums again. “And your left eye would squint more than your right if you heard something unusual. It still does. Just like what you’re doing right now.”
Wei Ying sighs when a soft sensation presses on his nose.
“Your nose used to be pointy, somewhat big.”
Wei Ying frowns. “Hey.”
“But even though it’s smaller now, the way you sniff the air when you smell good food remains the same. You’re even scrunching your nose now, like you would when you don’t believe something.”
“I…” Wei Ying says, but it falters somewhat, as he continues in a smaller voice, “believe you.”
Lan Zhan stares at him, at the way Wei Ying still refuses to meet eye contact, at the way his fingers twitch and fiddle with the collar of Lan Zhan’s robes with anxiety, the quiet insecurities he would bury within him until the end of his days raging on furiously in the way he would slouch his posture and droop his shoulders.
“Your ears,” Lan Zhan says instead, as he presses quick kisses on Wei Ying’s outer lobe before he can shy away. Wei Ying lets out a surprised laugh against his will, moving his hands to Lan Zhan’s shoulders to balance himself from tipping over. “Although mine grows red, yours remain the more sensitive one.”
Wei Ying sniffs, looking upward.
“Your cheeks are flushed,” Lan Zhan points out.
Wei Ying playfully slaps his shoulder in embarrassment.
Lan Zhan reciprocates by bringing Wei Ying closer to his chest, pressing his lips to his neck. He feels Wei Ying swallow. “Your voice is slighter higher. But your laughter is the same. I know it’s you calling my name because you call it in the same tone. Almost song-like. A whistle in the wind.”
“How poetic,” Wei Ying softly says.
He brings his hands to cup Lan Zhan’s face, brushing his thumbs over the hills of his cheeks, the plane of his forehead, the threads of his hair. They stay like that for a moment, taking the time to just stare at each other, feel each other, allowing themselves to soak in the reassurance that they’re here, together, safe.
When Wei Ying’s eyes close on their own accord, Lan Zhan leans in, their lips meeting in a deep kiss. It’s slow, purposeful, an attempt at consolation in a way Lan Zhan can offer best when words can’t. It’s everything their first kiss wasn’t. There’s no time limit, no rush of adrenaline, no spur of the moment thinking, just them and the night. Lan Zhan can feel Wei Ying’s hands roam around his face and the tilt of his head as he ventures for deeper kisses, a habit he’s made because he still isn’t able to remain still even for this.
Lan Zhan makes sure to press extra quick kisses on Wei Ying’s lips as they break apart, making him break out into a small smile.
“But your smile,” Lan Zhan says, “will always be yours.”
Wei Ying drops his head onto Lan Zhan’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his neck tightly. The arms around Wei Ying’s waist tighten as well, bringing them even closer.
“You know,” he says, “I bet that even if I didn’t play our song on Dafan Mountain, you would have still found out it was me sooner than later, right?”
“You weren’t very,” Lan Zhan says, thinking of the right words, “good. At acting.”
Wei Ying scoffs, mouth wide as he straightens out to gape at him. “What do you mean I wasn’t good? I fooled everyone else until the end, didn’t I? You’re just special, Lan Zhan. Who knows how much you stared at me when we were teenagers. I bet you stared at me when I was sleeping, too!”
Now, Lan Zhan huffs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I did.”
Wei Ying perks up. “Did you really?”
“When you fell asleep writing your punishments in the Library Pavillion.”
He hums, his tone full of mischief. “How did I look? Serene? Peaceful? I bet my looks could have rivaled even that of you Lans, huh?”
“You were drooling.”
“Lan Zhan!”
“All over the papers.”
Lan Zhan chuckles gently when Wei Ying falls over on the bed dramatically, staring up at him with a pout. Lan Zhan follows suit, settling back into bed with his heart significantly lighter.
“If it makes you feel better,” Lan Zhan continues.
Wei Ying squints at him. “What?”
“You still drool.”
“Good night, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying groans, rolling over to face the other direction.
Lan Zhan only laughs softly, wrapping an arm around his husband’s middle and pressing a soft kiss on the back of his neck. Wei Ying welcomes it with no trouble at all, instead placing his hand on top of his. Lan Zhan lifts his head up just the slightest bit, just to see red bloom over Wei Ying’s cheeks, before lying back down and closing his eyes, more than satisfied.
“See you in the morning, Wei Ying.”