Work Text:
Jiang Cheng has only felt this lost in once in his life. The despair he felt, the anguish squeezing his chest, the burning behind his eyes. To those feeling, he only had one moment he could compare to now.
The burning of Lotus Pier.
And now, wearing white, his month old nephew in his arms, he felt the same pain. He looked at his sister's face, calm and peaceful, unlike her death had been. He wanted to see her smile again, wanted to see her laugh again, scold him, comfort him, hold him one last time. But that was impossible.
Jin Ling trashed in his arms, reaching for a mother that wouldn't be there to care for him, to watch him grow. Jin Ling would grow up without a mother and a father. In Jiang Cheng's eyes, only one person was to blame.
But blaming him, the man he once considered a brother, the man who grew up beside him, the man whose smile, as obnoxious as it had been, always put him at ease... that also hurt. But now that man is dead, and the whole world believes him to have done the deed. Such an heroic deed.
(Wei Wuxian may have deserved Jiang Cheng's wrath, but he could never kill him, never, never, never–)
Brother and sister, one dying days after the other, both leaving behind a brother who suffered for them. Brother and sister, one deserving of a funeral, the other not even leaving behind a corpse. Brother and sister, his brother and sister, each others brother and sister–
The funeral passed in a blur. People payed their respects and gave him their condolences, and congratulated him on killing the Yiling Patriarch. He smiled and thanked them, not letting himself tap into the anger, the pain, the sadness that was a touch away.
Hours after the procession, after A-jie's body had been turned into ash, after everyone had left him, after Jin Ling had finally fallen asleep, after spending hours on the ancestor's room – on his knees, praying and asking his ancestor's for guidance, what can he do, he feels so lost, please, please, please help him –, he finally retreats back into his room. It feels small, cramped, holding in everything like he is holding his emotions. And now, alone, he grieves.
Those who hear his cries must pity him, losing his sister to someone who used to be so close to him, it couldn't be easy to keep such a facade during the funeral. Those who hear him don't know he grieves his brother, who died with a sad smile on his face as he controlled the corpses to kill him. Don't know he grieves for Jin Ling, too young to understand what happened in the last month. He grieves the Wens who died unjustly, just old people trying to live their lives, who have no one else mourning them, because everyone who cared about them is dead as well.
He cries and screams and tears his room apart, whipping everything with Zidian, with his bare hands, until he lays in a mess of bedding, books, papers, and clothing on the floor, dark hair free from its confinements, hugging himself as he falls apart where no one can reach him. He falls asleep in that mess, tired from raging and tired from the cruel world he lives in.
.
He wakes up, still tired and with the anger still burning in his chest, tucked into his bed. Around him, the mess has been cleaned up, his room looking as pristine as ever. He felt a hand running through his hair, calming him. It reminded him of when he was a kid and A-jie used to sing him to sleep.
The thought gives him whiplash, and he jumps from the bed, away from whoever was doing the gesture. He tries to keep his anger in check, but his breath is heavy and he can feel the tears threatening to spill. He doesn't turn back to see who was there, trying to comfort him, but that's mostly because he doesn't need to. Only one person would be foolish enough to do it.
“Jiang-xiong...” Nie Huaisang's voice comes from behind him and he turns his head to glare at the man. They haven't seen each other in a while, probably since A-jie's wedding, and he couldn't help but notice how different he looked. The hair that once reached his shoulders now reaches his back, partly held in the same bun as before. His eyes looked more tired, but who can blame him when not only is he trying to help a grieving friend, but also trying to take care of a brother too close to qi deviation than what should be healthy, even by QingheNie's sect standards.
“What.” He spits, not caring about formalities or courtesies. Besides, they had been friends back when they studied in Gusu, such things weren't needed between them. It does lack the usual friendliness, but Nie Huaisang won't hold it against him when he's in such a delicate state of mind.
“Are… are you okay, Jiang-xiong?”
Jiang Cheng has to bite down a cold laugh. Is he okay? Is he okay? Is he okay?!
“Do I look okay?” The silence of the answer hangs between them, anger building inside him, ready to be let out. “Answer me, Huaisang. Do. I. Look. Okay?”
“Jiang-xiong...” Is all he says, like a bird who can only repeat what he has been taught. Like it's the only thing he can say. He walks forward, as if to place a hand on his shoulder, but Jiang Cheng shoots a glare, stopping the other man on his tracks.
“Leave.” He turns his back on his friend, closing his eyes to control his emotions, unconsciously spinning the ring on his finger. Everything starts feeling too much and he knows how he gets when he's like this. He doesn't want to hurt Nie Huaisang.
However, Nie Huaisang refuses to leave. He stalks up to him, and does the last thing Jiang Cheng imagined he'd do. He hugs him.
Arms slip around him, thightening when he let's out a shaking breath in both surprise and sorrow. Nie Huaisang stands a little smaller than him, his forehead touching the nape of his neck and he understands. He understands what his friend wants him to feel, since he knows Jiang Cheng won't listen to reason. Understands that he wants to be a safe space, someone he can come to even when he's at his worst.
The tears start running down his face and he let's himself cry again, but this time not alone. Huaisang keeps muttering words of comfort on his back, words that while he doesn't capture them accurately, he perceives them anyway. Words that ground him, that don't let him lose himself to the usual anger he usually falls back into.
Instead, he lets his guard down, turning in the hold to embrace him back. He rests his face on Huaisang's shoulder, even if he has to hunch his back to do so, leaving a puddle of tears on the robes. He cries and screams and grieves and let's everything that he has been holding back out. Huaisang just holds him, tightening and loosening his embrace according to his needs, rubbing his back in calming motions, just being there for him.
Slowly, when Jiang Cheng's legs feel like giving in, he is led to his bed, to sit down and rest. He doesn't let go of Huaisang, however. He shed all his tears, yes, and his throat is raw from all the screaming, so he won't be doing any more of that. But he doesn't let go of Huaisang. He lets himself be engulfed in the warmth, in the comfort his friend gives him.
And for the first time since his sister's death, he starts believing that he might heal, no matter how long it might take.