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Chapter Text

Wei Ying grew up with fairy tales.

His mother told them to him first in a gentle voice he could no longer remember, a warm presence at his side when his eyes were heavy with sleep, fighting to stay awake to hear the ending. His favorites were the ones that ended with triumph, whether it was winning a war or the prince sweeping the princess off her feet. He never said it out loud but he adored the love stories the most—the promise of something good and beautiful, a vow of happiness meant to last forever. He was young enough to only understand unconditional love.

When his parents died and he went to live with the Jiang family, he refused to let go of those stories. He told the ones he knew to Jiang Yanli, usually too excited and bouncing around, confusing the plot and using the wrong words. She listened to them anyway, would curl up in bed with him and Jiang Cheng when they were supposed to be sleeping and tell them new stories. Wei Ying never knew if she made them up or if they’d been ones told to her, too. 

Jiang Yanli told him love stories of princes and princesses until she noticed him handing flowers only to boys, deep blush on his cheeks and smile shy. That night, the stories changed to pretty princes and brave knights, to paupers and lords. Wei Ying never did thank her.

It had been a long time since he’d last seen Jiang Yanli. Even longer since someone had told him a love story.

But that was okay. Wei Ying made his own.

Well, kind of. Fictional ones, at least. 

It’s not that he didn’t have time to date. He didn’t, but that’s not what was stopping him. Wei Ying had always dreamed of meeting The One, always expected something special when they met. An instant connection. He wanted to look at them and know they were his match, that they were the one he’s been waiting for. He wanted to hear the angels singing, wanted to feel his heart beating out of his chest.

Wei Ying had been on his own for a long time, long enough that being lonely was becoming a default setting. Wei Ying did best with a crowd, when all eyes were on him, but it had been a long time since he had been thrown out of his adopted family’s house, since he had walked away and built a life for himself in a new city he had never seen before. Wei Ying knew fairy tales didn’t happen in real life but he still dreamed of if they did, of what might happen if the right person came into his life and swept him off his feet. Fairy tales did not exist but he wished they did, yearned for someone to steal him away from his nasty little apartment and give him a new family, to love him unconditionally despite his own family wanting nothing to do with him.

Wei Ying knew it was a dauntingly big thing to ask, but he had always been a dreamer.

There was one face in particular that came to mind when he thought of the potential for a great big love story.

Wei Ying had found a job at a coffee shop and cafe when he’d arrived in Suzhou all those years ago, happened upon it with luck that used to drive his brother crazy. Wei Ying had always been very good at wandering into the right situations and that is how he met Wen Ning, an easily-frazzled young man his age who had used his family’s money to open a coffee shop. Wei Ying had seen the sign in the window asking for a barista and he had presented himself with a big smile and no qualifications. Wen Ning was so grateful for the help that he practically cried as he hired him on sight.

It had been years since that day. Wei Ying worked hard and carved out a life for himself here, found a rhythm in the city to match his heartbeats and never looked back far enough to miss anything.

He wrote his own destiny. The love stories just came naturally.

Sure, sometimes it was just strangers on the streets, or strangers online. He’s lonely, okay? He’s allowed to do things that are a little pathetic. But there has never been a passing fancy that has lasted as long as this. Wei Ying had never fallen in love with an idea before he met Coffee Guy.

Coffee Guy came into the cafe every morning at exactly half past six. He ordered the exact same thing every single day: a cappuccino and a sesame bagel to go. He has long hair and big shoulders and a kind smile; he always smiles back at Wei Ying, and he always leaves a tip. He’s always wearing business casual, probably one of the very important people who work in a high-rise downtown. He has never offered his name once.

He is gorgeous and sweet and yeah, Wei Ying has a bit of a crush on him.

Sure, he doesn’t know his name, but what’s in a name? Everyone has those. It’s probably something sexy and befitting of a man with his jawbone. 

Wen Ning knew about his crush thanks to an embarrassing night out drinking and he always waited until Coffee Guy was gone before giving Wei Ying a concerned look. Wei Ying usually ignored him because there was absolutely nothing for Wen Ning to worry about. He knew the difference between reality and fantasy.

Wei Ying was lonely, not delusional. He flirts his socks off with the guy every day and never gets more than a polite smile—he knows when he’s got his eyes on something hopeless. Wei Ying was not in the business of getting his heart broken.

So what if, in those nights where he was a little sadder than usual and he was imagining arms wrapped around him, he thought of Coffee Guy’s arms. They were good arms. It didn’t mean anything.

Wei Ying was just here to serve coffee and survive. The last thing he needed to worry about were men who would never like him back.

But the Christmas season always reminded him of things that made him sad.

Wei Ying had nowhere to go for the holidays so he tended to offer himself to work long hours at the cafe. He didn’t mind it, honestly. He liked being able to sacrifice a little bit of his own time so others could spend more time with their families. It kept him busy, shortened the time he spent alone with his cat and takeaway dinners and all of the pictures he wouldn’t hang up on the walls of his shoebox apartment. So Wei Ying worked, and Wen Ning tried to keep him company as much as he could.

The were both there on Christmas Eve morning—the morning the world lost its damn mind.

The Christmas holidays slowed down the rush of customers into the cafe. Most people were home with their families; the regulars didn’t have to head to work and the streets were empty, Christmas Eve casting a gentle spell of quiet over the city. There was a blanket of snow on the ground like something out of a storybook.

Wei Ying decided to occupy himself with metal-shining the espresso machine. Wen Ning was on his phone, scrolling through Christmas playlists.

“How about this one?” Wen Ning asked, showing Wei Ying his screen. “It’s all carols sung by children.”

“That’s the most cursed thing you’ve ever showed me.”

“Children are cute!”

“Not when they sing. Just pick one of your normal ones.”

Wen Ning sighed but obliged, selecting a lighthearted pop cover of Silent Night. There wasn’t a single person in the cafe, so oddly quiet for an early morning. It was… boring.

“So,” he said because he wasn’t very good with silences or not having anything to do, “got any plans with your sister tonight?”

“She’s working, I probably won’t see her until tomorrow morning. Are you sure you don’t want to come over? My sister really wouldn’t mind.”

“She’d definitely beat me with a wooden spoon if I showed up at her house without warning,” Wei Ying replied, and then got serious when Wen Ning turned a very upset frown on him. “I’m sure, Wen Ning. I’m okay, really.”

“You never do anything for Christmas. Aren’t you lonely?”

Wei Ying was used to answering these questions multiple times a year, always asked by Wen Ning and always around Christmas. Wen Ning was sweet and kind, always conscientious and thoughtful. He was the only friend Wei Ying had in this city and he was grateful that, of all the people he’d met when he arrived here, it was Wen Ning.

“I’m okay,” he assured his friend, shooting him a smile as he turned his attention back to metal shining. “I’ve gotten used to it. Besides, I’ve already planned out my movie marathon of some of the cheesiest Christmas movies in recent history. I already bought all the alcohol.”

Wei Ying was a very self-deprecating person, which only served to make Wen Ning very gloomy. He could feel the intensity of his friend's sad eyes on the back of his neck; he didn’t dare glance back at him lest Wen Ning’s puppy dog eyes actually make him show up at Wen Qing’s house tomorrow morning. 

He knew they wouldn’t mind. That was the thing—the Wens would happily let him in if he asked, but he couldn’t bear imposing on them. Christmas is about family, and showing up even at Wen Ning’s invitation didn’t mean he belonged there.

Wei Ying was good doing what he always did. He made his own traditions.

Before he could explain any of this to Wen Ning for the thousandth time, the bell over the door rang, half past six.

Coffee Guy usually wore the same thing every day, a three-piece suits with ties of all shades of blue, his hair neatly combed and cut short as if to show off a jawline that truly rivaled a Renaissance sculpture, but today he was wearing a big jacket and a white scarf, cheeks and nose pink from the cold. He smiled with real kindness, not the surface-level polite kind, and his eyes were a memorable bronze that Wei Ying tried to find in other parts of the world, in grains of oak and mixtures of coffee and caramel. 

He breezed in and smiled when he saw Wei Ying—and, by extension, Wen Ning.

“Good morning,” the stranger and Wei Ying greeted each other at the same time, and then exchanged a smile. The man crossed the space like a daydream come to life as Wei Ying leaned as seductively as he dared against the counter and asked, “Don’t tell me you’re working on Christmas Eve?”

Coffee Guy smiled. “I could say the same. I figured you would be closed.”

Wen Ning was already working on the man’s regular order without comment, going through the familiar movements like they were second nature. Wei Ying made a mental note to get him a kick-ass Christmas gift.

Wei Ying offered a quizzical tilt of his head, a concerned frown. “You won’t be working all day, though, will you? With this snow, the trains probably won’t be running by midday.”

Coffee Guy glanced toward the windows as if he hadn’t just come in slogging through the snow in question. “Perhaps. It gets me out of the house for a few hours, at least.”

“Big family?”

“Something like that,” Coffee Guy told him with a laugh like it was a joke only he knew. Wen Ning put his coffee and bagel down on the counter as Wei Ying rang up the order, fingers hitting the buttons like second nature.

“Merry Christmas!” Wei Ying wished as the man turned to go. Coffee Guy glanced over his shoulder and offered him a grin.

“You too, Wei Ying,” Coffee Guy said with a sweet smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes—and then he was out the door, bundling up as he made his way back onto the street.

Wei Ying stared at the man hovering at the curbside, messing with the ties of his coat. He turned toward Wen Ning.

“He knows my name,” he said because he was a master of observation. “Wen Ning, he knows my name and I still don’t know his!”

“You should make a move,” Wen Ning said the same way he always did, this exchange as much of a routine as Coffee Guy’s. “At the least, you can just ask for his name, that’s not too forward.”

Wei Ying sighed and flopped the top half of his body down against the counter, sprawling out. “What in the world would I say to him?” Wei Ying despaired into the countertop. “I’m just the guy who makes coffee and he looks and walks like money.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t ask.”

“I’ll also never be rejected if I don’t ask, so I’ll probably just do that.”

Wen Ning pouted at him. Wei Ying, face still smooshed against the counter, stuck his tongue out at him.

“Please disinfect that,” Wen Ning replied mildly, making Wei Ying laugh.

It was all good-natured and easy, but a little part of Wei Ying was at least aware of the impossibility. He knew his dreams were fantasy, probably a little weird and uncomfortable but nothing more than a wish on a star. There was no way to bridge that gap between his loneliness and a stranger’s pretty face.

There was a stark difference between reality and delusion. As much as Wei Ying daydreamed, he didn’t expect the two to merge, and he didn’t want to face a reality where that man was not everything he ever wanted.

Wei Ying shook his head and lifted his body up with a grunt, rolling his shoulders. He opened his mouth to say something, turned back to face Wen Ning—

His attention caught on activity outside the front windows. Coffee Guy was standing on the other side of the road next to the canal, talking to a pair of men who seemed to be arguing. Coffee Guy seemed to be attempting to help with peace but was not welcome—as Wei Ying watched, one of the men rounded on him, charging close enough to him that they were almost chest to chest. In one move, the coffee cup fell, spilling all over the snowy sidewalk.

“Wen Ning,” Wei Ying called his attention without moving his eyes away. Wen Ning turned around at the same moment the arguing man reached up and pushed Coffee Guy with all of his might, sending him flying back against the railing—and then up and over into the frozen water below.

He heard Wen Ning shout something but Wei Ying was moving before he could even think, a rush of adrenaline and blood pounding through his ears and raw panic. He was over the counter and sprinting out the door before his brain caught up to his body, sprinting across the street without a single hesitation. If he dodged traffic, he didn’t even notice—everything was a blur until he skidded to a stop next to the railing and the two men, stunned silent, and realized Coffee Guy hadn’t just gone over.

He’d gone through .

There was a small hole in the thinning ice, the area of impact. He seemed to have hit on a thinner part by the shore, just right. He was nowhere to be seen under the frozen water.

Wei Ying hesitated for just one moment, not to think about what he was about to do but to wait and see if the man resurfaced. When he didn’t, Wei Ying didn’t hesitate again.

He jumped over the railing and landed feet first into the frozen water.

The cold was a harsh shock to his system, so frigid it froze his limbs, paralyzing him for a moment. And then the adrenaline kickstarted him back into motion, survival instincts guiding him more than conscious thought. Wei Ying forced his eyes open and saw him immediately through the stinging, a pale hand and the ends of a white scarf. Wei Ying kicked frantically toward him, grabbing onto his wrist and yanking him up as hard as he could.

Wei Ying couldn’t feel his body, couldn’t feel his lungs. It was so cold under the water that he might not have even known if he was alive without the pounding of his heart, the only thing keeping him sane and alive.

He swam up—and hit ice.

The panic was as cold as the water, frantic desperation and a flurry of terror that send all common sense out the window. Wei Ying frantically yanked the unconscious Coffee Guy behind him, desperately pounding his fists on the ice above them, frantically searching for a break or a rush of air, some relief from the cold that burned him worse than flame.

Wei Ying realized, in the midst of his panic, that this might be how he died. 

The panic increased tenfold. Wei Ying choked back the instinct to scream, even as his lung cried for air and his limbs were so cold he felt weightless and on fire all at once. He just kept swimming, frantically scrambling for a crack, for the hole that they made when they went over the side.

His head was spinning. His chest was on fire. He was fairly certain his knuckles were bleeding, smudges of red washing away in the slosh of waves as he desperately reached—

His hand touched open air.

He broke through the surface desperately, gasping and choking on freezing cold air and shivering uncontrollably as he hauled himself and Coffee Guy out of the water, sending them sprawling on the unreliable ice, already cracking under their weight. He heard people yelling from the streets above them but he couldn’t make out what they were saying, couldn’t make sense of the shape of words between the rush of his heartbeat in his ears and the cracking of his chattering teeth.

He reached for Coffee Guy, frantically turned him on his side. Water poured out of his mouth and, as Wei Ying was trying to remember if he knew CPR, Coffee Guy suddenly came to life, coughing and vomiting up water in alarming amounts. Wei Ying gripped onto him with all the strength he had left, trying to make sure he didn’t roll onto his back and start choking.

After his third retch, Coffee Guy blinked up at him. His gaze was unfocused, foggy and unclear, awareness dimming as he lost consciousness slowly and surely. Wei Ying offered him a reassuring smile, which probably didn’t look very reassuring when his teeth were chattering and he couldn’t stop shivering, freezing chill and excess adrenaline.

“Hi,” Wei Ying breathed.

Coffee Guy stared at him blankly. And then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he lost consciousness.

Chapter Text

They managed to wrangle Wei Ying into a pair of dry scrubs and a shock blanket tucked tightly around his shoulders. He’d thrown his hair up into a messy bun at the top of his head and had so far done his absolute best to avoid being poked and prodded by too many doctors, dogging Coffee Guy as best as he could from the ambulance into the emergency room. He hadn’t woken up even once on the trip over but he was still alive, breathing a little rattled and labored but still breathing.

They pushed Coffee Guy through one of the doors at the end of the room. Wei Ying, naturally, made a move to follow him.

Immediately, there were hands on his shoulders, keeping him from continuing. A male nurse scowled at him and said, “Family only.”

“I saved him,” Wei Ying tried to explain through an achy throat and residual shaking. He moved to walk around the nurse but instead his hold only tightened, using his momentum to swing him around and send him walking back toward the heart of the emergency room.

“Family only, buddy,” the nurse informed him with a little too much smugness, gesturing toward the crisscrossing hallways. “Get checked out for frostbite and pneumonia and check back later.”

Before Wei Ying could argue, the nurse was walking away as if Wei Ying had never even existed. He scowled at the guy’s back, clenching his dumb orange shock blanket a little tighter around him as he gazed toward the doors the man had disappeared through.

“Ugh,” he said to himself, in the middle of the hustle and bustle. “And I was gonna marry him.”

If he had been paying attention, he might have noticed the pity on the face of a nurse at the nurse’s station, might have seen her chew on her lip in thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Less than an hour later, after stiff hospital socks had been acquired and he had been assigned a hospital bed in the middle of a damn hallway, a pretty nurse with a heart-shaped face scurried into over, gesturing for him to follow her. The day had already been weird enough, a strange ache in his chest at every dip of silence, a deep ache for a family no longer his emergency contact—so it didn’t take much to coax him up, following curiously at her heels.

She led him down the hallway and onto the elevator without explanation, bringing him up to the fifth floor. The doors opened to an identical linoleum and beige hallway but she seemed to know where she was going, wordlessly leading him to the left, and then to the right.

She stopped at an open doorway and patted his arm. “There you go,” she said, gesturing for him to enter.

Wei Ying’s entire body felt sluggish but he had figured it out along the way. He barely had the presence of mind to thank her as he rushed into the door, leaving her hovering just beyond the door frame.

Coffee Guy was lying on the bed on his back; he looked like he could be sleeping. His hair was still a little damp, brushed back from pale skin, eyelashes against the soft bruises under his eyes. He was breathing on his own and the monitor next to him beeped with every heartbeat but he was otherwise so still, a little unnatural and a little peaceful.

He still managed to look good in a hospital gown. Wei Ying was almost a little jealous.

“Is he going to be okay?” he asked the nurse helplessly, suddenly unsure of what to do. Wei Ying couldn’t even remember the last time he was in a hospital, didn’t know what the etiquette was when one saves a cute regular at his coffee shop from a tragic demise.

The nurse, whose name badge read MianMian, offered him a reassuring smile. “I’m not sure, but he’s in critical care. You managed to save him before it was too late. You’re quite the hero.”

Wei Ying… did not know how to feel about that.

A part of him wanted to tell her that what he did wasn’t heroic. It was a lot reckless and perhaps a little suicidal but it hadn’t been a conscious choice born out of a real decision. He’d seen trouble and danger and his very first instinct was to jump into it without a singular consideration for his own wellbeing. He knew, if he was still in contact with them, his brother would yell himself hoarse over how he could have gotten hurt, how he could have died.

Wei Ying had heard hundreds of stories about heroes, the extraordinary and the everyday. He didn’t think he was one of those, didn’t think what he did counted.

He didn’t bother saying it out loud, to this poor nurse who was doing something incredibly nice by allowing him to be here. He hovered awkwardly at Coffee Guy’s bedside, feeling like he should say something even though it wasn’t like the guy would be able to hear him.

Maybe being here was a mistake. Saving the man was not but being here, in this space, when this man was unconscious and unwell and barely more than a stranger without a name, Wei Ying felt like he was trying to sew the edges of reality and daydream together.

It had been a long day. He was tired and cold and raw and he did not feel like a hero.

He just wanted to go home and hug his cat. Put on some comfy pajamas and sip some soup and sleep until his head stopped hurting and his hands stopped trembling like the adrenaline was unwilling to leave his veins.

Wei Ying had decided that was exactly what he was going to do when he heard a sudden clamor of sound down the hallway, a cacophony of voices and footfalls like they were running. Wei Ying frowned, moved curiously back toward the door—

Only to find his way suddenly blocked by the appearance of a looming, muscular man.

The man was his age, perhaps a little older, and he didn't even seem to notice Wei Ying, his eyes landing immediately on the man on the bed. He went suddenly, horribly pale, eyes wide and lips parted as if he wanted to ask a question.

And then he shouted, “Over here!”

The man flew toward the bedside, hovering next to Coffee Guy helplessly, hands outstretched like he wanted to touch him but wasn’t sure if he was allowed. Within seconds, there was another man in the doorway, older, a goatee and a three-piece suit. He shot toward the bed, followed closely on his heels by three more men, younger and frenzied. One of them saw Coffee Guy on the bed and let out a choked, strangled noise.

“Oh my god,” the teenager said. “Is he dead? He looks dead.”

“He isn’t dead,” the goatee man snapped back with ferocity, hands curled tight on Coffee Guy’s arm as if he might attempt to shake him awake. “Lan Jingyi, you hold your horrible tongue!”

“He definitely looks a little dead,” one of the other young men replied cautiously, inching forward so he could reach out and shake Coffee Guy’s ankle. “Why isn’t he waking up?”

“Huaisang,” the giant man snapped, “what the hell do you think coma means?”

“Has anyone heard from Wangji?” the goatee man yelled over them as they two started bickering, the smaller man tearing up. One of the teenagers shook his head.

“He didn’t answer, but I left a message. He’ll see it soon.”

The goatee man made an unhappy noise. His eyes scanned the room, not even noticing Wei Ying standing frozen and bewildered in the corner. He spotted MianMian in the doorway and snapped, “Do you know what’s happening? Where is the doctor?”

MianMian jumped, but before she could sweep out of the room in search of a doctor, a very familiar form glided in. Wei Ying winced out of habit.

He should not be here. But now, with Wen Qing’s incredulous gaze narrowing into a glare as she stared at him, Wei Ying knew for certain that he should not have followed that sweet nurse to this room.

Before either she could yell at him or Wei Ying could take off at a wobbly sprint, the goatee man spotted Wen Qing and was in front of her, arms raised as if he didn’t know whether to wave them around violently or plead with her.

“What happened to my nephew?” he demanded before she could even get a word in. He stabbed his index finger toward the bed. “He is a good boy—who did this to him? Why is he in a coma?”

“Sir,” Wen Qing tried to say, but she was interrupted by the bulky man rounding on her as well, still horribly pale as if he had seen a ghost.

“Is he okay? Is he going to be okay?”

The loud-mouth teen demanded in earnest, “Doctor, is he dying? Be honest. We can take it.”

“Everyone, quiet!” Wen Qing snapped in the way that only she could, commanding the room in just the hint of fiery temper and incredible confidence, a strong woman who will never go unheard. The men surrounding her immediately shrunk back in surprise, struck silent.

Wei Ying really admired Wen Qing. He did not, however, like that she did not move from the doorway, therefore very purposefully trapping him in with the rest of the chaos. He stayed put, hoping if he stayed incredibly still that no one would notice him standing in the corner, standing out like a sore thumb.

Wen Qing paused to make sure all eyes were on her before she began speaking again. “Your nephew is in a coma following head injury and drowning. He is in stable condition and is likely to recover on his own, but we must give his body and mind time to heal. We are monitoring his progress carefully but it’s too soon to say how long it will take for him to wake.”

The bulky man sunk down into a chair next to the bed as if his legs couldn’t hold him anymore, hand coming up to massage his forehead. The quieter teenager started tapping anxiously at the screen of his phone, as if taking dictation. The goatee man looked half a second from passing out.

Wen Qing checked her chart. “Lan Qiren, I assume.”

The goatee man nodded once. Wen Qing nodded back, making an effort to soften the tension of her brow.

“We’re doing what we can.”

“I understand,” Lan Qiren said through his teeth, and then asked, “Do we know what happened to him?”

Wei Ying had absolutely no idea what came over him—whether he had simply abandoned all survival instincts or if the distress in the room had finally gotten to his head, tugging on his already-weakened consciousness and bleeding heart—but he opened his big mouth and said, “He was pushed through the ice.”

The whole room went silent. Every eye snapped to him, strangers and a murderous friend alike. They all stared at him for a moment, finally noticing him in the corner, patient scrubs and three pairs of socks and hair that was probably matted and wild.

Wen Qing narrowed her eyes at him but it was Lan Qiren who snapped, “Excuse me?”

Wei Ying should have just taken off at a sprint. His brain was moving too slow and he was very tired, which only proved to loosen his tongue because he immediately offered, “There was some kind of argument across the street and he tried to break it up, and then one of the men pushed him a little too hard. He fell into the canal.”

The bulky guy looked positively murderous. “He was pushed?”

“Who pushed him?” Lan Qiren turned toward Wen Qing and MianMian. “Why am I only just hearing about this?”

Wen Qing replied dryly, “Sir, this is a hospital.”

The loud-mouth teenager, Lan Jingyi, was currently making wailing noises. “What kind of monster would do this? Yeah, Lan Xichen’s a lawyer, but he’s not a bad guy! I would definitely hesitate to kill him in the class war.”

The ankle-shaker covered his mouth with his hand and snorted. The other teenager just kept typing faster on his phone, as if distressed.

Lan Qiren forgot about Wei Ying for just one second when he looked over his shoulder and snapped, “Lan Jingyi.”

“He was pushed?” the giant man thundered again, hands curling into fists. His eyes narrowed on Wei Ying, who nearly wet himself on the spot and barely managed to keep from cowering in terror.

Before anyone else could begin shouting, the ankle-shaker waved his hands maniacally to command attention. He was staring straight at Wei Ying, head tilted curiously, calm in the face of chaos like only someone who was bone-deep accustomed to it could ever be. The young man who’d been called Huaisang took the opportunity of the silence and demanded, “Who are you?”

And because the world already made no goddamn sense, the nurse MianMian was the one who responded, confused, “He’s the fiancé!”

Dead silence.

Lan Qiren yelled, “The what?”

“Lan Xichen is getting married?” Lan Jingyi demanded, shrill. “To him? No freaking way!”

“Uh oh,” the quieter teenager murmured, and then looked at Huaisang, who was already looking at the bulky man.

“Da-ge.”

The man turned his glare onto his brother, who flinched back and didn’t dare say anything more.

Meanwhile, Lan Qiren rounded on Wei Ying. For a man with a goatee in this economy, he sure was rather terrifying as he snapped, “Who are you? What’s your family name?”

Wen Qing, who knew well that the only romantic action Wei Ying was experiencing was with his right hand, stared him down over the man’s shoulder, gaze promising a death so swift and absolute that the authorities would never find his body. 

Wei Ying didn’t know who to be more frightened of. He deliriously eyed the window on the far wall, wondering if running would give him enough momentum to launch himself through it.

His mouth was dry and his head hurt. He finally managed to croak out among the chaos, “I saved him.”

The room shifted. Like a great exhale.

Something on Lan Qiren’s face softened like air being let out of a balloon. The scary man’s glare—didn’t necessarily soften from trying to extinguish his life force but it definitely shifted into something more considering, measuring Wei Ying up and seeming to find him lacking. 

The quiet teenager finally stepped forward, standing like a buffer between Wei Ying and this incredibly unpredictable family. He offered him a soft smile and said, “My family can be a bit… overwhelming, and this situation hasn’t helped. We don’t even know your name yet, do we?”

A part of Wei Ying wanted to start laughing, an unconscious reaction perhaps tinged with a little bit of hysteria. It was all happening so fast, one thing after another, everything going sideways at all times. Wei Ying’s life used to be this same sort of chaos; he hadn’t realized how monotonous his life had become, how much he’d been keeping his head down.

“Wei Ying,” he managed to introduce himself.

“Lan Sizhui,” the boy introduced, and then pointed out everyone as he named them. “Lan Qiren, Lan Jingyi, Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue.”

Lan Jingyi shoved him out of the way to thunder up to Wei Ying. “So you dove under the ice to save him? Whoa, dude. That’s peak romance.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

Nie Mingjue cleared his throat and grated out, “Well, we’re grateful. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t.”

“Brave,” Lan Qiren reluctantly agreed, and then as if he couldn’t resist, added, “Foolish, but brave. Thank you for saving my nephew’s life.”

Wei Ying had never felt very comfortable with being congratulated, even if he had done something worth recognition. It always sat funky in his stomach, like he’d chugged a gallon of spoiled milk. He opened his mouth to brush it all away, to laugh it off, to say that it was nothing—

A man burst into the room, and the world as Wei Ying knew it ground to a halt.

He was—gorgeous. That was the first thing he noticed, tall and wide and flawless, otherworldly. Elegant, regal, the matching pair to the man on the bed. He could only be one person, had to Lan Xichen’s brother, but logic took a moment to catch up as Wei Ying’s breath caught. As his eyes met this man’s in the space between heartbeats, a small part of him relaxed, unwound. As if he’d been holding his breath for years.

For a moment, he forgot where he was. The man stared back, blinked slowly. As if this man had walked into the chaos of the room but the only thing he saw was Wei Ying. As if the only thing that made sense was Wei Ying.

The man’s eyes flickered up and down. A shiver went up Wei Ying’s spine as he realized this guy was checking him out.

Just as fast, the spell broke. There was only so long time could stop and it rushed back to Wei Ying all at once as Lan Sizhui cried out, relieved, “Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan’s eyes darted around the room, reading every face. And then his eyes finally narrowed in on the bed to his brother, lifelessly alive, and terror flashed across his face. The others moved away as Lan Zhan rushed toward the bed, all but Nie Mingjue, who hadn’t once moved from his spot as if he didn’t know where else to go.

Lan Zhan reached out and put his hand on Lan Xichen’s shoulder, seemingly speechless. He looked up and his gold eyes were biting, a frantic edge to the worry in his voice when he snapped, “What happened?”

Lan Sizhui hurried to explain it to him as quickly as possible. Lan Zhan listened with undivided attention, face serious but little flashes of expression revealing his thoughts on his face, subtle and unreadable but Wei Ying could not look away. Even in devastation and wrapped in worry, he was the most beautiful man Wei Ying had ever seen, skin pale jade and inky black hair and golden eyes he would like to drown in.

Lan Sizhui finished filling him in and even more emotions danced across his face, shadows of things Wei Ying didn’t know how to identify. Lan Zhan stared incredulously at Lan Sizhui, and then down at his brother. His hand was gripping his shoulder hard enough that his knuckles were whitening; Lan Zhan relaxed his grip, removed his hand and fisted it at his side instead.

“Unbelievable,” Lan Zhan remarked, but mostly he just sounded tired. He looked back to Sizhui. “Who saved him?”

Lan Sizhui gestured toward Wei Ying. Lan Zhan turned those eyes on him again, suffocatingly intense with grief and surprise twisting into gratitude. Something subtle softened on his face, something around his mouth. Lan Zhan looked like he was about to say something when Lan Jingyi piped up excitedly, “Lan Zhan! When were you going to tell us Lan Xichen was getting married?”

Lan Zhan’s head immediately whipped around. He opened his mouth, closed it.

“Married?” he finally demanded, stunned. His eyes flickered to Nie Mingjue and away just as quickly, narrowing on Lan Jingyi. “To Meng Yao?”

“Ew, no,” Lan Jingyi replied, offended. “To Wei Ying!”

Lan Zhan stared. “Who is Wei Ying?”

“You didn’t know?” Nie Huaisang demanded, and then turned to Lan Jingyi. “Wow, he didn’t know.”

“He didn’t know,” Lan Jingyi echoed, and then nervously laughed. “Haha… surprise?”

Helplessly, Lan Sizhui gestured toward Wei Ying in the corner.

Lan Zhan stared at him, face closed off but almost a little… disappointed. Wei Ying knew he wasn’t actually marrying Lan Xichen but he couldn’t help but be a little offended. Lan Zhan’s mouth twisted down into a frown.

Wei Ying knew this was the part where he was expected to explain, where he was supposed to either lie or tell the truth. No matter what, he knew this was the beginning of the end, that he would tell this family a story and then he would walk out of that room never to return, an odd ghost in a blip of their family history. A little part of him ached, the loneliness he buried down deep until it only emerged to numb him in the bad, harsh moments.

This was steadily becoming one of them. Wei Ying would walk out of this room and he would never see this weird little family again. He would avoid Coffee Guy for the rest of his life and fall back into the monotony of a world that was simple and easy. He would go back to dreaming, trying his hardest to forget the time he tried to be a hero.

Wei Ying was tired and raw and he just wanted to lie down. He hadn’t known what story to tell yet but he still opened his mouth, and perhaps that's why he said instead, “Listen. I’m exhausted and achy and I just kinda wanna go home. I think I’m getting the flu and it’s been a really long day. I really don’t think I can answer more questions right now.”

Lan Zhan’s frown deepened. Lan Qiren stepped forward and Wei Ying’s entire life flashed before his eyes.

The older man paused for a moment and then sighed in defeat. “We are likely still having our annual Christmas dinner tomorrow. You are… welcome to attend. If Lan Xichen is going to be in a relationship, it will not be a secret.”

Wei Ying blinked, stunned. “I couldn’t—”

“Nonsense,” Lan Zhan said. He was still scowling, eyes on Wei Ying as if he was a puzzle to solve, as if he were desperately trying to figure out what his brother saw in him. “You saved him. You would have been invited no matter what.”

And boy if that wasn’t a little discouraging. Wei Ying could tell by the looks on their faces that they weren’t going to let him go without an agreement, so he did his best to keep his screaming internal and sacrificed a small smile. “Sure, okay. Sounds great.”

Lan Sizhui searched for a piece of paper to scribble a phone number, as Wei Ying’s cell phone was either behind the counter of the coffee shop or at the bottom of a frozen lake. Lan Zhan migrated back to the side of his brother’s bed, fingers on the side bars but his eyes on Wei Ying. Wei Ying made a point of ignoring him, tucking the paper with the phone number into one of the pockets of the hospital scrubs.

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan told him before he could leave, voice softer and kinder, “for saving my brother. I owe you a great debt.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Wei Ying replied, offering him a tired smile. “It was the only thing to do.”

“No,” Lan Zhan said, solemn and serious. “It wasn’t. Thank you.”

Wei Ying didn’t know what to say so he just smiled again, offering the family a weak wave as he dodged his way out of the door without another word. He felt the threatening energy of Wen Qing shift to go after him, only to be stopped by Lan Zhan quietly asking to speak with her. Wei Ying sent up a quick prayer of gratitude for any god possibly listening.

He didn’t stop moving until he was crashing back down onto his hallway cot, staring up at the paneled ceiling. He put his hands over his eyes and pushed down a scream, rumbling into a tired groan.

Wei Ying had always been known for getting himself into messes, and this only seemed like one of those times. The problem was he’d definitely never gotten himself fake engaged to a stranger before and announced it to said stranger’s family while he was in a coma.

If hell was a place, Wei Ying sure looked forward to his first class ticket.

Oh well. It wasn’t like he was ever going to see those people again. Especially not Coffee Guy’s incredibly attractive brother. It’s not like his cheekbones were that hauntingly gorgeous. Wei Ying could find other nice cheekbones to look at. Better cheekbones.

He ignored the paper burning a hole in his pocket. Turned his helpless gaze up to the ceiling.

“Merry freaking Christmas,” he muttered, incredibly ready for this day to be over.

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan did not believe that man for a second.

He knew his brother better than most. Lan Xichen had been all he had in their early years, when their mother died and their father succumbed to grief that only proved to kill him. He and his brother had naturally grown a little apart but not that badly, not enough for a secret fiancé to a man that was so incredibly not Lan Xichen’s type. 

He might have believed it six months ago, when his brother was upset from all of the parting drama from his last partner, a man who wore too many hats and was never liked by the family. Even then, Lan Zhan had wondered if that was going to be the awakening, the moment his brother opened his eyes and realized Nie Mingjue had been in love with him since they were children.

Alas. Nevertheless, Lan Zhan was… far from convinced.

“He seemed nice,” Sizhui murmured as they sat around Lan Xichen’s room, no one knowing what to do or where to put their hands. Lan Zhan glanced over and found him perched at one of the windows, gazing at him in particular. “Right?”

“He likes our sweet cousin enough to dive into a freezing cold canal,” Lan Jingyi reminded them as if they could ever forget, enamored with the love story. 

“That was admirable,” Nie Mingjue reluctantly agreed. “Foolish.”

“Definitely foolish,” Lan Qiren echoed, lips pursed together as he thought. His uncle looked across the bed at him, where Lan Zhan had claimed a chair and had yet to say much of anything since. “Don’t you agree, Wangji?”

“I am hesitant to believe my brother might find him physically attractive,” Lan Zhan admitted.

Lan Jingyi let out a choking noise. “The poor guy just drowned—”

“Not what I meant,” Lan Zhan interrupted him before he could go on a tirade, as he was known to doing. “I simply meant… he does not seem like the type of person my brother has dated before.”

Nie Huaisang made a considering noise. “He does seem to have a type.”

“What is a type when there’s true love?” Lan Jingyi demanded, clearly personally insulted. “Maybe it’s just been a long day and you’re not sure what to do with that.”

“For once, I agree,” Lan Qiren said as though it physically pained him, practically forcing it out between clenched teeth. He gave Lan Zhan a meaningful look over Lan Xichen’s prone form. “You will have more time to speak to him at the dinner. I’m sure he will be forthcoming with information.”

“I definitely do not have a thousand questions,” Lan Jingyi agreed. He glanced toward the bed and sighed. “Not that Christmas is going to be the same, anyway. At least Meng Yao isn’t going to be there.”

“We agreed to never speak that name again,” Nie Huaisang reminded him in a stage-whisper with a not-so-subtle nod toward Nie Mingjue’s back. Lan Jingyi’s eyes widened before he nodded sagely.

“And anyway,” Lan Sizhui said, giving Lan Jingyi a significant look, “he can make his own decisions. And if Wei Ying is one of them, then that’s that, isn't it?”

“A grown man,” Nie Huaisang agreed, casting his own brother a side-long look. “Ah, yes. Men certainly make the best decisions.”

Nie Mingjue ignored him, watching the heart monitors with single-minded intensity. Lan Zhan was fairly sure Nie Mingjue didn’t know what most of the machines do, as he certainly didn’t, but he still watched them as if waiting for an abnormality. As if waiting for that one little blip of Lan Xichen’s heartbeat that meant he was waking up.

Lan Zhan glanced back toward his brother, pale but peaceful and still in the uncomfortable little bed. He swallowed down the anxiety that spiked through his chest, trying to render him immobile. He did not want to be upset in front of his family, in this already stressful situation, where he knew all of them were staring at him to see if he was okay.

He couldn’t think of the enormousness of the situation right now. He couldn’t think about his brother drowning in a frozen pond. He could not think about what would have happened if that man, that Wei Ying, had not been reckless and dove in after him.

Perhaps he did owe him at least the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps, at least, Lan Zhan could do him the honor of not disliking him for things he could not control, like the way Lan Zhan’s heart jumped when he saw him. When he saw the haze of his smile and felt the earth move beneath his feet. When he saw that man and thought, for one sudden second, Where have you been?

He swallowed it back. Shoved it down, down, as far as it could go. Put it in a box and then buried it in soil that would freeze over in the night.

Lan Zhan could not think about that, knowing what he knows. He should not be suspicious of this man, owing him what he owed him.

But if he did a little bit of research? Well. His family certainly couldn’t fault him for being curious.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Wen Ning found him lying in the back storeroom of the coffee shop after closing time, on his back and staring up at the paneled ceiling. He clearly hadn’t heard Wei Ying come in because he yelled and jumped back; however, Wei Ying spoke before Wen Ning could seemingly even recover from the shock.

“Wen Ning,” he moaned, “I’ve done a dumb thing.”

Wen Ning set down the broom he had, for a split second, been wielding like a weapon and sat down beside Wei Ying slowly, frowning. “I’m glad you recognize that drowning yourself was a little dumb.”

“What? No. Not that.”

Wen Ning rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. His lips moved like he might be praying.

Wei Ying reached out and wrapped his hand around Wen Ning’s ankle. “Wen Ning. Oh, Wen Ning. They think I’m getting married.”

“Who?” Wen Ning demanded, and then, louder, “Wait, married?”

“To Lan Xichen.”

“Who? Oh, no, is that the Coma Guy?”

“It feels rude to give him a new nickname.”

“You nearly died. I feel justified.”

Wei Ying felt like light was a little too much at the moment but he still cracked his eyes open to squint up at his best friend. “I forget how petty you are sometimes. I would really like to see more of that.”

Wen Ning hit his arm, albeit softly. “Wei Ying. Start from the beginning.”

He sighed heavily, kicking his feet a little just to convey how dire the situation was. “It’s very dumb, Wen Ning. You’ll have to promise not to judge me. A lot of idiotic things happened today.”

“I saw half of them,” his friend reminded him, and then hit him again.

So, Wei Ying told him, aching and a little raspy. He told Wen Ning everything, even the parts he’d seen—diving over the counter, throwing himself into the river, all of the chaos that followed in the hospital room. Wen Ning didn’t interrupt him once even though it looked like he wanted to—but, to be fair, it looked a little more like Wen Ning wanted to shake him hard but had to remind himself that he was an incredibly fragile baby bird at the moment, fresh out of a head injury and heroics that was pretty much only one degree of separation from suicidal.

Wen Ning listened through it all, especially when it came to what happened at the hospital. At one point he even put his hand over his mouth as if he was trying to hide his reaction but Wei Ying could tell he was mouthing how much of an idiot he was.

When he mentioned the dinner party, Wen Ning’s other hand came up to cover the rest of his face.

“Tell me you refused,” he groaned, but clearly (rightfully) didn’t believe in him because he immediately added, “Oh, no, Wei Ying…”

Wei Ying flailed around a little more. “I didn’t think.”

“What a mess. I thought it was already a mess but then you…”

“Yeah.”

Wen Ning sighed. “I’m still very upset you nearly died. I want to make sure you know that.”

“I do dumb things sometimes.”

“Incredibly dumb,” Wen Ning agreed, and then slumped to lie down next to him. “But really, really brave. Wei Ying, you’re a very good person.”

Wei Ying snorted. He had been called many things in his life, mostly things about charm and mischief and selfishness, but he didn’t think he’d even been called a good person. Coming from Wen Ning, a sweet boy who was definitely an actual good person who gave all his leftover food to the homeless and once cried over a stray cat that walked past them on the street, it was almost comical.

He nudged his friend with his foot. “Hey, enough of that. I can never show my face around those people again, you can’t just praise me like that.”

Wen Ning nudged him back. “You didn’t mention how you got here, on my floor, with—are those hospital booties? Wei Ying.”

“I walked.”

“Wei Ying! You could have gotten a cab, I would’ve paid!”

“Too many thoughts,” he replied, and then pointed across the room at a lump on the floor. “My clothes are over there, anyway. They’re just wet and I’ve already narrowly escaped hypothermia.”

Wen Ning shook his head incredulously, letting his weight slump against the floor. He breathed out heavily through his nose, staring imploringly toward the fluorescent lights. “With all due respect, I truly do not understand how you live like this.”

“That isn’t the first time someone’s told me that,” Wei Ying informed him, even though he was a little offended.

He did not get the chance to further argue his way of life before the door slammed open and Wen Qing was preceded by her echoing voice snapping, “Wei Ying, I know you are in there, you moron!”

“You’ve done it now,” Wen Ning informed him sadly as Wen Qing stormed into the room, still mostly in scrubs but for a heavy down jacket and scarf wrapped tightly around her neck; she spotted Wei Ying sprawled on the floor and violently started unwrapping the scarf as if she might decide to hang him with it.

Wei Ying yelped, scrambling across the floor away from her. “I can explain! Well, a little.”

“Engaged?” she snapped, eyes narrowed on him like she might like to break him in half. “Wei Ying, I know for a fact that you are painfully single—what game are you playing? That man is in a coma.”

“I might have panicked,” he replied, and then let out a strangled scream when she took a threatening step forward. “Wait, mercy, mercy! Wen Qing, I swear I didn’t do it on purpose, I have no idea how that nurse even thought we were engaged. But then everyone stopped looking like they were gonna yell at me, and I had to make sure the guy was okay—”

Wen Qing was already massaging her temples as if attempting to stave off an inevitable headache. She squinted down at Wei Ying, who hadn’t yet dignified himself by standing up from the actual floor, and she demanded, definitely irritated and maybe a little sad if he took the time to think about it, “What are you going to do?”

Wei Ying wasn’t an idiot. As strange and chaotic and silly as he seemed, he knew the many ways in which life didn’t work in his favor. He’d lived through many unpredictable, awful things and he’d never felt the need to search for pity, to look for anything more than the way forward. He was not afraid to struggle, was not afraid of the things he could not control; Wei Ying had been through things that made him feel as though he had grown up too fast and he could not bring himself to be worried about a miscommunication, could not allow himself to be upset with splitting from a vacant impossibility of a man so far out of his league that he was practically in outer space.

Wei Ying was not an idiot, so he said,  “I’m going to disappear.”

Okay, so maybe he was a little bit of an idiot. So sue him. Wei Ying knew the difference between reality and imagination, even though he projected his imagination a little more into reality than he might have wanted. It didn’t mean he didn’t know the difference—it didn’t mean he didn’t know the places where he didn’t belong and where he did. He knew his boundaries and he knew well that he had crossed them. Wei Ying knew there was a difference between inviting himself into a space and breaking down all of the walls with a battering ram.

A fiancé. Gods above. As if anyone on this plane of existence would ever bother marrying him.

“Don’t worry,” he said to the Wen siblings as if his own chest didn’t ache, as if he didn’t remember golden eyes and wonder what if . He swallowed down that wonder, beat back that dream that did not belong to him, and choked out, “I know it’s not real. If I disappear now, it’ll just be a breakup—and when Lan Xichen doesn’t remember me, it’ll be a write-off. With everything going on, they might not even remember me in a few weeks. A weird thing that happened on the worst week of their lives. They’ll be so relieved that things worked out that they won’t even remember I existed, and it’ll all work out.”

Wen Qing’s lips thinned in a way that meant she was not at all pleased. Wei Ying smiled because that was the thing he did best, acting like everything was okay even though he wasn’t sure at all what it was.

“It’ll be a blip,” he explained to her. “A convenient mistake.”

“People aren’t convenient mistakes,” she replied, affronted. She massaged her temples again. “Wei Ying, this isn’t small. You just told an entire family that you’re going to marry their family member. What the hell are you going to do if one of them figures it out?”

“Who is going to care enough to look?” he demanded with a huff. “Let them forget. It’s for the best anyway, wouldn’t you say?”

“One day, I will put you in the hospital myself,” Wen Qing promised him. She breathed heavily out of her nose, squinting at him as if she wished one single look would wipe him off the face of the earth. She demanded, “Why bother, then?”

It was a good question. The best Wei Ying answered was, “Why not?”

Wen Qing had known him for a long time now. She had known him at some of his most desperate, had seen him beg Wen Ning for a job and had allowed him to sleep on their living room couch, a lot pathetic and even more desperate. The Wen siblings had let him into their lives when he was at his worst, when he had been homeless and starving. Wen Qing had seen him at his lowest point and had never judged him, had never hated him—it wasn’t judgment that narrowed her gaze, wasn’t even disgust.

She would never admit it but she was worried. Wei Ying had done dumb and questionable things but even then she would only stare at him, would only purse her lips and know he understood. Wen Qing was bossy and sometimes she was even mean but she always let Wei Ying make his own mistakes, always refused to step in and guide his life in the direction she believed it deserved to go in.

Wen Qing stared at him for one beat, two. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling just like her brother had, as if Wei Ying was far from saving. He kept smiling like it didn’t bother him at least a little bit.

“Fine,” she ground out. “But make sure you can live with the choice you make.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Wei Ying assured them as if they didn’t know him best. The Wen siblings turned and looked at each other, sharing a significant look. He flailed his legs insolently, drawing their attention back to him. “I do!”

“Mhm,” Wen Qing replied. She exchanged one more look with her brother before turning her eyes on Wei Ying again, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, good luck. It seems like you need it, if you’re going to be leaping into frozen lakes when we turn our backs. Just remember to keep an eye on your headache and call me if you need to. I mean it. The hospital can’t handle two pretty boys in comas, our quota is up.”

“Awww, Wen Qing! You think I’m pretty!”

“I hate you,” she replied, already walking out of the room. “Christmas dinner’s at six tomorrow, if you’re coming.”

And then she was gone, blowing in like a storm and out like the apocalypse was on her heels. Wei Ying huffed and pushed himself back upright, holding out his hands when the static in his head threatened to bowl him over. He blinked his eyes back open slowly, shooting Wen Ning a reassuring grin.

“That wasn’t too bad,” he said. “At least I’m not bleeding.”

“Are you coming to our dinner?” Wen Ning countered, because he knew Wei Ying a little too well and was far too polite to him to say what he really wanted to say. Wei Ying scuttled off toward where he’d discarded his clear hospital bag of belongings, pretending to look very busy to avoid the very concerned turn of his friend’s mouth.

“Maybe,” he replied, and then shrugged. “The more I think about it, the more I might just stay home, you know? My head hurts and I want to eat an entire cake and snuggle my cat. Not to mention the television content, Wen Ning. Do you know they play Die Hard on repeat on some channels? Revolutionary.”

Wen Ning didn’t look incredibly pleased with the answer, but it wasn’t like Wei Ying had expected him to be. He knew his friend worried about him, probably more than Wei Ying even worried about himself. Wen Ning was a genuinely kind person and if there was one thing that made Wei Ying antsy, it was kindness.

Still, Wen Ning sighed and nodded as though resigned. “Please call us if you need us. You know we don’t mind.”

He knew—he’d just never ask the Wens for anything else after all that they had already done for him, could not fathom demanding more when they had already given him more than he’d thought he would ever have again. He knew better by now than to try to force his way into a place that did not have room for him.

Wei Ying slapped on a grin and saluted him. “Promise!”

Wen Ning didn’t much look like he believed him. Wei Ying tried not to be too offended.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Wei Ying had a complicated relationship with the concept of home.

Home had recently become his little one bedroom apartment on the second floor of a building that looked worse from the outside. It was the first apartment he had ever had on his own, cheap and small though it was, and he was pretty proud of it. It was an improvement from Wen Ning’s living room and it stayed pretty warm in the winter, which wasn’t too bad. It didn’t have much of a view but the roof didn’t leak and he had never seen a single rat, but that could be because of his cat more than the quality of the walls.

Nevertheless, Wei Ying had learned how to make a home for himself, finding furniture for cheap or free and making it work even when the bills ran too high. He decorated sometimes, too—streamers and pumpkins for his birthday-slash-Halloween, a lopsided tree and thrift store ornaments for Christmas. It was a little lonely but Wei Ying had learned not to mind it so much, tried to find solace in the comfort of a warm bed and meals he could barely figure out how to make.

It always got worse around this time of year, though. Wen Qing had once accused him of decorating as a distraction; she’d apologized after she’d seen the look on his face, but it didn’t change that she’d been right.

Wei Ying had a decorated apartment in a beautiful city and he made it work. This new home did not erase the realization that it was the only one he had left.

It had been years now since he’d been disowned, since his siblings’ mother had decided enough was enough and threw him out onto the streets. He’d made just enough mistakes to understand why so he’d cut his ties and walked away with his head high, and he didn’t look them up online even though sometimes he wanted to. Wei Ying was an orphan who knew how to stop himself from looking over his shoulder.

It didn’t make the apartment any less quiet when he opened the door, kicking off his shoes and stomping away the snow. It didn’t change there being no one to come home to.

“It’s been a hell of a day,” he told his apartment anyway, stripping off his clothes haphazardly and launching himself onto the couch with his outer shirt caught around his right wrist. He buried his head in the cushion, muffling a yawn. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

There was a mewl, and then little paws against his back. He peeked over his shoulder and Chenqing stared back expectantly, glowing green eyes in a ball of adorable black fluff. He angled his arm back so he could give her scratches.

“Not right now,” he groaned when her claws started to dig into his back impatiently. “Food later, you cruel animal. Can’t you see I’m suffering? And what would you have done if I’d died, huh? Would you have bullied my ghost, too?”

Chenqing narrowed her eyes impatiently as if to say, obviously.

He groaned and wiggled his way off of the couch, stumbling his way toward the kitchen. He told the cat about his day as he filled her food bowl, telling her all about his heroics and how cool he is and how lucky she was to have him as her owner. She ignored him in favor of eating at mach speed but he didn’t mind, running his fingers through her fur. It was better than having no one to talk to at all, and she didn’t even try to bite him most of the time.

Eventually he ended up back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as he flipped the scrap paper with Lan Sizhui’s phone number scribbled across it, discovered hastily shoved into a back pocket. Chenqing walked across his chest and settled down in the perfect spot to slowly squeeze the life out of his already wounded lungs. He winced; the cat, as if sensing his discomfort, curled up a little tighter.

He glanced down at the paper and the careful way Sizhui had written the numbers even in a rush. He thought about Lan Xichen unconscious on the bed and the strange family he carried with him—like the brother with gold eyes and a pretty face, carved like a work of art in marble, and the way his eyes had followed Wei Ying around the room like he saw him.

Lan Zhan had looked right at him. A room full of chaos, and his eyes had caught on Wei Ying.

“I’m not going,” Wei Ying said. He crumpled the paper and tossed it across the room for emphasis—Chenqing lazily followed the curve of the paper through the air with her eyes, and then sleepily lowered her head back down onto his chest. “See? I don’t care. I don’t need them. I don’t even know them. They looked rich, anyway. I should’ve known. We don’t trust rich people in this house, Chenqing. We’re humble.”

Chenqing opened one eye, squinting up at him judgmentally. He wrinkled his nose and glared back.

“I’m not so lonely that I have to invade some random family. I have the Wens! It’s just Christmas, anyway. Capitalist greed. So what if it’s a holiday celebrating family? Sometimes a family can just be you and your cat. Isn’t that right, Chenqing? We don’t need a rich man. Even if he is really pretty. And he looks really strong.”

Chenqing started purring. Wei Ying thought it sounded a little like laughter.

“I’m not going to the dinner,” he announced loudly, as if the apartment might hold him to it. “Neither of them!”

The apartment was quiet. Chenqing continued to purr.

“I’m not!” he insisted.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying had definitely never been to this particular neighborhood.

The Jiangs had been rich, sure, but that had been a different kind of rich. They’d lived further out of town, where land was cheaper even when it was on a beautiful lake of lotuses. It was old family land, the kind that they didn’t have to pay for except in rich people taxes, and if it weren’t for his years bounced around foster homes Wei Ying might’ve thought it was a humble home. As he gaped up at the Lan estate—yes, estate—he began to realize just how far from his shitty one bedroom he really was.

Warning bells were ringing in his head. The house was huge and the family dressed like money and Wei Ying was wearing a pair of dirty Doc Martens, for gods’ sake. He was standing on the curb on Christmas Day gaping at a mansion like a yokel, holding a goddamn fruitcake. He was even five minutes early! 

Perhaps he should’ve checked to see if he had a fever. That was the only explanation he could possibly have for being so delusional.

Wei Ying turned and faced the street, and a part of him was almost surprised to find the taxicab was long out of sight. He looked one way, and then the other—not even a sign of the taillights. Well, it had been a while since he’d gotten a good run in. Maybe the cold air would make him run even faster.

Wei Ying was milliseconds from chucking the fruitcake into the bushes and taking a literal run for it when he heard his name called out behind him in a semi-familiar voice. He whirled around and found Lan Sizhui smiling at him patiently from the front porch, waving to get his attention. Wei Ying forced a grin and gathered his wits before heading up the front path.

“Wasn’t sure if I had the address right,” Wei Ying lied before the kid had the chance to ask. “What a big house! Very impressive. Very, ah…” He figured it wasn’t in his best interest to bring up how poor he was, no matter how polite the boy’s smile was. Wei Ying cleared his throat awkwardly and resisted the urge to start running after all. He shook the box in his hands. “I brought this. Figured I shouldn’t show up empty handed, ha!”

“How kind of you,” Lan Sizhui assured him without missing a beat, offering a kind smile. He waited as Wei Ying exchanged his shoes for spare house slippers, still gripping onto the fruitcake like a lifeline. Sizhui offered him another smile when he turned back around; Wei Ying figured he at least might not look as stricken he felt and even managed to smile back.

Sizhui led the way into the house, whose entryway could fit a few of Wei Ying’s whole apartments, and Wei Ying managed to choke out, “Nice house on the inside, too.”

“Thank you,” the most polite teenage boy he’d ever met replied. “It’s an old family home, passed down.”

No kidding. Wei Ying was fairly sure some of the decorations alone were worth more than his entire life, tapestries decorated in rich dyes of mountaintop peaks and crystal figurines in glass. There were painted fans on the walls next to papers that looked browned as if they were decades old; with the lavish decorations and the spotless rooms and the high ceilings, Wei Ying felt like they were in a museum instead of a home, sterile and impersonal. He couldn’t imagine growing up like this, where beautiful things were enclosed in glass as though they should only be preserved. He wondered if it was a little lonely, growing up in a place so cold.

He managed to keep his tragically poor mouth shut as Lan Sizhui led him through the practically gilded halls until they reached a set of double doors. Sizhui sent him one last smile as if in reassurance before he pushed them open, revealing the great dining room beyond.

Wei Ying blinked into the room. Felt his jaw drop just a little bit.

Yup, this had been a mistake.

The Lans were clearly a traditional people, the kind that cherish their history and can trace their bloodlines back before the damn dinosaurs. The Jiangs had been the proud kind of rich, old money that had long learned to appreciate where they came from and never wanted for anything, but never really felt the need to announce it to the room. 

The Lans, though. Oh what a bloodline they must be.

The hall somehow managed to be both simple and ostentatious, a demonstration of their superiority and a humble bow of their head. They had a long dining table that stretched the length of the room; it seemed to be made of one piece of wood, like an old high table of old that had been repurposed into something a little more practical, like sitting fifty people. There were actual candelabras, fine dishware with delicate patterns in blue, flowers and swirls. There was a chandelier above their heads, crystals refracting the light in soft rainbows that danced along the walls and ceiling. It was as if walking into the clouds, white lace place settings and light soft as if he’d stepped off the streets and into a heavenly place.

Beautiful and elegant and maybe a bit preposterous. No wonder this family was so strange and otherworldly. They grew up in a museum with paradise slapped into the middle like an afterthought. 

“He’s here!” a vaguely familiar voice stage-whispered, breaking his momentary awe. Wei Ying ripped his attention from the ceiling to find most of the Lan and Nie families staring at him from the other side of the table; Lan Jingyi seemed to be vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass, and he confirmed himself as the whispering voice when he cried out, much louder, “Hey, you’re here!”

“I am,” Wei Ying replied automatically, feeling a good bit of whiplash. Lan Sizhui led him the rest of the way into the room, entirely unphased at how lavish and extraordinary it was. Wei Ying truly could not understand rich people. 

Lan Jingyi hit Nie Huaisang’s arm, making the older boy wince. “Told you he’d come!”

“Ouch,” Nie Huaisang replied reproachfully and with a pout. He was ignored.

Lan Qiren made his way toward Wei Ying, eyeing the box in his hands as if it might be hiding a venomous, murderous little creature. He didn’t so much as smile as he greeted, “Welcome to our home. We’re… pleased you could attend.”

Wei Ying rarely felt things like awkwardness and embarrassment, but he was suddenly struck with a little bit of mortification when he realized that he was severely underdressed, his jeans sticking out among the pressed dress pants and button-up shirts. He swallowed down a wave of dismayed regret as he presented the box to Lan Qiren and quietly reminded himself to pretend to be less of a savage.

“I brought this,” he said, and immediately added because he was an idiot, “Sorry, I forgot the gold leaf. Come to think of it, I probably should’ve sprinkled it with some diamond powder too.”

Nie Huaisang snorted so loudly it echoed into the cavernous room. He threw his hands up to cover his face as if the glaring Lan Qiren couldn’t see the way his shoulders shook with mirth. Even Nie Mingjue’s mouth twitched as if he might’ve been amused, but then he seemed to remember who Wei Ying was and resorted to glaring at him instead.

Lan Qiren did not look incredibly amused. He casted an unamused look at the cake box. “Your contribution is… appreciated. Unfortunately, we rarely indulge in sweets.”

Wei Ying didn’t snort in his face but it was a close thing. “It’s a fruitcake,” Wei Ying said, and then wiggled the box at him, knowing propriety would force him to accept it anyway. “Very tasteless, much fruit. Christmas cheer and figs and all of that. Okay, I don’t really know what’s in a fruitcake, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Nie Huaisang put his entire face into the table as his shoulders shook. Lan Qiren turned a disturbing shade of red and purple but still thanked him through his teeth anyway, accepting the fruitcake and setting it on the table as far away from the family as he could. Even Lan Sizhui was biting back a smile as he ushered Wei Ying toward the seat of honor on the right side of the head of the table.

Lan Jingyi was already seated but kept grinning at him like a psychopath. Nie Huaisang was still struggling to control his grin and Nie Mingjue looked as though he might well spend the entire dinner pretending Wei Ying wasn’t there. Lan Sizhui took the spot beside him mildly, as if absolutely none of this was out of the ordinary.

Before anyone could think to start asking him questions, Wei Ying asked, “Where’s Lan Zhan?”

“Busy with work,” Lan Sizhui replied, and then elaborated when Wei Ying must’ve looked flabbergasted, “He helps run our family’s musical institute in the city. He said there was some time sensitive paperwork that needed attending.”

Wei Ying almost rolled his eyes, might’ve if he wasn’t a little too disappointed. Paperwork, his ass. Lan Zhan had probably seen the opportunity to resolutely ignore him and took the chance. It shouldn’t have felt as much like a rejection as it was; Wei Ying definitely had no grounds feeling so disappointed when he was the one trespassing on a family Christmas dinner and lying about dating a man in a coma.

It was all a bit… ridiculous. Wei Ying was used to having bouts of chaotic idiocy but he had really reached his potential with this one. 

He would break up with Lan Xichen before he woke up. He would. He knew he’d be outed as a liar if he waited too long, anyway, and the stress of pretending was going to give him gray hairs and Wei Ying would not stand for that. He would give himself this one dinner and then he would disappear like a ghost. He wasn’t very good at dealing with the aftermath of things, anyway. 

Just one night. He could have this distraction for one Christmas and then he could move on with his life. No harm done.

He was not allowed to pout over not seeing Lan Zhan again. He had barely even met the guy. So what if he was pretty and looked strong? So what if Wei Ying wanted to see how such a stoic man reacted if Wei Ying tried to tease him?

Irrelevant. Wei Ying was a ghost. He had one night to haunt this family and fade to little more than a memory, and he would simply have to take what he could get.

And as he focused back on the faces turned toward him, all of their gazes holding a burning curiosity, he realized what he was about to get was an inquisition.

Lan Jingyi leaned forward, chin on his hands. “Soooo. You and Xichen-ge.”

Wei Ying didn’t look at him but he felt the cut of Nie Mingjue’s eyes, his undivided attention. He made an effort not to notice. “Yup!”

Nie Huaisang leaned forward as well, fingers tapping at a cup of tea. “Tell us about that. How did you two meet?”

“At my job.” Wei Ying, in his infinite wisdom, had decided on the cab ride over that it would probably be in his best interest to lie as little as possible. It would be easier to keep track of things, at least, if the lies had a little bit of fact in them.

Lan Qiren perked up just slightly, eyes arrow-sharp. “At the firm?”

“Ah, no. I work at a coffee shop.”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes up toward the pretty chandelier. He seemed to be taking deep breaths.

Lan Jingyi said, “Ooh, a barista. So this is finding love at a coffee shop.”

“Uh. Sure.”

Lan Sizhui, “How long have you known each other?”

“Only a couple of months. He comes in every morning.”

Nie Huaisang, “This is the same location as the accident, right?”

“Ah. Yeah. I was working.”

Lan Jingyi, “Did you valiantly jump over the counter to save your beloved? Oh my gods, look at your face, you totally did!”

Lan Sizhui, “Jingyi, stop crying, we haven’t even served the soup yet.”

Nie Huaisang, “How long have you been dating?”

“Not long at all. Only a couple of dates.”

Lan Sizhui, “You jumped in to save him despite barely knowing him?”

Lan Jingyi began to wail. 

Lan Qiren snapped, “Quiet! Obnoxious child. Control yourself.”

Nie Huaisang tilted his head at him. Nie Mingjue, at his brother’s side, was glaring a hole through the fancy dishware on the place setting in front of him. Wei Ying heard the table creak and was fairly sure it was because Nie Mingjue was gripping it with all of his strength. 

“You must care for our cousin a lot,” Lan Sizhui noted. There was clear interest in his voice, and maybe even some approval. Wei Ying felt like he might break into hives. 

“Sure,” he replied a little hoarsely. 

Nie Mingjue finally looked up from his empty plate and leveled Wei Ying a glare so hot, he was fairly sure his hair might catch fire. He could not be entirely sure he still had eyebrows. “Sure?” he repeated with the weight of righteous judgment. Wei Ying looked at the man’s biceps and was fairly sure Nie Mingjue could dislodge his head from his shoulders with little effort.

“Of course!” he corrected. “I just meant—it’s new! But it’s a good kind of new, you know? He’s really kind and doesn’t treat me badly because I make coffee for a living, you know? Not to mention he’s way out of my league.”

Nie Mingjue made a soft noise of agreement. Nie Huaisang smacked his brother’s arm.

Lan Jingyi, meanwhile, was practically in hysterics. “You two seem like a beautiful couple,” the boy told him, choked with tears, despite the fact he had never once witnessed them interacting. 

Wei Ying felt more than a little mortified. “Thank you?”

And then, from the head of the table, Lan Qiren unexpectedly snapped, “What are your intentions with my nephew?”

Wei Ying gaped at him. “Intentions?”

“He certainly will not provide for your nephew,” Nie Mingjue replied to Lan Qiren as if Wei Ying was not sitting right there. “Not with a barista salary.”

“Xichen-ge is a lawyer,” Lan Jingyi reminded him, his voice slightly too high as if offended.

“Let them at least make out before you ask him about marriage,” Nie Huaisang snorted, and then turned to Wei Ying with sudden interest. “Unless you already have? Lan Xichen is either a prude or a slut and I will not be convinced otherwise.”

“Huaisang.”

“Da-ge, I am simply asking the man—”

“Huaisang!”

“Just one dinner,” Lan Qiren snapped as if this was a conversation derailment he had entirely expected, his scowl fierce. “You are lucky Wangji isn’t here—”

“Who is Wangji?” Wei Ying asked Lan Sizhui, who was calmly sipping his water.

“Lan Zhan,” the boy replied.

Wei Ying raised his eyebrows. “Why does—”

“—I’m just saying, the guy smiles like a virgin—”

“Huaisang, I swear to—”

Lan Jingyi howled, “There is nothing wrong with being a virgin.”

“ONE DINNER,” Lan Qiren thundered.

“They’ll quiet down in a moment,” Lan Sizhui assured Wei Ying. “Tensions are high this holiday, unfortunately.”

“Uh huh.” Wei Ying replied, watching the other side of the table have a meltdown. Nie Mingjue moved to put his hands around his little brother’s neck and Wei Ying was fairly certain it was not play-fighting. “If you don’t mind me asking—”

“The Nies are neighbors,” Lan Sizhui said with uncanny understanding. “Old family friends. I am surprised Xichen-ge never mentioned him.”

“Never came up,” he said, watching Lan Qiren curl his fingers around a carving knife as if he might throw it at the nearest moving target.

Before there could be a slaughter, a side door opened and an honest-to-gods personal chef walked through, wheeling in a cart of trays stacked with food. The attention turned to them and Wei Ying was allowed a very short reprieve in attention to pinch himself hard on his leg to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He was not.

“Soup,” Lan Jingyi said in a brilliant moment of word association, sitting solidly back down in his chair. Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue exchanged a long moment of eye contact before settling back into their seats, even as Nie Mingjue also returned to staring a hole in the center of the table.

Lan Qiren reached up and rubbed his face. Lan Sizhui put his napkin in his lap and, in the most undignified move Wei Ying had witnessed since his arrival, rolled his eyes.

“Merry freaking Christmas,” Lan Sizhui wished the room, reaching for the ladle.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The snow began at some point during the dinner, washing the world in a blanket of pure white, falling like a rainstorm. The Lans saw it through the giant, looming windows and immediately began making noises of unease about his journey home, the teenagers voicing their concerns of the roads. Wei Ying tried to assure them but it all went to naught when even Lan Qiren seemed swayed, gruffly informing Wei Ying that under no uncertain terms could he allow him to attempt his way home in these conditions. Wei Ying figured that, if the children had not been present, Lan Qiren might’ve left him to the mercy of the elements.

Wei Ying had attempted to insist but once Lan Qiren had stepped in, the battle had been over. He was quickly swept into a common area by the teenagers and Nie Huaisang and forced to join them sitting at a low table, where they managed to find an inordinate amount of the most tedious board games in the world. Wei Ying might’ve wept if he weren’t already quickly becoming numb to the whiplash that was the Lan and Nie families.

Dinner had been uneventful, because apparently it was a family rule not to speak while eating. Wei Ying had made attempts, but had been shushed all the while; he had ended up miserably eating the dullest, most uneventful meal of his life in dead silence, the smallest movements echoing up to the ceiling.

Chaos, then restraint. Couldn’t the Lans just accept that they were animals just like the rest of society and just talk with their mouth full, even just once? 

Wei Ying couldn’t begin to understand this strange, chaotic, aristocratic family even as he watched them argue over a Monopoly game, haggling over properties in the way that only rich people with no sense of economic worth could do. Wei Ying found himself laughing despite it all, falling into the rhythm of this family that so wanted to be wild and did not know how.

For a moment, Wei Ying thought about how he could show them the way to savagery, how he could make the Lans alive. And then he remembered that this was temporary, that this was only for today. That he did not have a stake to these people; that he came in and stole these moments like a thief and all they would have remaining were the footprints hidden in the snowfall.

Ugh. He didn’t know why he was growing attached to the most boring but interesting people he’d ever met. Wei Ying knew he was on borrowed time, that he was only welcome because they were so greatly missing the presence of two integral pieces of their family on one of the most celebratory days of the year.

So he played the games and only put up a slight fight when it was announced that these people go to sleep at nine in the evening, as if they all had to get up for grade school in the morning—he only whined a normal amount as Lan Sizhui was tasked with showing him to a guest room at the end of a hallway decorated in snowy blues and gold.

Lan Sizhui left him there with a cheerful wish goodnight and one last smile. Wei Ying closed the door once he was out of sight and awkwardly hovered in the middle of the guest room—expectedly better than his room back at his apartment, of course. He wasn’t wearing shoes but he still felt as though he might be tracking dirt on the soft white rug all the same, like his very presence here might be unclean.

He groaned and threw himself onto the bed. It was like launching himself onto a cloud. Was that memory foam? Maybe he should marry into this family after all.

He tried to sleep, he really did. He tossed and turned for a couple of hours, restless and in bed way too early. He tried pacing but then worried that someone might be in the bedroom beneath him; he even searched through the cabinets of the hall bathroom for something fun but the most he found was some vitamins.

At some point, he got a little brave and wandered downstairs, his house slippers ghosting across the rugs and wood that didn’t squeak at all. These teens were really wasting their youths—Wei Ying would’ve never stayed in the house during his teenage years if it had been this easy to sneak out of. 

The downstairs was even more intimidating with the lights off, the air still. Wei Ying was the only sound, the scuffle of his house shoes and the weight of his breath. He found his way back to the common area, the one with the biggest windows, and pulled one of the plush chairs over so he could plant himself there, watching the sluggish snowfall and the gentle sway of the skeleton-bare trees.

Christmas always made him think too much. Wei Ying had never found the off switch for his brain and it only made days like this just a little bit longer. He felt like he could pace out of his skin, walk away and leave his body behind, deflated skin on a chair and heart beating in an empty chest.

He couldn’t look out into the storm and keep himself from thinking of his siblings. Thinking of the family across the country that had thrown him away, had found him more trouble than he had ever been worth. It felt like being rubbed raw with sandpaper but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering what their Christmases looked like now, if it looked just the same as it always had but with a Wei Ying-sized piece carved out of the side. He wondered if they even noticed anymore.

This had been a good distraction. A fun one, even. The Lan family with the Nie brothers had done a good job at distracting him from this idle sadness in his chest, this melancholic fog. He would shake it away in the morning, when dawn broke and the day was a little less special, but it hung around his neck like an albatross. It kept him awake and wondering, reaching for his phone and wondering if they would even answer if he called them.

Wei Ying pulled his knees to his chest, leaned his cheek onto them. 

It had been a good Christmas, he realized with surprise. A little weird but Wei Ying was weird, too. It was surprisingly nice, being part of a big family again. Even from where he stood on the outskirts, he couldn’t help but to like how seamlessly he found a piece of himself here, how they had accepted him with open arms (and some narrowed eyes).

Maybe Wei Ying just hadn’t been used to kindness if it didn’t come in the shape of the Wen siblings, but they had certainly shown him kindness. For that, Wei Ying was grateful.

He had to stop pretending. He had to—

In such a quiet house, the sound of the front door opening echoed like a bomb blast. The roar of the wind rose, and then silenced with the click of the latch—Wei Ying was too far away but he could have sworn that he felt a slight chill, curled a little closer in on himself.

He hesitated for just a second. Just one heartbeat where he knew this was not his house, where he knew exactly who that must be.

And then he was on his feet, gliding into the corridor.

Lan Zhan painted the same striking figure as when he had burst into that hospital room, broad shoulders and a looming presence that filled up some of the empty space even as he simply removed his shoes and his coat, snow sticking to the ends of his hair. Wei Ying tried to hold his breath, to steal a couple of moments if he was already going to be a thief, but Lan Zhan must have heard his movement in the quiet as well—he turned and met his eyes immediately, pinning him in place with an intense golden stare and the smallest wrinkle between his eyebrows like he might frown.

Wei Ying smiled. He had never been very shy but he felt a little raw and exposed right now, watching the snow in the dark of a strange, beautiful home. Facing down the stare of a strange, beautiful boy.

Lan Zhan seemed surprised to see him. That frown line disappeared as his eyebrows rose, his movements paused. He stared at Wei Ying as if he might not even be there at all, as if he really was a ghost.

He swallowed back a little flicker of sadness, drifted a little closer so that his voice wouldn’t shake the walls of this home down.

“I hope I didn’t scare you,” Wei Ying said, smiling as a peace offering. Lan Zhan watched his approach without a change on his face, his eyes tracking every movement. “I couldn’t sleep and ended up pacing. I guess the snow is better now, huh? Must have been if you could make it here. That’s good.”

Lan Zhan blinked. And then he nodded, turning back to hang up his coat. He hesitated before he took a step closer, closing that space just slightly. 

“My apologies,” Lan Zhan said slowly, voice deep and sweet. Wei Ying felt a shiver roll down his spine—he wondered if it was that same chill, lingering. “I missed dinner.”

Wei Ying felt a spike of amusement. “You did. Not like you missed much, though. Has your family always had the no talking rule? I don’t think I’ve ever gone so long without talking in my entire life.”

“Hm,” Lan Zhan said with a little bit of judgement. Wei Ying laughed, and then pursed his lips together when it echoed, creeping down the corridor and up the stairs. 

“I’m kidding, Lan Zhan,” he replied. He liked the way the man’s name caught on his tongue, liked the weight of it against his lips. He tilted his head, a teasing smile pulling onto his lips, easy as breathing with this strange man who did not look away from him once. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me!”

Lan Zhan frowned. Wei Ying quite liked his reactions. He was fun to tease, this man with sharp edges and brilliant eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not so self-obsessed to think so, Lan Zhan,” he assured the man with another laugh pitched low, kept quiet in the dark. “Lan Sizhui said it was something to do with your job that kept you. On Christmas? It must be unfair, being in charge.”

“It’s not a bother,” Lan Zhan assured him but perhaps a little too quick. He cleared his throat. “It had to be done.”

Wei Ying wondered what it must be like, to so want to avoid one’s family on Christmas. He couldn't even begin to fathom.

“Still,” he sighed, playing his part, “I quite missed you at the dinner, Lan Zhan. You haven’t even had the chance to interrogate me yet.”

This seemed to bring the man up short. Wei Ying laughed, dancing a step closer.

“I’m just kidding, Lan Zhan, of course! You can ask me anything you want, but probably not for tonight, huh? It’s late, after all. You must be tired.”

He did look tired, Wei Ying thought. It was something in the way he held his shoulders, as if he was carrying a great weight, and the sleepy curve of his eyes as he struggled to keep them open. He looked so much like his brother, and not like him at all—such a similar face, but those eyes. There was no twin for the way Lan Zhan looked at him, like he wanted to ask a thousand things at once but did not know where at all to begin. 

Wei Ying couldn’t blame him. He couldn’t help but to be a little selfishly pleased, too, that he was able to see this man one more time. 

“You came to dinner,” Lan Zhan murmured. A pinch between his eyebrows again, a silent question.

Wei Ying shrugged and grinned as if it didn’t matter, as if he hadn’t just been thinking about it all. “Ah, no family means no plans. It was generous of your family to invite me at all.”

“It was no issue,” he replied as if he had even been there at all, as if he knew how it went. As if he thought the same thing, he cleared his throat self-consciously. “I am… sorry.”

“For what? Oh, my family? It’s okay, don’t worry about it. It’s been a long time.”

Lan Zhan didn’t seem incredibly convinced, but the shadows made him a little harder to read, gave an already reserved man some space to hide. The air between them was… odd. Wei Ying at once wanted to take a step forward and one back—he felt the otherness in every breath, this strange hesitation and interest, as if they both didn’t know what to do with their hands.

Lan Zhan was gorgeous, but the unattainable kind, like his brother. A look-but-don’t-touch kind of beauty. Wei Ying wanted to step into his orbit, to see what kind of world this man lived in, but he knew better than to try. Wei Ying was a hopeless romantic but this was something else, a tension written in the lines of a searching gaze and the way Lan Zhan didn’t seem to realize his hands were flexing into fists, tightening and releasing.

In another life, maybe. Wei Ying could’ve imagined wanting to approach this man in all the different circumstances, if life had gone differently. He wasn’t deluded enough into thinking Lan Zhan may feel the same way, refused to allow himself to believe that this man’s caution could be confused with desire.

Still. Wei Ying couldn’t help but to close the space, just close enough that he felt Lan Zhan’s body heat as he leaned in. Lan Zhan didn’t flinch away but his eyes widened—but Wei Ying reached up past his face, shook the snow from this man’s hair and let it melt between his fingers.

Wei Ying looked up. Caught his breath when he realized just how close he had stepped, and how foolishly bold he had let himself be.

Lan Zhan breathed out as if he had been holding his breath. Wei Ying felt the whisper of it along his cheek, like the phantom brush of a fingertip.

He took a step away. Broke the spell with a crooked smile and a rapidly beating heart.

“There was snow in your hair,” he explained as if this man had not guessed, hoping that his own flustered restlessness didn’t show on his face. He wanted to kick himself but Lan Zhan was watching him too closely and was liable to ask if he started physically attacking himself. He offered him a grin. “Didn’t want you to drip through this pretty house.”

Lan Zhan stared at him for a long beat before he looked away. He looked back a moment later as if he thought Wei Ying might make a run for it, as if they weren’t both trapped in this little bubble of quiet and snowfall and unsaid things. He opened his mouth and then closed it with a thoughtful tilt of his head.

“I do have questions,” Lan Zhan informed him softly. “About my brother.”

“It’s late,” Wei Ying interrupted him, as if the lateness of the hour had kept them from this moment at all. “And I have to work in the morning, so I’m leaving early. Can’t you ask me another time? Any other time?”

Lan Zhan hesitated, and then nodded. Wei Ying wasn’t foolish enough to believe he didn't notice the evasion, but he was at least polite enough not to point it out.

“Another time,” he agreed. He ducked his head as if in a bow. “Goodnight, Wei Ying.”

And then he drifted away like a dream chased into the morning light, an illusion just out of reach. Wei Ying turned and watched Lan Zhan walk quietly toward the stairs, ascending so quietly as if he was the ghost. As if it was not Wei Ying but he who haunted the halls of this family home, of this place in which his family slept as if they hadn’t noticed his absence at all.

Wei Ying murmured after him, “Goodnight, Lan Zhan,” but he was already gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Wei Ying left early the next morning, before the others woke. Lan Zhan watched him stumble through the newly fallen snow and toward the taxicab waiting at the curb, coat bundled tightly around himself and head ducked against the wind. He didn’t once look back at the house as he climbed into the car that would take him away.

Lan Zhan watched until the taxicab disappeared around a corner and out of sight. Pursed his lips against how it felt to watch this man disappear as if he had never been there at all.

He had questions now. He had a mystery wrapped in a man with a beautiful smile.

And Lan Zhan was determined to solve it all.

Chapter Text

Working at the cafe was significantly more boring without the possibility of drowning.

Wei Ying had made that joke to Wen Ning the day after Christmas. Wen Ning hadn’t much appreciated it but the sentiment was correct—Wei Ying had almost forgotten how easy the movements were, how working this job took so little thought and effort from habit and familiarity. He would’ve liked a little variety, some kind of distraction, but the days passed normally and uneventfully, falling back into step.

Wen Ning pretended not to notice Wei Ying’s weird mood. He also very carefully did not ask about how he spent his Christmas holiday, although he probably had an idea. Wen Ning was a very good friend.

Except when he wasn’t.

“Please stop looking at the door,” Wen Ning begged him halfway through the second day after Christmas. “My sister will be very angry if you try to drown yourself again.”

“I didn’t try.”

“That’s right,” he agreed. “You succeeded. Good job.”

Wei Ying stuck out his tongue.

It had been normal, even after he snuck out of the Lan house. Lan Sizhui hadn’t messaged him to demand an explanation, which was nothing short of a relief. Wei Ying’s world hadn’t dramatically changed just because he did a safer dumb thing. 

It was easier this way, anyway. A lot less complicated. With time, Wei Ying was sure that he would be forgettable.

Wen Ning squinted at him, concerned. Wei Ying realized he had just been asked something but couldn’t remember at all what. He offered his friend a grin and received a dire look back.

“Are you okay?” Wen Ning asked, and then narrowed his eyes when Wei Ying opened his mouth to give him the usual reply. “You’ve been acting a little weird. Did something happen? Are you still not feeling well?”

“Wen Ning, I’m fine,” he replied, flapping his hand at him. “Don’t fuss.”

His best friend leveled him with a stare that very clearly informed Wei Ying he would’ve considered hitting him hard if he hadn’t already been through enough this week.

“It’s nothing,” he assured Wen Ning still, focusing on the cabinets he was nervously reorganizing just for something to do. “Just got a lot on my mind, you know? Many things. There’s a man in a coma. That’s a pretty big deal.”

“Have you been back to see him?”

“No,” Wei Ying replied as if he hadn’t found himself pacing the sidewalk outside of the hospital every day after he left the cafe, wondering if he should go in or not before ultimately talking himself out of it. “I don’t want to get in the way, you know? And what if his family is there? It’ll just make things even more awkward later. I am not in the business of making things awkward, Wen Ning.”

The bell over the door rang, signalling a new customer. Wei Ying didn’t turn around, continued gesturing wildly at his best friend. 

“I know when to quit, you know?” he demanded, even as Wen Ning’s gaze travelled behind him—and held. “I’m not awkward. I am confident. So confident. I know what I am doing all the time. Especially right now. Why are you looking at me like that?”

Wen Ning looked stricken. He opened his mouth but didn’t manage to get a word out before someone cleared their throat behind him, on the other side of the counter.

“Wei Ying.”

His entire heart stopped. Wei Ying whirled around, nearly knocking over everything on the counter.

Lan Zhan stared back at him, vaguely a little amused and perhaps also concerned. He watched with his normal stoicism as Wei Ying flailed helplessly for a moment before remembering how to control his limbs; he leaned against the counter toward Lan Zhan with a welcoming smile even as he internally started screaming in terror, ignoring the way Wen Ning was standing and gaping at his shoulder.

“Lan Zhan!” he greeted. “What a surprise to see you here. How did you know where I worked?”

“Police report,” the man replied, his eyes skittering to look in the direction of the canal before pointedly focusing back on Wei Ying. He raised his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Wei Ying assured him hoarsely. He cleared his throat resolutely. “What brings you all the way out here, huh? Are you thirsty? Want some coffee? You seem like more of a tea guy. Do you want some tea?”

“I wanted to speak to you, actually,” Lan Zhan said, and then hesitated. He glanced around self-consciously, as if realizing he had gone into a cafe without the intention of buying anything, before he added, “Green tea would be fine.”

Wei Ying was almost grateful for something to do with his hands, since he certainly wasn’t having the same problem with his mouth. “You need to speak to me, Lan Zhan? What about? Is it your brother, is he okay? Did something happen?”

“He is fine,” he was quick to assure him, hands raising slightly as if he hoped the gesture would be enough to stop Wei Ying from falling into a full-blown panic. “Nothing urgent has happened.”

Wei Ying let out a sigh of relief that was… a little too genuine, considering he had no right to this knowledge, this man, or this family. “Oh. That’s good. Don’t scare me like that, Lan Zhan! Showing up out of nowhere like this, one might think you were here for bad news!”

Lan Zhan squinted at him with a constipated look that insinuated that wasn’t the first time he’d heard something to that effect. Wei Ying felt a surprised, sincere laugh tumble out of him as his hands worked automatically, gathering the tea leaves to steep and boiling the water. He peeked up at the other man to find him already staring—Lan Zhan’s mouth twisted in a strange way before he ducked his head as if bashful, embarrassed. And maybe it was a little reckless but boy did Wei Ying feel a little charmed; boy did he feel that slight skip in his heart, that feeling that he was finally, finally on the right path.

The wrong one, technically. Wei Ying didn’t let himself think about the ways this could have been different, didn’t let himself think anymore about the way Lan Zhan still hadn’t looked back up at him.

“What did you need me for?” Wei Ying asked, and he hated that it sounded like a completely different question. Thankfully, Lan Zhan was none the wiser.

Lan Zhan straightened back up as if finally remembering what he was there to do. “I was planning to visit my brother and was hoping you would join me, as we weren’t able to speak much on Christmas. Now, of course, I’m realizing you’re at work, and that now likely isn’t a good time—”

“He has time,” Wen Ning suddenly piped up from a meter to Wei Ying’s left, nearly scaring him directly out of his skin. Wei Ying whirled on him and discovered Wen Ning standing directly where he’d been when Lan Zhan entered, even though Wei Ying could’ve sworn he’d never been there in the moments since. “You can go,” Wen Ning clarified to him, completely misinterpreting the stunned silence. “It’s not too busy, I can handle it.”

Wei Ying opened his mouth—and then, mercifully, had the sense to close it.

The problem wasn’t that the brother of the guy he was pretending to be dating had shown up at his work, asking to spend quality time with him. Wei Ying had gone through an entire dinner with this family, thus discovering he was clearly very shameless in his deception. So no, he wasn’t worried about the things they might speak about.

No—he was worried about mentioning all of the things that they weren’t saying. He was a little afraid that he would open his mouth and continue to flirt with this man even though he wasn’t allowed to, even though he was the most gorgeous man he’d seen in recent memory (and who wasn’t in a coma, to boot). A part of Wei Ying knew there was a limit even to his own shamelessness but he was worried for a moment of weakness, if someone reached out and skin touched, if a gaze lingered just a little bit too long.

Wei Ying was drawn to this strange, beautiful, infuriatingly confusing man. He was afraid he’d lose his mind for just long enough to ruin everything. He was worried that it was starting to feel even a little worth it.

But what could he do, really, with Wen Ning giving him permission like Lan Zhan had asked for a blessing in marriage, the man in question watching him with that burning stare. Wei Ying knew that every second that passed in silence was suspect, thanks to his dumb mouth.

He… didn’t have much room to decline, and even less time to think. So he took it to the extreme and acted instead like this was the best idea anyone in the entire world had ever had.

“Lan Zhan! How clever! Well, if Wen Ning doesn’t mind, then why not. It sounds like fun.”

Wen Ning elbowed him in the side and nodded to the tea, ready to serve to-go, in Wei Ying’s hands. Wei Ying pushed it across the counter hastily with the biggest smile he could manage, brushing past Wen Ning and into the back room and he continued speaking over his shoulder, “Let me grab my coat, I’ll be right out! Tea’s on the house, of course, haha!”

The door swung shut behind him. Wei Ying ducked out of sight, ripped off his apron, and buried his head in his hands.

“Oh gods,” he muttered to himself, muffled by his palms. “I’m hopeless.”

The silence seemed to agree. He leaned his head back onto the wall and breathed in deeply. Breathed back out.

“Oh, hell,” he mumbled, grabbing his coat. “Here goes nothing.”

(And if he very much noticed the way Wen Ning gave him a thumbs-up once Lan Zhan’s back was turned, mouthing “he’s cute!” with such exaggeration that it could be seen from outer space—well.)

~*~*~*~*~*~

Lan Zhan had been fairly sure this was a good idea.

There had been moments of doubt. Moments where it had seemed as though he was gravely overstepping his bounds, even if it might be an avenue to protect his family. But he knew it was for the best to know for sure. To put whatever he was feeling aside—not that he was feeling anything at all—and do what needed to be done.

And then he had been standing in that cozy cafe, melting under the heat of Wei Ying’s biggest smile, and he was pretty sure he was a goner.

He was incredibly aware of where Wei Ying was next to him—how close, how far. He could almost hear every single step he was taking in his shoes that did not look very warm, his hands shoved into a coat that did not look at all thick enough. There was always a smile on his face; Lan Zhan wondered if Wei Ying even knew that he was always smiling, even just a little, the smallest grin at the corners of his mouth like something delighted him about every waking moment.

Lan Zhan has not been one for outward emotion. He learned young that people asked more questions when he showed them that he was upset. He had long learned how to bury those little broken things and had never thought he’d pushed away some of the good feelings, too. He did not know if he ever felt the world as acutely as Wei Ying must, with smiles like that.

He hated how much he noticed about this man. He hated all of the ways in which it was not allowed to matter, because he was here for a reason and that reason was figuring out if Wei Ying was a liar.

There was something about the situation that simply could not sit well with Lan Zhan, like carbonation stuck in his chest. For all he liked to speak, Wei Ying sidestepped direct questions, redirected answers so carefully that it was beginning to feel like a game. Lan Zhan worked with enough teenagers to know the signs of suspicious behavior, to know that sometimes people liked to lie for inexplicable reasons.

Wei Ying walked like there wasn’t snow and ice and sludge on the ground, big strides and humming under his breath. He angled his head up like he might be able to catch snowflakes on his tongue, squinting up into the overcast sun.

“Bad weather out, huh?” Wei Ying asked, glancing over at him. He grinned a little wider, leaning over to elbow him gently in the side. Lan Zhan did his best not to flinch. “Lan Zhan, you wanted me on this walk to ask me questions, didn’t you? You haven’t said a word yet, you know. Is it normal for you to say so little?”

“Sometimes,” Lan Zhan admitted even though it felt a little like swallowing razor blades. “My apologies. I’m the… quiet one, in my family.”

“No offense, Lan Zhan, but that wouldn’t take much.” Wei Ying nudged him again and laughed, amused. “Your family is definitely strange. A good strange! But strange. I think Lan Jingyi fit three whole chicken wings in his mouth during dinner.”

“His record is four.” It was a joke, and Lan Zhan was used to people not knowing to laugh—but Wei Ying burst into loud peals of delighted laughter echoing up into the sky. Wei Ying grinned over at him, teasing and delighted and so full of mixed signals that Lan Zhan could not even figure out which one to pay attention to.

“You’re funny,” Wei Ying said as if it was a surprise, and perhaps it was. “Very clever, Lan Zhan. Pull them in with a pretty face and then reveal how great you are. Everyone loves a man who makes them laugh.”

Lan Zhan… did not know what to do with that. “Speaking of my family,” he began, and the smile dropped so slightly from Wei Ying’s face. “You’ll be happy to know they have a favorable opinion about you.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s good. Great, even!”

“Some have been wanting to reach out, but unwilling to be a burden. We’re aware that this must be a very stressful time for you.”

“No less stressful than what you all are going through,” Wei Ying replied, shooting him a grin. “I mean, I’m not about to go swimming any time soon, but I’m just… living, you know? Don’t know what else to do other than that. But tell Lan Sizhui he’s allowed to text me. He’s a nice kid.”

“He is.” Lan Zhan could say so much about Lan Sizhui—about how it felt some days as though he’d raised him, how there were so many orphans in the Lan family that it would only make sense that they would be drawn toward Wei Ying as well—but he knew better than to overstep, to overshare. “You liked my family, then?”

He felt Wei Ying’s eyes on him. Lan Zhan was suddenly very glad his thoughts didn’t show on his face, that people had always told him he was cold, unreadable—

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying cried, scandalized, and then nearly tripped over himself as he laughed with his whole body, head thrown back and hand on his chest. “I can’t believe you! You’re trying to get me to gossip about Nie Mingjue. The audacity! The shamelessness! The betrayal , Lan Zhan!”

He didn’t even have the chance to recover from the shock of being seen, of Wei Ying being able to read something that should be hidden away from him. Lan Zhan felt his ears burn red hot and didn’t know which he was most embarrassed of.

He faced front, keeping his eyes firmly on the long stretch of sidewalk and off the untouchable man beside him.

Wei Ying didn’t seem to get the memo, though, and skittered back over, leaning the line of his body against Lan Zhan’s as he laughed freely. Both of his arms curled around one of Lan Zhan’s as he said, sing-song, “Lan Zhan, you want to gossip with me about your big brother! So scandalous, Lan Zhan.”

“I didn’t— Lan Zhan shook his head, trying to brush off the embarrassment and the warmth of Wei Ying at his side. “You’re making fun of me.”

Wei Ying nodded, morphing his face to be serious in what Lan Zhan assumed was a replication of his own face. “A little bit. Sorry, Lan Zhan, but I didn’t think I would see the day.”

“Wei Ying.”

“I’m just kidding, Lan Zhan, of course.” Wei Ying swayed away, back to his own side of the walkway. Lan Zhan felt the chill in the space left behind. “I don’t know much about the situation with Nie Mingjue. I’ve gathered plenty, and he obviously doesn't like me much, but I assume there’s something there, right? I’m just not trying to invite myself into drama where I don’t belong.”

Lan Zhan raised his head again, surprised. “It is your business, is it not? In regards to my brother.”

Wei Ying’s eyes widened, and then he started nodding. “Oh, yeah, sure. But, like… it’s one of those things, you know? It’s not my business for things that happened in the past. Or didn’t happen. I’m supposed to be looking at the present and the future, right? Isn’t that how it works?”

“I suppose,” Lan Zhan replied, but he couldn’t help but to feel like it had been another one of those dodges, another one of those answers that answered nothing. Wei Ying offered him a reassuring smile, turning his attention back to his feet as he kicked at the sludgy snow.

Lan Zhan wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not. Wei Ying’s response was moral and kind and mature, but something about it rang… distrustful. Lan Zhan wanted to believe him, wanting to swallow it all like rose thorns and learn to accept what he didn’t fully understand, but he just couldn’t help but to wonder.

He couldn’t help but to look at Wei Ying, even when he shouldn’t. He couldn’t help but to think of the way he’d looked that night in the dark, moonlight and snowfall, a ghost of a dream with the most tragic of smiles.

He couldn’t forget how Wei Ying had stepped so close. How it had felt like something more than what it ever could be, how it had felt as natural as gravity. How he had yearned to lean forward. To close that gap.

Lan Zhan couldn’t quite shake that night. He couldn’t connect the man he encountered that night to the man dating his brother, the one who saved his life.

It was immoral, uncomfortable. Lan Zhan should know better.

“That night,” Lan Zhan choked out and Wei Ying’s gaze snapped over, alert and serious and cautious. “You mentioned your family.”

The words hung uncertain in the air for a moment. And then Wei Ying let out the breath he’d been holding, as if he’d been thinking of the terrible things Lan Zhan had been thinking of. As if he’d thought Lan Zhan would take that step, and close that distance.

Foolish. Impossible. Lan Zhan knew better.

“Oh,” Wei Ying said, and then straightened up. “Right. Yeah, my family. What do you want to know?”

“You had nowhere else to go on Christmas.”

“It’s a long story, Lan Zhan. From a long time ago. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that.”

“Don’t feel obligated,” Lan Zhan assured him, cursing himself. Too forward, too personal. “My apologies.”

Wei Ying looked down at his feet again, a quiet dismissal. Lan Zhan understood; he didn’t have a right to these questions, the same way Wei Ying didn’t have to answer him about Nie Mingjue. He was poking at a bruise that hadn’t yet had time to heal, black and blue and sore to the touch. 

Wei Ying breathed in loudly through his nose, stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk with intense focus.

“My parents died when I was little,” Wei Ying informed him softly, his tone lilting as if it didn’t matter at all. “I was sent to live with a family friend of theirs. He had his own family—a daughter a few years older, a son my age, and a wife who did not like my mother even a little bit. Eventually I heard rumors that it was jealousy, but who knows. It doesn’t really matter. She didn’t like me and it showed and it made us all miserable, so I did them a favor and left.”

Lan Zhan looked over, eyebrows raising. Wei Ying didn’t look up from his feet and those stilted steps.

“She told me to get out and I decided it would be the last time. So, you know, technically it’s my fault,” Wei Ying reasoned out, wry smile on his face. “It was the best choice for all of us, honestly. But I still get a little upset about it on Christmas, you know? Can’t help thinking about it.”

Lan Zhan felt, suddenly and viscerally, that he had done something terrible. He should have never asked about something so vulnerable and personal.

“Wei Ying,” he murmured, but Wei Ying just shook his head.

“I don’t really talk to people about it, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying told him with a sad smile that didn’t fit his face. “An orphan, disowned by his foster family. Kinda sad, isn’t it? Maybe the third time’s the charm.”

Lan Zhan had never felt other people’s heartbreak so acutely. He had been around it with his family, watched his brother fall for all of the wrong people and watched Nie Mingjue stand on the sidelines and pick up the pieces. He ached for a life he could have had with parents that were gone, and had felt hurt wondering if Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi might share some of the same thoughts. But he looked at Wei Ying and at the quiet devastation he was trying to hide on his face and he felt it like a knife between his ribs. He felt the sinking dread, the nauseous upset, the unforgivable heartbreak.

He wanted to reach out. He wanted to pull this man closer, to bring him into his family. To banish that sorrow and replace it with nothing but good things, things that made him smile and made every holiday feel less suffocating. He wanted, and he felt, and he… did not have that honor.

His brother had seen the same spirit in Wei Ying. His brother must have fallen for Wei Ying at the same pace Lan Zhan felt he was—steadily, uncontrollably, hopelessly. Lan Zhan could not reach for Wei Ying because Wei Ying was not his to reach out to.

It tasted wrong. Sour. He accidentally misstepped and made Wei Ying hurt and he could not even do anything to help him. Couldn’t do anything other than choke out, “I wish the world had treated you better, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying looked at him. Lan Zhan didn’t understand the look on his face, the slight tilt of his head, the twist of just one side of his mouth as if he didn’t know whether to frown or laugh. 

It was haunting him. Wei Ying had walked away from him that first day and he had followed him like a phantom ever since, planting a seed of something insidious in his mind.

Lan Zhan had wanted to prove that Lan Xichen did not love this stranger. Now, he wondered if he was just seeing what he wanted to see because Lan Zhan could not have what he unexpectedly wished he could. 

He would not prove that Wei Ying did not belong with Lan Xichen simply because he wished to carve a spot for him at his own side.

Wei Ying breathed out the smallest laugh. Shot him the smallest, sweetest smile. 

“Thanks, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying murmured, leaning over and nudging him again, smile getting wider and brighter. “But I’m okay, really. I’ve got a good job with good friends. I’ve got an apartment. And a cat. And your brother, of course.”

“Of course,” Lan Zhan was quick to affirm, swallowing the uncomfortable feeling in his throat. 

“Sorry, I am definitely bringing the mood down, huh?” Wei Ying laughed. “I’ve done a lot of talking about me, Lan Zhan. What about you? Fancy guy with a fancy job and a certifiably insane family—you must contain multitudes.”

“I’m not very interesting.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. No, I know that’s not true.”

Lan Zhan glanced over to find Wei Ying simpering, grinning teasingly over at him. “Wei Ying.”

“I’m serious! Come on, not even some choice words about your job? Some tasteful commentary on how great it is to shape the minds of youths?”

“I like my job.”

Wei Ying waited for more, and then laughed when Lan Zhan did not elaborate. “Profound stuff. Glad we had this talk.”

“Well, you’ve met my family. That’s usually my conversation starter.”

“You really are funny, you know.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

They turned the corner and the hospital loomed in the distance, a steady stream of passerby on the sidewalks coming and going. Wei Ying crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing the windows with a strange, distant look on his face.

Lan Zhan could not seem to contain himself when it came to this man, couldn’t help but to ask, “Is everything alright?”

“Not a fan of hospitals,” Wei Ying murmured. “So. Lan Zhan. Did you ask all the right questions? Solve all of my mysteries?”

“Not all of them.” Lan Zhan watched Wei Ying go quiet, eyes still on the hospital. “Do you want to come in?”

“Would you hate me if I said no?”

“No,” Lan Zhan replied honestly. “It’s… difficult to see him like that.”

“Yeah.” Wei Ying shook his head, hard. “Yeah, and I should be getting back to work. Wen Ning didn’t make a big deal out of it but I know he would appreciate an extra hand in the cafe.”

They paused there, steps away from the hospital entrance. Lan Zhan wished he knew what to say, wanted to understand why Wei Ying had opened up to him and why he didn’t like hospitals. He smothered it, put those thoughts into a box and set it on fire.

Wei Ying stuffed his hands into his hoodie and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Well. Anyway. Thank you for the walk, Lan Zhan. It was good to see you again.”

“Thank you for humoring me. Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying replied like a reflex, a farewell. Wei Ying shot him one last smile before he turned on his heel and walked away, back the way they came as if he’d traced those steps plenty of time before.

Lan Zhan watched him until he was sure Wei Ying wouldn’t look back. And then, feeling a little nauseous, feeling plenty ashamed, he finally turned away.

He should let this go. Banish this wild, nonsensical dream. Stop interfering in lives that did not belong to him.

Lan Zhan should let his brother have something good. He should let Wei Ying have something good.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, cold air and the smell of the city. And then he let it go, turned to stride through the doors, and began the now-familiar path through the sterile halls to his brother’s room.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying used to think he had bad luck. He was slowly beginning to believe his luck wasn’t necessarily bad—it just came with terms and conditions.

“There you are!” Lan Jingyi yelled at the top of his lungs the second he walked through the door to the cafe despite the dozen people peacefully existing throughout the dining room. Lan Sizhui put his head in his hands as if ashamed; Nie Huaisang didn’t so much as blink, dogging Lan Jingyi’s footsteps as he crossed the space to the counter with a big grin.

“More people,” Wen Ning noted with no lack of amusement, examining the newcomers. “You’re quite popular, huh?”

“Just with one family,” Wei Ying assured him, turning to lean across the display case. “What brings you all here?”

“Lan Zhan gave us the address,” Nie Huaisang didn’t hesitate to inform him. He glanced around at every corner before nodding approvingly. “Nice place. I can totally see why Lan Xichen became a return customer.”

“Oh, I think we know the real reason he kept coming back,” Lan Jingyi said, and then actually turned to Wei Ying and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Wei Ying gaped back at him, mildly horrified.

Wen Ning choked out a sound that might’ve been either a laugh or a cry for help.

“Anyway,” Lan Sizhui began, pushing back to the head of the group, knowing exactly when to keep them on track. He offered Wei Ying a very kind smile, inclining his head in greeting. “Sorry for barging in, we were in the neighborhood.”

“You’re not barging,” Wei Ying assured him, even though he kinda wanted to take off running and never be heard from again. He gestured toward them in a desperate attempt to buy himself time to debate if he could get to the airport before they managed to catch up. “Wow, it’s just great to see you all again, haha.”

“Especially since you mysteriously dipped out of the house on Christmas,” Nie Huaisang replied with a serene smile and eyes that were even sharper than his tone. “Everything alright?”

“Just had to work,” Wei Ying said a little too quickly. “You know. At this cafe. In which I work. And where we are currently.”

Nie Huaisang nodded. “Yup. Rings a bell.”

“I’m relieved you didn’t feel the need to sneak out or anything,” Lan Sizhui told him with incredible sincerity. “You wouldn’t be the first to make an emergency escape.”

“That’s slightly alarming,” Wen Ning murmured, but quickly pretended to look very busy when all four of them turned to look at him. Wei Ying bit back his grin, reaching to untie his apron.

“Let’s sit, it’s about time for a break anyway,” Wei Ying encouraged them, nudging Wen Ning pointedly. Wen Ning rolled his eyes and waved him off, turning back to the coffee grounds he was carefully labeling. He dodged around the counter and ushered the group of exuberant children and Nie Huaisang to a table in the furthest corner.

The three followed him, and before he could even say anything else, Lan Sizhui cut right to the chase.

“A little birdy told me he stopped by yesterday,” he said, leaning forward until he was practically draped over the table. “Didn’t know the two of you even knew each other, honestly.”

Wei Ying hoped no one noticed he was sweating. “Oh, right, Lan Zhan! We talked, very briefly. After dinner. He’s nice.”

“I don’t think a single human stranger has ever described Lan Zhan as nice,” Nie Huaisang replied, eyebrows up. “Usually it’s more along the lines of aloof, or dismissive.”

“He must’ve made a good impression,” Lan Jingyi responded, shooting Nie Huaisang a capital-L Look. “He does that sometimes.”

“Him and Xichen-ge are really close. But I’m sure you knew that already,” Lan Sizhui added hastily, a pacifying smile and all the right intentions. “He mentioned he swung by and you guys talked.”

“How sweet,” Lan Jingyi whimpered. “You’re getting to know the family.”

“What’d you guys talk about?” Nie Huaisang demanded curiously, tilting his head to the side very pointedly. “I wouldn’t guess you two have much in common.”

“We talked about your family and his brother and everything he missed at the dinner.” Wei Ying glanced between them, narrowing his eyes. “Is this an interrogation? It feels like an interrogation.”

“It’s not every day that our beloved Lan Zhan gets along well with people,” Nie Huaisang admitted. “We were curious.”

“Right,” Wei Ying responded, thinking that if and when this whole thing went sour, he was probably going to have to find somewhere else to work, lest this family keep showing up when they’re least expected. “Well, anyway, it’s not really like we’re hanging out. It’s a little more like we’re figuring out what to do with each other, you know?”

Lan Jingyi nodded like it was the word of ultimate law. Nie Huaisang smiled like he had a thousand more questions he wasn’t going to ask.

Lan Sizhui, because he’s a cinnamon bun of a teenager, didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “Well, welcome to the family. Lan Zhan seems to like you.”

“Really?” Wei Ying asked, perhaps a little too fast. He immediately tried to play it off, exaggerating the angle of his eyebrows, the doubtful curl of his grin. Playing the part even though he was fairly sure he was not doing a good job at all. “What makes you think that?”

“He wouldn’t seek you out if he hated you, trust me,” Lan Sizhui laughed. “He likes who he likes, you know?”

Wei Ying nodded, a little more because he didn’t know what expression was on his face but he sure hoped it was doubt. He didn’t know at all what to think about Lan Zhan, didn’t know why the guy was so distant and fascinating all at once. He had no idea why he turned back up when Wei Ying disappeared and he’d been doing a good job of pretending like he hadn’t been thinking about the guy ever since, the way he looked at Wei Ying like he had no idea what to think of him. Like Wei Ying was a particularly difficult puzzle in the morning newspaper.

Wei Ying… definitely didn’t hate Lan Zhan. Not even a little bit. But he also wasn’t at all sure how he felt about the guy, mostly because of the everything about him.

“He’s nice,” Wei Ying once again assured them, plastering on the best smile he could muster. He slapped his hands on the table, leaning back. “Anyway! I’m sure you guys are busy, since you were only stopping in! How about some free dessert and I’ll let you get back to... whatever the hell you were doing.”

“Free dessert!” Lan Jingyi cheered like a war cry, causing Nie Huaisang to roll his eyes and Lan Sizhui to hit him and immediately start telling him off about shouting, sounding so much like Lan Qiren that Wei Ying instinctively flinched. 

“Be right back,” he called over his shoulder, practically retreating back toward the countertop and Wen Ning, who was already boxing up a handful of desserts.

Wen Ning gave him a sympathetic if slightly disappointed look as he slid the box across the counter toward him. “You’re in way too deep,” Wen Ning murmured, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. “Completely doomed.”

“Yup,” Wei Ying replied hopelessly, grabbing up the box of treats. He turned back around and grinned like nothing had happened as he handed the box to an overjoyed Lan Jingyi, who was already talking Nie Huaisang’s ear off about how hungry he was and how he wasn’t going to mention it but it was definitely becoming a problem. 

Lan Sizhui offered his profound thanks for the box of goods as the other started drifting toward the doors and out, debating on where to go next. Wei Ying waited for Lan Sizhui to join them—but he lingered, chewing on his lip as if he was dying to ask something.

Wei Ying wasn’t nearly as painfully polite. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lan Sizhui said automatically, and then shook his head. “I just—I’m glad you and Lan Zhan are getting along.”

There was something just slightly off about the tone of his voice, maybe a little bit in the way Lan Sizhui looked at him like he was hiding a cleverness behind that perfect politeness. Wei Ying smiled anyway, acting like he was absolutely clueless when instead he was fairly sure he had swallowed a giant ball of concrete.

He wished he knew why. (He wished he didn’t know exactly why.)

“Have a good day, Sizhui,” he said, firm and pointedly unbothered, and a grin banished any look of uncertainty on the youth’s face. Lan Sizhui quickly echoed the sentiment, waving to him as he backed toward the exit. And, despite everything, Wei Ying found himself genuinely waving back.

Wen Ning was right, but maybe for a different reason. He was definitely doomed—he liked the feeling of inclusion a little too much, liked the idea of people stopping by unexpectedly just to see him. Wei Ying was beginning to fall for the idea of having people out there who cared enough about him to extend their hello past a text message or a quick phone call; he was beginning to notice a feeling of acceptance, of feeling like he really belonged in this family’s good intentions despite how it was all a lie.

He kept forgetting, somehow, that it was all a lie.

So he waved back to Lan Sizhui, feeling like the biggest fraud of all, and trying very, very desperately not to think of all the things he was feeling guilty for.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Lan Zhan learned around his adolescence that the best time to slip out of his family’s home unnoticed was either at the morning’s earliest, when the family was nearly awake but not yet downstairs—or now, in the time right after everyone had already left, leaving the great big house hauntingly quiet and incredibly still. Lan Zhan heard every footstep echo up to the ceilings, bouncing around the corners.

He definitely should have been able to hear him before he saw him, but Lan Sizhui knew how to be sneaky when he needed to be. Lan Zhan was almost to the door when his voice piped up behind him, asking, “Can we talk?”

Lan Zhan turned. Lan Sizhui offered him his best nonthreatening smile, gesturing toward the same settee where Lan Zhan had seen Wei Ying perched that night, moonlight tangled in his hair. Lan Zhan didn’t hesitate, crossing the space to sink down next to Lan Sizhui, who angled himself at the opposite end, pointed toward him as if to read every reaction.

He felt suddenly cornered.

“I just wanted to talk,” Lan Sizhui assured him like he sensed that Lan Zhan was having second thoughts. “I haven’t really been able to catch you since—since Xichen-ge.”

Lan Zhan felt a wave of guilt. That was true—he had been avoiding his family as of late, his mind occupied with all of his responsibilities on top of the uncertainty of his brother’s situation. He’d felt like he was drifting, at some points, unsure of where to go or what to do. And Sizhui, the only other member of his family he was closest to other than his brother, likely had noticed even through the haze of his own crisis.

He owed him this and more. He sat up, meeting Lan Sizhui’s eyes with no small amount of guilt in how surprised Sizhui seemed in the reception of his request. “Of course. My apologies.”

Lan Sizhui shook his head.

He figured it could be a great many things on Sizhui’s mind, specifically when it came to Xichen and the disorder they had been in because of his absence, the way that every meal without him felt like trying to fit a circle inside of a square hole. He knew he should be more outwardly sympathetic, should make sure Sizhui knew that if he ever needed to talk then Lan Zhan always had the time to listen—

Sizhui said, “You and Wei Ying seem to be getting along.”

His mind came to a screeching halt. “Wei Ying?”

Lan Sizhui offered him a smile Lan Zhan did not at all know how to read. “Yeah! You even went out of your way to get to know him—he must have left an impression.”

“Sure,” Lan Zhan said, suddenly uncomfortable. He swallowed a little too loudly. “He seems… kind.”

A flash of amusement crossed Sizhui’s face. “Funny—he called you nice.”

Lan Zhan figured it wouldn’t be fair to be a little offended at the news, decided to take it like a pinprick to the finger rather than a knife to the heart. “You’ve seen him?”

“Yesterday.” Sizhui squinted slightly, as if paying quite a lot of attention to his face. “We were in the area. I couldn’t help but to say hi, especially after you told me about your walk.”

Lan Zhan knew Lan Sizhui almost as well as he knew his brother. Sizhui could never know him like Xichen, but Lan Zhan had been the one to beg their uncle to adopt Sizhui when his parents had passed, had pushed so adamantly toward bringing the orphaned Lans into their home even when he had been quite young himself at the time. Lan Zhan had always felt a little responsible for Sizhui, a sort of parent slightly removed. He had paid attention to him ever since he was very young and clinging to his legs, grinning with crooked teeth.

Lan Zhan knew Sizhui well, so he knew that look on his face. He knew exactly what to expect when Lan Sizhui leaned forward, a little guilty but a lot more curious as he confessed, “You know, I heard a little bit of your conversation that night. After Christmas.”

Pure cold washed over Lan Zhan, followed by a staggering guilt he desperately attempted to cast aside. He felt it rising up his throat like a scream, like he might be able to explain it all away into something that wasn’t so incriminating, something that didn’t taste so much like betrayal.

“Sizhui,” he choked out instead.

“It wasn’t much!” the youth cried, raising his hands in a move of innocence as if Lan Zhan wasn’t the most guilty party, as if he never should have stepped so close to a man whose eyes danced like a solar eclipse. “I swear,” Sizhui continued, snapping Lan Zhan out of a fantasy that did not belong to him. “I thought I heard your car so I crept down to see if I could find you, and then heard you two talking. I didn’t really even hear what you said—I was just surprised. You seem to like him.”

“I’m curious about him,” Lan Zhan replied. It sounded like a lie, even if it was a shameful truth. “I didn’t expect my brother to be dating a man like that.”

Lan Sizhui’s voice was so soft when he murmured, “Is that because he seemed more like someone you might like?”

Lan Zhan—froze. He wanted to throw up and take off in a sprint and never come back; he felt shame and horror and a cold, blinding terror. A part of him wanted to beg Lan Sizhui into complete silence and the other wanted him to sit there in his weakness, to feel the pressure of those horrible feelings and realize that they were caused by him. 

He wanted to run out of the room. He wanted to run all the way to the hospital and apologize to a man who could not even hear him, a man he trusted more than he even trusted himself.

Lan Zhan felt, horribly, like he might cry when he choked out again, “Sizhui.”

Lan Sizhui reached out and grabbed his shoulders like he could at least a little bit read Lan Zhan’s mind, his eyes wide. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like—like an accusation or something. I’m not blaming you for anything.”

“How?” Lan Zhan managed. Sizhui squeezed his arms just a little tighter, looking… guilty.

“How you looked at him, in the hospital that first day,” he admitted softly, as if worried he would be heard. “How you spoke to him, that night. How you went to see him, even though you act like you don’t trust him.”

Lan Zhan felt sick. He looked away sharply, hoping and praying that Sizhui could not read anything more in his expressions, in the look in his eyes.

“It’s not like that,” he pleaded, soft and sad. He swallowed hard. “I didn’t—I would never—”

“Oh, Zhan-ge,” Lan Sizhui murmured. He scooted across the settee until he could lean over and put his head on Lan Zhan’s shoulder, curling into his side like a sleepy cat. “I’m not judging you, not even a little. I swear.”

Lan Zhan was not a stranger to feeling as though he blinked and months flew by, but he’d never been struck so suddenly and certainly about how much Lan Sizhui had grown up. Sizhui was still young and growing but it was a bone-deep ache to realize just how much he had grown and matured, as if he nearly expected to look over to his side and find little A-Yuan grinning up at him, a toddler who had clung to him like Lan Zhan was his hero, like anyone had ever thought Lan Zhan could be a hero.

Somehow, he’d blinked and Lan Sizhui was nearly an adult person, polite and kind and with the biggest heart Lan Zhan had ever seen. He felt a burn of pride, a little of sorrow. He reached up and ran a shaking hand through Sizhui’s hair and wondered when and how his beloved Sizhui had learned what love looked like.

It wasn’t always easy, in their family. The Lans loved fiercely and without apology, romantics since the very beginning of time. Lan Zhan knew it wasn’t his fault, falling for someone who left so much space around him for Lan Zhan to fit into. Lan Zhan knew he could not feel shame for something that he had not walked into with purpose, something he had felt blindly and suddenly and like the world had finally turned right-side up.

Lan Zhan loved his brother more than anything. He would do anything for him. Even this.

Lan Zhan would learn how to live with it. He would, because he did not have any other choice.

Maybe it felt a little less lonely, knowing Sizhui had seen the hints of it. Sizhui knew him so well—it was definitely a little freeing to know that, although nothing could ever come of it, he had not blindly and fully fallen for Wei Ying out of sight. It felt just a little bit better to know there had been a witness, that someone else would remember the part of his history where Lan Zhan looked at Wei Ying and thought suddenly, foolishly, there you are.

He could not. He would not.

“I am glad,” Lan Zhan murmured, “that my brother will be happy.”

He felt Sizhui flinch. Felt the way he took a deep breath in, and out.

“You don’t know that,” Lan Sizhui murmured, and then halfheartedly joked, “Where was this warm reception when he brought Meng Yao home, huh?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You threatened to slit his throat with a butterknife.”

Lan Zhan bit back a smile, bit back the sour things in his chest. “He was making me angry.”

Lan Sizhui laughed, leaning off and away. Lan Zhan let him go, let Sizhui retreat back to his side of the settee and did not reach out to pull him back, even if a little part of him wanted to. Lan Sizhui met his eyes across the space and he was so sad. So grown up and real and kind.

“It’ll work itself out,” Lan Sizhui promised, and Lan Zhan bit back the chastisement of never promising people something he could not guarantee. Sizhui offered him another smile, quiet and sincere, and it was so much like Xichen’s that Lan Zhan felt it like a hole punched through his stomach. And maybe Sizhui still was a little young because he added, “These things always do, right?” 

Lan Zhan felt raw, chafed with shame and a storm of emotions he couldn’t bring himself to accept and understand. He was plagued with a situation that was doomed to hurt, a reality that would not have a happy ending. 

He had to walk away but he couldn’t stand the ache in his ribs at the thought of never seeing Wei Ying again, of walking out of his life as if he had never been there. He could not let this situation get more complicated and tangled and ugly but he wanted to go to him when he wasn’t there, wanted to walk back into that little cafe and memorize the surprised, happy smile on Wei Ying’s face when he saw it was him.

Lan Zhan could covet those little pieces, he decided. He resigned himself to that uncertain limbo, wandering through the rest of his years yearning for a man that has chosen someone else.

He hoped he learned how to live with it.

“Of course they do,” Lan Zhan assured Sizhui, flooded with a hopeless grief and a subtle acceptance, and he wondered if this was the first time he had ever lied to him.

Chapter Text

The days passed in a steady rhythm not unlike the way things had been before, a routine of constant forward momentum. Wei Ying had missed the structure of it, just a little bit, but he couldn’t help but to notice that no familiar faces walked into the cafe, that no text messages slipped into his inbox. He spent hours pacing the halls of a hospital; he pulled in overtime at the cafe, scrubbing at counters and floors until his knees ached and his shoulders popped.

It was easier, with a routine. Wei Ying was only a little bitter about it. He only missed the chaos a little bit, just enough for his head to shoot up every time someone walked into the cafe, hope sinking deep into his chest like a stain he would never quite get out.

He kept himself busy, kept himself looking toward future events like a lifeline in an attempt to distract himself from the fake boyfriend in a coma. He kept himself distracted until suddenly the days had passed and it was New Years Eve, the streets alive and the air electric.

The Wen siblings had hosted a New Years party ever since he had known them, an open-door invite to any family and friends interested in attending. And Wei Ying, never the one to turn down an occasion with a surplus of alcohol, had been sure to never miss one.

So that was how he found himself walking down the street with his arms full of food plates and bottles of champagne and wine, humming under his breath as nighttime chased away the last hints of twilight in the sky. He was so preoccupied with keeping his balance, from making sure not to drop anything, that he almost didn’t notice the car on the street slowing down, coming up behind him.

Wei Ying rolled his eyes up to the sky, waiting for a cat-call or to fling the finger foods at the nearest assailant and start running, when he heard his name in a familiar voice: “Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying whirled around, surprised and nearly losing track of a bottle of wine in the process. He caught sight of the man in the car window and felt too much all at once, but it was shock that colored his voice when he exclaimed, mostly in reflex, “Oh! Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan stared back at him from inside of what appeared to be an incredibly fancy, possibly hybridized, car. He took in the plates and the bottles before his eyes snapped back up to Wei Ying’s, brows raised a fraction. “My apologies if I startled you.”

“No worries!” Wei Ying assured him even though moments before he had been deciding whether to smash the prosecco bottle or the pinot grigio over a potential attacker’s head. He drifted a few steps closer to the curb, eyeing up the car. “Ooh, what a fancy car, Lan Zhan! Are you on your way to a party? It’s New Years Eve, after all.”

“I was on my way to the hospital, actually,” Lan Zhan said with that same matter-of-fact, deadpan tone that made amusement pull at the corners of his lips every single time. “Do you need any help?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Wei Ying told him, smothering the part of himself that wanted to cry a little at exactly how many blocks he still had to walk with all of these things that were only getting heavier. He grinned over at Lan Zhan, pretending like he didn’t even notice how ridiculous he must look.

Lan Zhan stared back and seemed to take a moment to calculate the situation. And then he said, slowly and maybe a little reluctantly, “Allow me to give you a ride.”

Hysteria bubbled in his throat. “Oh, that’s not necessary,” Wei Ying choked out, and because he had a big dumb mouth added, “It’s only another forty blocks or so!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, stern and maybe a little amused and maybe a little too otherworldly, catching him unawares in his own neighborhood wearing a blue tie and earnest eyes.

And maybe it wouldn’t have been a problem if it was pretty much anyone else—actually, it definitely wouldn’t have been a problem. But ever since the Lan boys and Nie Huaisang had dropped by unexpectedly, ever since Lan Sizhui so gently planted the idea in his mind that Lan Zhan was fond of him for some truly mysterious reason, Wei Ying had been… thinking—and, far too often, the subject just happened to be this man in front of him, someone who always showed up out of the blue just when Wei Ying didn’t know he needed him.

Wei Ying didn’t dislike Lan Zhan—that was the problem, honestly. He couldn’t help but to like this strange man who didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands sometimes, who acted like he walked straight out of an old timey romance novel and ended up crossing destinies with a loser like him, who quite literally washed up onto the shores of Lan Zhan’s life sopping wet, suffering from hypothermia, and probably smelling like stagnant river.

The problem wasn’t Lan Zhan. It was that Wei Ying couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Wei Ying knew well the great, long list of his mistakes. He could read them like a road map, find the exact ones that brought him here to this spot. He could see the way ahead and he knew, deep in his bones, that if he was not careful, that roadblock might have Lan Zhan’s eyes.

He had half a second to decide. Before he’d even made the conscious decision to, he was already walking toward Lan Zhan’s car.

He left the foot piled neatly on the backseat, wine bottles buckled in for good measure and because, as he explained to Lan Zhan, he was no foolish peasant. He settled into the soft leather of the front passenger seat and said, “Wow, this is definitely a nice car, Lan Zhan! I shouldn’t be surprised, after seeing your family home, haha. Wait, is there a heater in this seat?”

Lan Zhan put the car back in drive and without a single glance, pressed a button on the center control panel. Instantly, Wei Ying felt the heat on his backside, which was at once the worst sensation and also the absolute best thing to ever happen to him.

“So this is how the other half lives,” Wei Ying joked. When it didn’t get even a miniscule response, he looked up at Lan Zhan, grinning when he found him already staring at him. “I’m just teasing, Lan Zhan! You always look so serious—it makes me want to bug you just for a reaction!”

Wei Ying wondered if Lan Zhan would notice if he punched himself in the mouth. Since the other man hadn’t looked away from him since the moment he got in the car, he doubted it. He managed to hold in the self-hatred, turning his own gaze to the window, watching the blocks he no longer had to walk pass by.

After a long moment of silence—Wei Ying could not imagine the idea of driving to the soundtrack of absolutely nothing, not even a podcast—Lan Zhan hesitantly asked, “Are you… going to a party?”

Wei Ying swiveled his head back toward the drivers’ seat. Lan Zhan’s hands were still casual on the wheel, his eyes facing forward, but Wei Ying could have sworn the lobes of his ears were a faint pink. How charming.

“Now, Lan Zhan,” he teased, “I hope you don’t mind that I’m going out instead of going to the hospital.”

“I don’t mind,” Lan Zhan replied, sounding almost a little hurt at the implication. Wei Ying tried to hide his smile, turning his head more to the window. “I’m sure you could use a break.”

Wei Ying suddenly felt oddly guilty, a little more like the fake he already knew he was. He cleared his throat, forcing the ball of anxiety back down into his chest.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” he said because it was not a lie, and shook his head. “But enough about that stuff, Lan Zhan, it’s almost a new year! New starts, new things to do. Speaking of things to do, you’re gonna need to turn left in three blocks. I’m heading to Wen Ning’s. Him and his sister—Wen Qing, she’s the doctor, I’m sure you remember her—always host a party, it’s very fun. I’m surprised your family doesn’t have their own party.”

“They do,” Lan Zhan informed him. “Though it typically ends early. My family are early risers.”

“Wait, they have a party? Why aren’t you going?”

Lan Zhan suddenly looked uncomfortable, maybe a little embarrassed. He paused before answering, using the upcoming turn onto a new street like an excuse. Wei Ying remembered the way Lan Zhan had been so careful to sneak into the house on Christmas after he was sure everyone had fallen asleep, how he hadn’t seen Lan Zhan together with his family since that first day in the hospital room. He wished he could walk backward a minute in time and ask this man literally anything else.

But because he’s actually a saint, Lan Zhan simply replied, “I didn’t want to.”

Only a moron might’ve believed him. Thankfully, Wei Ying was very okay with playing the village idiot.

“Fair enough!” he said, pretending very much like he hadn’t noticed the hesitation. If he’d learned anything in his life, it was that family drama rarely improved when he stuck his nose into it. “Well, if you wanna come to the Wens’, consider this your invitation! I know you’re heading to the hospital and all, but--”

“Okay,” Lan Zhan replied in a very rare show of impoliteness, interrupting before Wei Ying could even figure out where the end of that sentence was going to land. He looked vaguely embarrassed when he realized his slight but Wei Ying grinned over at him, ignoring the manic anxiety and excitement bubbling up somewhere deep in his stomach.

“Great! You seem like the kind of person who needs a break every once in a while. Not that you’re uptight or anything! Well, okay, you kind of are, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Lan Zhan, I’m going to need you to tell me to stop talking or I might never.”

Lan Zhan hummed, amused, and the smallest smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. Wei Ying felt a full rush of adrenaline when he spotted it; he was so distracted by his own sense of accomplishment that he almost didn’t notice they were about to pass Wen Ning’s apartment building.

After encouraging him into a slim parking spot at the curb just around the corner (“Come on, Lan Zhan, you can do it! It’ll be better than even more walking, won’t it?”), Wei Ying piled both their arms with the foodstuffs and led the way into the building.

Wen Ning and his sister lived in a nice building downtown, closer to the hospital and the cafe. Wei Ying had been there enough times that he guided Lan Zhan there by memory, chatting about a whole lot of nothing as the elevator zipped them upwards a dozen or so floors and trying to ignore the mix of uncertainty and excitement buzzing under his skin. 

Logically, even as he stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the tiny elevator, eyes on the strong line of Lan Zhan’s jaw, Wei Ying knew that this was an absolutely terrible idea.

Why couldn’t he leave this guy alone? Lan Zhan tended to show up in his life when he least expected it, sure, but Wei Ying knew he didn’t have to flock to him when he did. Lan Zhan was a nice person, maybe a bit of a strange one. He had a cold exterior but a clearly strong love for his family, not to mention a need to protect them. His brother was in a coma and yet here Lan Zhan was, riding an elevator to go to a party just because Wei Ying asked him to.

It was… dangerous, maybe. It reminded Wei Ying of the way Lan Sizhui had looked at him, how the teenager had told him very carefully that Lan Zhan clearly liked him.

Wei Ying was already a gigantic thief, stealing moments and company from this family. He knew he should put a distance between them, and yet. And yet.

The doors to the elevator slid open and Wei Ying wished so, so much that things could be different. That he hadn’t lied. That he wasn’t so much of a coward.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said and he knew he would never find someone else who said his name like that. He put his foot out to stop the elevator doors from closing again, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Wei Ying felt his entire face turn red. “Whoops!” he chirped, and then practically threw himself into the hallway in abject embarrassment.

Wen Ning’s apartment would have been easy to find for anyone who hadn’t been there before, balloons on the door and the soft pulse of music radiating from inside. Lan Zhan stepped forward to get the door, despite probably actually holding more heavy things than Wei Ying was, and was rewarded with a big smile for his efforts.

The Wen siblings’ parties were rarely ragers—the Wens leaned toward more of an adults-at-a-dinner-party type of vibe, just with more music and a lot less sitting. Wei Ying always liked going to them, always felt a little relieved that he was invited at all. He had long outgrown long nights of wild drinking but these types of gatherings always managed to scratch an itch he couldn’t reach.

Growing up was a rollercoaster. Who knew?

Wei Ying set his armful of foodstuffs onto the kitchen counter, explaining to Lan Zhan over his shoulder and pitched a little louder for the music, “It’s a fun way to meet people, don’t you think?”

“I don’t really go to parties,” Lan Zhan confessed as if his clear discomfort was at all a secret. He eyed the groups milling about the apartment, laughing familiarly and clumped into small clusters. “I’m not one for… crowds.”

“There’s like thirty people here,” Wei Ying replied, but still added, “If you want to leave—”

Lan Zhan shook his head, oddly staunch in his determination to stay. Wei Ying hated how he found the stubbornness a little funny, a little endearing.

Wei Ying took Lan Zhan’s arm in both of his own and, certain the sharp inhalation was imaginary idealism, dragged the other man with him toward the living room.

There was a point where Wei Ying loved to be the center of attention in a room, where he found it impossible to fade into the background. He was still good at being noticed but he had at least outgrown the phase where he needed to do dumb things in order to be the life of the party. It made it a little easier to hover there on the corners of the room, hanging off Lan Zhan like he had any right to do so, and watched Lan Zhan soberly take in every detail of the room like he was studying for an exam.

“Do you know most of these people?”

“Some,” Wei Ying admitted. “The Wens invite some of the same cousins and friends. I don’t know them very well, though.”

“They seem kind, the Wens.”

“They are. Wen Qing seems a little strict on the outside but she’s really just as nice as her brother.”

Lan Zhan nodded sagely. “I noticed that. At the hospital.”

“She’s a good doctor,” Wei Ying agreed. “Not that she’s ever been mine or anything, but she’s definitely taken care of me an inordinate amount.”

“Unfortunately,” Wen Qing muttered, appearing suddenly at his unoccupied shoulder. Wei Ying let out a very dignified scream of fright. Wen Qing ignored him in favor of giving Lan Zhan a long once over, expressions perfectly controlled. “Well, I can certainly say it’s unexpected to see you here.”

“He gave me a ride,” Wei Ying explained, and then quickly added, “Here. In his car.”

Wen Qing gave him a withering side-eye. Wei Ying pretended like his organs weren’t failing, especially his brain.

“Enlightening,” Wen Qing replied dryly. She took a sip of her soft drink, eyeing Wei Ying over the rim of her cup.

Wei Ying made an effort not to look like he was sweating. “So! Wen Qing! It’s been so long since we last met. How have you been?”

“Tired,” she replied. “I’ve been at the hospital for a few days straight. It was a miracle they let me come here for the party, even if I’m on call.” She wiggled the soda cup in explanation, and then sighed before taking a drink.

“Ah, the burden of saving lives,” Wei Ying teased, nudging the man beside him. “Huh, Lan Zhan? It must be exhausting being so cool and smart and important.”

“Of course,” Lan Zhan agreed dutifully.

Wen Qing looked between them, eyebrows up. But still, as if realizing it would be far too obvious to ask, she simply rolled her eyes and bowed theatrically, as if expecting a round of applause. 

“I’ll let you two get back to—” she vaguely gestured between them “—whatever this is. Enjoy the party.”

She wandered off without another word. Wei Ying wished he was a strong enough man to send a snarky reply to her back but he simply was not, and would never dare for fear of retribution. He did his best to pretend as though he didn’t notice a single implication, as if places where his body touched Lan Zhan’s wasn’t getting incredibly warmer with every passing moment.

He ignored the weight of Lan Zhan’s eyes on him as he pulled them toward where Wen Ning was refilling the punch bowl on the other side of the room. Wen Ning glanced up and smiled, and then his eyes traveled over Wei Ying’s shoulder and started to curve as wide as dinner plates.

“Oh,” Wen Ning said as they approached, and Wei Ying wanted to run up and slap a hand over his mouth as his friend added, as if without realizing, “Oh, wow, okay. Uh. Welcome? Yes, welcome.”

Wei Ying had so many regrets. “Is that punch alcoholic?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” But his eyes hadn’t left Lan Zhan, and his stunned expression hadn’t quite faded away. “How did…”

“I would like a cup of your finest punch, please,” Wei Ying said, and then turned to Lan Zhan. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized the man was already looking at him, calm but intent, head tilted just slightly to the side like he was trying to figure something out. “Lan Zhan, do you want anything?”

Lan Zhan shook his head no. Wei Ying grabbed him a bottle of water anyway before pulling him off back toward the corner of the room, far enough away from Wen Ning that his closest friend couldn’t ask him any questions with very clear implications in this already absolutely surreal scenario.

“Your family must miss you tonight,” Wei Ying commented even though he knew he shouldn’t, but today was weird and he was drinking too-strong punch, and something was sitting so insanely wrong in his chest. Lan Zhan glanced over, the angles of his face defined so pretty in the dim lightning.

Lan Zhan looked down at his water bottle, considering that. “Perhaps. I have been… inaccessible lately.”

“Inaccessible? What do you mean?”

“My brother,” Lan Zhan said, and then suddenly stopped. Wei Ying wished he hadn’t asked. “It’s been a complicated situation, to say the least. I’ve found it easier to be occupied in my work.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“Hm,” Lan Zhan said, golden eyes flickering back to him. “Aren’t many things?”

Wei Ying wanted to open his mouth and argue. He wanted to smile and laugh and lean against him a little harder, wanted to blame a single drink for flirtations at the tip of his tongue. He wanted to sweep his arm across the room of people and ask how someone could be lonely like this? 

But—wasn’t it?

Things had been different since Lan Xichen hit the water. Wei Ying had been running from a lot of things for a long time, had settled into a sinking feeling of acceptance and indifference for those things, and he could feel himself slowing down. He hadn’t realized, somehow, how long and far he had been running. He didn’t realize his feet, his knees could ache so badly.

Wei Ying was incredibly, incredibly tired.

He was tired of being content. He was tired of missing the things he left behind, and far more tired of thinking that he had to. He was tired of lying awake at night, knowing he kept all the phone numbers but knowing better than to ever dare. 

He was tired of things not working out the way he wanted them to. Fate had led him to his perfect man but it was not the one who he pretended to know, the one in the hospital bed who would someday wake up and make him face the long string of lies that he had told on his way to being accepted by a family of complete strangers. 

He was so tired, so angry, that he was standing next to Lan Zhan, pretending to be happy even though he wanted to reach his hand out. He wanted to know what Lan Zhan’s fingers felt like on the curve of his elbow, in the divot of his collarbone.

Wei Ying was heavy. He was sad, maybe.

He was definitely lonely. He was standing in a crowded living room, two inches away from the manifestation of his wildest dreams, and he was so fucking lonely.

It was an ache. Wei Ying felt his limbs get heavier and his throat get thicker, a panic attack and a pity party.

It was suffocating. Isolating. How could a person stand in the middle of a party and feel so alone, how could he have gained so much and still feel as though he had lost everything?

He suddenly wanted to be anywhere else. He wanted—

“Lan Zhan,” he murmured, leaning sideways into the man’s solid warmth, his golden eyes and the way the corners of his mouth softened just a little bit when Wei Ying looked at him. “Lan Zhan, would you hate me even a little bit if I said I wanted to leave?”

There was curiosity in those eyes, but far more worry. His voice held no judgement when he murmured, just as quiet, “Never.”

It was lonely, but at least there was this. Temporary, uncertain—there and gone like a dream, like an imagination that did not know its limits or the consequences.

Wei Ying knew classic love stories but he knew all about the tragedies, too, the ones that went down in flames with blood on their hands and loss in their hearts. He knew how this would end, but he still took Lan Zhan’s hand in his own. He still relished the flicker of surprise in Lan Zhan’s eyes when their palms touched, warm and soft.

Lan Zhan didn’t say a word as Wei Ying led him away, back down the elevator and onto the street, which had only seemed to get colder. He didn’t stop moving until they were standing in front of Lan Zhan’s car—and there was a problem.

“No way,” Wei Ying said, staring at the car—and the new car parked behind it, so close to Lan Zhan’s bumper that it was a miracle they weren’t touching at all. Wei Ying looked to the car in front of his, which was almost just as close. “How? We weren’t even gone that long. What are the odds?”

Lan Zhan looked to the car and then closed his eyes for just a moment too long. If it wasn’t impossible, Wei Ying almost wondered if he was praying for patience—or perhaps in thanks. 

“I’m so sorry,” Wei Ying replied, guilty and feeling a little silly, and perhaps a little dizzy from the gentleness of the fingers tangled in his. “Let me call you a cab—”

At the same time, Lan Zhan said, “Let me walk you home.”

They looked at each other.

It was a bad idea. They both had to know it, unless Wei Ying was operating more in his head than he even thought he was. But Lan Zhan hadn’t let go of his hand, had followed him upstairs to that party even though he was skipping his own family’s. There was a weight around Wei Ying’s neck and he knew it was an albatross but he simply couldn’t resist.

He nodded, wordless and a little uncertain. Lan Zhan oh-so gently pulled his hand away and tucked it into the pockets of his jacket.

At first it was quiet, awkward. Wei Ying could hear every step they made, the crunch of the ice under their boots loud despite how Lan Zhan moved beside him so quietly it was like he was a ghost. Wei Ying wondered if he was even breathing.

After a few blocks, when the pressure in his chest was too much to bear and the silence proved to be unbearable, he asked, “What’s your job like?”

Lan Zhan glanced over to meet his gaze. He looked beautiful, otherworldly in the glow of the streetlights they passed under. Wei Ying almost wanted to reach out and touch him, just to make sure he was real. “My job?”

“Yup. That thing you do for money. The school thing.”

“The conservatory,” Lan Zhan corrected, but there was a dance of amusement in his tone. “I’m the director of the programs. I help my uncle with paperwork and admissions and scholarship information. Occasionally I teach.”

“Tell me about that.”

Lan Zhan hesitated as if suddenly bashful. “I… found comfort in music when I was young. I learned every instrument I could get my hands on, which was a fair share of them considering my family connections. I fill in on lessons when instructors are unavailable. I find it much more enjoyable than the paperwork.”

“Why don’t you teach more often?”

“My uncle needs help in the administration duties.”

Wei Ying squinted at him. “That’s not fair at all!”

“It’s my duty,” Lan Zhan argued, sounding only a little insulted. “Once my brother expressed he would prefer law school, my uncle had no help. And I love the conservatory. It’s never bothered me.”

“You can have all of that while also doing the part of the job that makes you happy, you know.”

He didn’t reply immediately. Wei Ying wondered if he had irritated him, but Lan Zhan simply sounded thoughtful when he countered, “Why do you have your job in the cafe?”

“I didn’t have much choice,” Wei Ying admitted with a shrug. “I was a little desperate for money at the time. But I like Wen Ning, and I like helping him out. Maybe it’s not exactly where I thought I would be five years ago, but it’s not all that bad, you know? It’s not rescuing kittens from trees but somebody’s gotta do it.”

“Mm,” Lan Zhan said.

They fell off into another fragile silence. Wei Ying counted thirty-three steps in the snow before he said, trying to sound teasing and nonchalant and failing, “I’m sure you want to ask what happened back there, huh?”

There was a long exhale from his right. “It’s not my place to ask.”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “You were there.”

Lan Zhan didn’t respond.

After a handful of more breaths, Wei Ying confessed, “You were right, I guess. About the loneliness. It suddenly felt like I could disappear and nobody would’ve even known I was there. Like I could walk out of my own life and only a handful of people would ever miss my place in theirs.”

“That’s not true,” Lan Zhan said, tone surprisingly distressed. 

“I know,” Wei Ying quickly assured him, but the line between his brows didn’t relax. “It’s not new, feeling lonely. I don’t know why it’s getting to me tonight of all nights.”

“Because it matters,” Lan Zhan told him softly, warm eyes and whole heart. “Because sometimes it’s hard to stand in the middle of a room full of people and know you could say something and not a single person would hear it.”

It was—startling, to hear such raw emotions from a man who wore none of them on his face. But boy if Wei Ying’s heart didn’t break a little bit at the soft, worn sadness in Lan Zhan’s voice.

His voice was soft when he spoke again. “Even with that great big family of yours?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan murmured under streetlight and starlight. “Especially there, with so many big personalities. I’ve always been quiet, shy. My brother was the one who made it all bearable. Sometimes it was as if he was the only one who ever noticed I was there, who always made sure the others did too.”

“Is that why you didn’t go to the Christmas dinner?”

Lan Zhan swallowed and looked down at his feet. Wei Ying felt his heart shatter.

“Well,” Wei Ying murmured, “I would’ve noticed you. I think I’d always notice you.”

He thought it would’ve made him feel better but, instead, Lan Zhan flinched.

The blocks passed painfully slowly, especially as the silence grew. Every once in a while, they passed apartments with the thrum of music and chatter, laughter spilling out onto the street. It felt odd to think of celebrating, despite how Wei Ying had spent the whole day planning out a night that didn’t work out. It felt so strange to think that there were people in the world who could raise their glasses and call out in welcome to the new, the next.

He suddenly couldn’t imagine a different New Years Eve night if it wasn’t walking in the dark with this man.

And maybe that was the reason he whispered, “Lan Zhan, can I tell you something that only a few people know?”

Lan Zhan was so beautiful like this—shadows and lines, sure steps and unexpectedly vulnerable. “Of course,” he said, and Wei Ying swallowed the feeling of guilt and greed building in his throat.

He took a deep breath, facing forward because he couldn’t bear whatever expression would split across Lan Zhan’s face when he told him, “I used to have a big family.”

It wasn’t exactly what he had wanted to say. He’d wanted to confess everything about the ruse right there, to open up his ribcage and let it all spill out onto the snow, blood and guts and guilt. It might’ve been self-preservation if Wei Ying hadn’t been thinking about this all night—if family hadn’t been the only thing he’d been able to think about for weeks now. He swallowed hard but once he’d started talking, he couldn’t even begin to know where to stop.

“My parents died when I was young,” he confessed to the night air, to a boy with beautiful eyes. “Their closest friends took me in. They had two kids already, and one of them was almost my exact age. I grew up with them, but it was never quite right. My adopted mother despised me. She hated my mother—later, I found out there was a rumor that my adopted father had been in love with her, long ago. So I guess she took it all out on me, and it made all of us miserable. My brother was constantly compared to me, and my sister was yelled at if she showed me too much attention. It was my family but it was like walking on eggshells. I went home and it felt like walking onto a battlefield littered with landmines. The older we got, the worse it got.”

Wei Ying kicked the slush on the ground. Let the cold water splash up onto his pants and didn’t let a drop touch Lan Zhan.

“So I left,” he whispered. “Just walked out the front door and never went back. Didn’t even leave a note.”

He laughed, just a little.

“I wouldn’t be welcomed back anyway, even if I tried. Staying would have just made them hate me more than they already did. There was never room for me there.”

“They were your family,” Lan Zhan replied and he sounded almost enraged, almost insulted. His voice practically shook as he said, “They should have never treated you like that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Wei Ying told him as if it didn’t hurt like it was yesterday. “It’s best that I’m on my own, anyway. My auntie used to say that I bring ruin on good things and sometimes I think she’s right.”

A strong hand on his wrist pulled him to a sudden stop. He turned toward Lan Zhan, startled, to find him staring him down, anger pulled tight on the lines of his face. His jaw clenched, eyes alive with fury, and Wei Ying barely had the time to be startled before Lan Zhan told him sternly, “That’s not true, either. You don’t ruin anything.”

Weakly, Wei Ying said, “Your brother is in a coma.”

“My brother,” Lan Zhan said slowly, “would be dead if you hadn’t been there to save him. I, for one, cannot fathom a world without him in it. It was not ruin that brought you into my life, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying’s throat was deathly dry. His head spun and he wished he could blame it on alcohol.

“Lan Zhan,” he choked out.

Lan Zhan’s hands tightened on his arms even as his face relaxed, rage leaking away from him the longer Wei Ying held his gaze. One hand drifted a little further up, over Wei Ying’s elbow and toward his shoulder. It didn’t even seem like Lan Zhan noticed, his gaze unwavering and the tightness of his mouth loosening.

“You are more than they could ever fathom,” Lan Zhan told him softly, confidently. He squeezed again. “You are more than you are even willing to admit, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying wanted to kiss him. He wanted—

“If I’ve never thanked you before,” Lan Zhan murmured, “then thank you, Wei Ying. For everything you’ve ever done and more.”

Suddenly, horribly, he felt like he might cry. Lan Zhan looked so sincere, looked at him like he meant it—and of course it was sincere, because Lan Zhan was not the kind of man to say something that he didn’t mean. It felt like that first big breath of air after diving into the canal, felt like the relief of realizing the man he’d jumped in after was still breathing.

It was a life preserve on the open seas. A kindness few would extend.

Wei Ying closed that one step between them, wrapped his arms tight around Lan Zhan’s waist. He felt Lan Zhan’s breath catch in the chest under his, felt the hint of a shudder roll through him—and then Lan Zhan was embracing him back, tight and warm because he meant it. Wei Ying buried his face in Lan Zhan’s shoulder and breathed in deep.

Lan Zhan shifted, maybe to hold him closer or maybe to step away—but just as surely, Wei Ying felt the ground slip beneath his feet. Before he knew it, he and Lan Zhan were landing in a heap on the ground.

Poor Lan Zhan took the brunt of the fall as Wei Ying fell directly on top of him, chest to chest. He felt a gasp rip out of him at the exact moment Lan Zhan acted on instinct and tightened his grip on him, keeping him on his chest and from sprawling sideways onto the ground. For a moment, Wei Ying simply froze there, his brain trying to catch up.

And then he burst out laughing.

“Lan Zhan, I am so sorry,” he laughed as the man under him breathed in deeply, like his breath had been fully knocked from his lungs. “I landed square on you, too.”

Lan Zhan let out a huff like a laugh. It brushed across Wei Ying’s hair, skittered along the back of his neck. “Are you alright?”

“Perfect,” Wei Ying laughed, and then looked up. “Are you—”

All coherent thought left his brain.

Their faces were so close, far closer than he thought they would be. He could see every fleck of golden amber in Lan Zhan’s eyes, could practically see his own reflection. Lan Zhan breathed out, equally as surprised, and Wei Ying felt it brush against his lips. Felt himself glancing down, noticing the bow of his lips and the way they parted just slightly when Lan Zhan noticed he was looking.

It would be so, so easy. Effortless. That breath of glorious fresh air. 

Lan Zhan rocked forward, just slightly. His eyes flickered down to Wei Ying’s lips for one moment. Two.

He wanted, he wanted, he wanted—

And then he remembered.

He shoved himself hard off of Lan Zhan, sending himself rolling gracelessly into the snow. His entire body felt freezing cold like he was in that canal again, his lips frozen and moving without his permission when he found himself babbling. “Lan Zhan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t—”

Lan Zhan sat up and stared at him, eyes wild. His hair was messy and, for a moment, his expression looked so disappointed. And then he remembered too, finally looked at Wei Ying and remembered the man in the hospital bed, and his eyes flew wide. Lan Zhan looked like one sudden move might send him skittering out of his skin. Wei Ying didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or if he wanted to cry.

And then Lan Zhan looked away, sudden and sharp as if he had been burned by an open flame, and Wei Ying had no idea how to breathe through it.

“I’m sorry,” Wei Ying murmured, swallowing hard. “Lan Zhan, I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Lan Zhan replied, but it was too robotic. “That was purely my fault. My apologies.”

“Lan Zhan,” he replied, but he didn’t know what for. Maybe it was a little because he could feel Lan Zhan pulling away from him, inch by inch as he retreated back into himself. Maybe it was because Wei Ying felt like he was standing on splintering ice in the middle of an ocean and he didn’t know which way was the fastest to shore. He didn’t know which way led to making this all okay again, didn’t know what he had to do to make that flat emotion leave Lan Zhan’s face and let the light in.

But it was too late—Wei Ying couldn’t see even a small piece of the man who had confessed to loneliness under the lamplight of the night streets, who didn’t even slightly resemble the man he’d met in the moonlight on Christmas. Lan Zhan pushed himself onto his feet and straightened up a stranger.

Lan Zhan mechanically held out a hand to help Wei Ying up. Wei Ying ignored it, pushed himself up onto his feet with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He wished he would have reached out. If it would have led to this anyway, a part of him wished he had been selfish and greedy, wished he’d closed the distance and tried for something more than he was allowed. He wished he’d been brave enough to ask for a new destiny, to beg for it on his hands and knees.

Wei Ying had done this, all of this. Lan Zhan had a false idea of the stakes because Wei Ying had held on to a stupid, useless lie. 

It was his fault. It was always, always his fault.

Lan Zhan eyed him, ice cold, unreadable. Wei Ying really wished he would just walk away. “Do you need a cab?” Lan Zhan asked him, voice surprisingly quiet. Wei Ying felt like he had swallowed a thousand knives.

He shook his head, shoving his hands into his pockets and refusing to look back up at Lan Zhan’s face. 

For just a movement, they were quiet, suspended in an impossible situation. For just a blink, one heartbeat, Wei Ying realized that he could step forward. He could shatter the uncertainty and reach for what he wanted anyway. He was one terrible truth away from everything that he always wanted and a part of him was ready to open his mouth and accept every single consequence.

Except the moment passed, and he didn’t. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pushed down the drowning regret and all of the things he didn’t say. He thought he felt Lan Zhan step forward but when his eyes opened again, he was fairly sure the man hadn’t moved at all.

“Goodnight, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying murmured, lost and more than a little sad. He tried to smile, felt it pull fake and plastic at his eyes. “Happy New Year.”

He turned and walked away, back toward his apartment and his cat, and he told himself he would not look back. He wouldn’t. He had broken something precious, a self-fulfilling prophecy of ruin. He would not look back and see if Lan Zhan was watching him leave, wouldn’t let himself believe—

He looked back.

Lan Zhan was walking in the opposite direction, his head down against the chill and his shoulders curled inward, braced for impact. He looked lonely, in the halo of the streetlights. He looked sad from all the way back here.

Wei Ying looked away, back down to his feet, and did not look back again—did not think of what he had chanced, what he had lost, and all of the gilded things he would never have.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Lan Zhan walked for long enough that his lips had turned numb. 

He hadn’t walked that way on foot before but he still managed to find his way to the hospital, slogging through the snow with a sense of foreboding sinking into his blood and bones. He felt the nausea rising with every passing mile and the guilt was not far behind, lingering when the flash of all of the other feelings had passed.

He knew his way to his brother’s room like memory, as if his brother had been there longer than a handful of days. He wandered through the quiet halls until he was there, practically unnoticed by the staff for a long holiday night. A ghost within the walls.

He stopped short when he saw his brother’s face. All he could hear was his own breathing.

His hands hadn’t stopped shaking. He didn’t know if it was the cold, or perhaps the shock—his hands shook as he lowered himself down onto a chair by his brother’s feet, and they shook when he put his head in his frigid hands, gasping for deep breaths that stung all the way down.

It was too much. It was the roar of a natural disaster, a call to repent. Wildly, Lan Zhan wondered if he should get on his knees and beg his brother’s forgiveness.

It had been a long time since he felt grief this strong. It was the first time he had ever known this particular flavor of grief, not for a person’s life but for the life that could have been, for a person whose future he would not hold, for someone who was so far out of his reach that they might as well have been on different planets.

All he could hear was his own breath. In and out. In and out.

Lan Zhan’s voice shook and cracked when he said, “I will give you anything.”

It was the wrong place to start, too loud for the quiet walls of this room. Lan Xichen breathed evenly, skin pale and face peaceful like he was sleeping. Lan Zhan wanted to shake his brother awake, wished he were not about to make this confession to a comatose man.

Lan Zhan took another deep breath. One more.

He had been to see his brother so many times since the accident. He would never be used to the way his brother wasn’t quite there, the way he wouldn’t wake up, but a part of him was relieved that this confession would be to no one at all. That he could ask so much of his brother without him ever knowing that Lan Zhan had begged at all. 

His voice broke when he quietly asked, “Would you give as much to keep him as I would to have him?”

The silence was oppressive. It was warm in the hospital but a part of him ached for the return of that burning cold.

He couldn’t shake the look in Wei Ying’s eyes when they had been on the ground, one breath apart. Couldn’t forget the way he’d looked at that party, as if he was staring down the inevitability of something he could never have.

Lan Zhan knew that feeling all too well. 

“I have never asked you for anything,” Lan Zhan whispered to his brother, too soft for the world to hear. “You have given me a lot of things, and I have never properly thanked you. But you have always been the lucky one of us two, brother. You were the strongest of us. When I needed you, you were there. But you have always been so lucky.”

He rubbed his hands over his face. He felt a little wild. Lightning in a bottle.

“Lucky,” he murmured, and then shook his head. “I have never once been jealous of you, brother. No matter your achievements, no matter the ways you excelled— felt your achievements as if they were my own. I have never asked you for anything that you could not afford to give me. I have never hated you for what you had that I did not.

“But I think I hate you for having him.”

He shook his head, hard. 

“That’s not right. That’s not all of it. I’m… jealous. I am jealous you met him first, that I never stood a chance. I am jealous that it took a tragedy for me to find someone I would fight for, but it was always going to be too late. Wei Ying is his own person but I cannot love him, because you do.

“Tell me the price,” Lan Zhan whispered, desperate. “Tell me the gamble I have to win. Tell me who I have to be.”

Lan Xichen’s chest rose and fell with every breath, not a single stress line on his face. Lan Zhan’s biggest advocate, his daily hero. Lan Zhan wanted to scream. He wanted to yell until he lost his voice.

“I want to hate you,” Lan Zhan told his big brother, and he really wanted to mean it.

But the truth was, he could never hate Lan Xichen. He could be jealous of him for the rest of his life but he would never be able to hate him for seeing the same light in Wei Ying that he did. Lan Zhan knew the difference between being brave and being foolish, and he knew he would swallow his pride and love Wei Ying in silence forever if it meant keeping him in his life.

He would not hate Lan Xichen. He so wanted to.

Lan Zhan wanted to cry but he pushed it away, pushed it down. Locked it away until he could no longer find it.

“I hope you know how beautiful of a person he is,” Lan Zhan whispered, and all he felt was tired. Tired and broken and hopeless, jealous of a comatose man. “I hope that, when the time comes, you treat him like priceless treasure.”

He could not stop thinking of the way Wei Ying had looked at him with their secrets spilled onto the concrete between them. Reconciled that blip of hope with the burning jealousy and knew he would be tasting them both on the back of his tongue for the rest of his life.

He stood on shaking legs. Blinked back the burning in his eyes.

“You should wake up,” he told his brother, mournful and solemn. “If not for me, then for him.”

He reached out and patted his brother’s hand, a quiet oath, before he turned back for the cold winter night, feeling a thousand pounds too heavy and a thousand years too raw.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The clock turned midnight to the quiet sound of the nurses’ cheers, fireworks flashing over television screens as onlookers cried out in celebration. An unpredictable night of secrets and heartbreak and promises that no one could hear. A night of new beginnings.

And in the haze of a hospital room, Lan Xichen opened his eyes.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying burst through the doors of the hospital.

He didn’t have to look far to find the Lan family; he was fairly sure he could hear them from the sidewalk. Lan Sizhui saw him first and broke rank to rush toward him, grinning wide and excited like Christmas had come again a year early.

“He’s awake!” Lan Sizhui cheered, shaking Wei Ying’s arm enthusiastically. “Can you believe it?”

“He’s awake,” Wei Ying parrotted, traitorous eyes flickering toward the riotous family just up the hall. He saw the familiar curve of Lan Zhan’s shoulders, the careful way in which the other man had obviously noticed his entrance but hadn’t turned to look at him. He tore his eyes away to smile at Lan Sizhui, feeling like he was going to be sick.

Wei Ying had felt like a live wire after that strange, stolen moment with Lan Zhan last night. He’d walked back to his apartment feeling like he might skitter out of his skin, maybe even a little bit like he might turn around and start running, try to desperately find him and explain. To tell the truth before it spiraled off the rails even further.

But then he hadn’t. He walked home in a daze, and he’d laid awake all night, thinking endlessly on the many different ways the night could have ended. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look in Lan Zhan’s eyes when their faces had only been a millimeter apart—surprised, amused. Desperate. Yearning.

Wei Ying shivered.

“Are you cold?” Lan Sizhui asked with all the innocent concern in the world. Wei Ying shook his head, ignored the urge to keep glancing over and seeing when Lan Zhan would finally acknowledge him.

Not that it mattered, anyway. Soon, it would all be over.

It was a crushing dread, knowing that the world was about to crumble under his feet, knowing that he was about to lose so much that meant an incredible amount to him. It was a disorienting relief, knowing he wouldn’t have to lie anymore.

He forced himself to take a deep breath. Shook his head against the worried smile on the boy’s face. The elevator doors slid open and he lied, bright and optimistic and feeling like his entire world was ending, “I’m fine.”

He let the others lead the way to Lan Xichen’s room, searching desperately for any opportunity to just—say something. But the family chattered nonstop, excitement contagious in the air. Even Nie Mingjue was smiling, just a little at the corner of his mouth like he wanted to hide it. He knew if he didn’t say anything soon it would be too late—

And then they were at the door to Lan Xichen’s room. The others eagerly piled in, voices melding together into white noise, Nie Huaisang laughing and Lan Jingyi shouting and Lan Qiren shouting at him. The cacophony of a happy family.

For just one moment, for the last moment of his life, Wei Ying hesitated outside of the door.

And so did Lan Zhan.

For just that moment, that breath when they stopped, their eyes met across the space. It seemed like Lan Zhan might open his mouth and say something, maybe vocalize that incredible sadness written into the shadows under his eyes. In that singular moment, Wei Ying thought he might step forward.

Neither of them moved, and neither of them spoke. Lan Zhan looked away like he had been burned and passed into the room without a single word, rushing toward his brother’s side.

Of course he would. Of course. Wei Ying didn’t know why his eyes suddenly stung, why it hideously felt like rejection.

He stole another moment, a single breath. What did it matter, when he had already stolen so much?

He stepped into the room.

The Lan family had already fought for their places around Lan Xichen’s bedside—it was a shock to see the man’s eyes weren’t open, even if most of the tubes in his mouth and nose were gone and the small movements and twitches made it clear he was only asleep. Lan Qiren had taken the foot of the bed, as if to make sure Lan Xichen saw him first—Lan Zhan stood to Lan Xichen’s left, hands curled around the edges of the hospital bed rather than touching his brother.

Lan Jingyi noticed Wei Ying stop and survey the sudden lack of space for him and read everything wrong into the sudden flash of whatever emotions were on his face betraying him. He stepped to the side, making room for Wei Ying to slide past the group, and called, “Ying-ge, come over this way!”

Ying-ge. Oh gods. Wei Ying was going to suffer for this in the afterlife and he was going to deserve every moment of it.

It was now or never. This was his last chance, the last moment where his sins might be forgiven. Before Lan Xichen saw him again, before it got too real, Wei Ying knew that now was his last moment to tell the truth, the point of no return. Now was the last moment before the reckoning, the very last doorway before he had stepped much too far.

It was on the tip of his tongue. He took a shaky breath in as Lan Jingyi smiled at him, as half of the family watched Lan Xichen and the half that Wei Ying liked the most watched him like they knew, or like his voice mattered. Like they would really hear him.

Wei Ying hesitated.

And then Lan Qiren said, “He’s waking up.”

Even Lan Zhan looked away sharply, fingertips skimming slightly closer to his brother but still out of reach, as if he didn’t dare touch. The family tightened ranks around Lan Xichen’s bed as the man himself stirred for the first time in so many long days, brow furrowing as if waking up was a complicated affair. And Wei Ying’s window was long gone, his bridge crossed, his salvation far out of reach.

He should walk away, he realized. He should turn his back on this family when they were preoccupied and disappear into the shadows like he once had. He should repeat history and leave before it got worse, before he had to hear another person he desperately cared about call him a cancer. A disappointment.

He swallowed so loud he heard it echo in his ears. He tried to take a step back but his eyes caught on Lan Xichen’s eyes flickering open, how the man squinted and sighed under the glare of the harsh hospital lights. Nie Mingjue clutched the guardrail on the bed so hard Wei Ying could hear it squeak, might’ve been able to see the strain in his knuckles if he could see clearly.

Lan Xichen’s flickered open and closed, and then open again. He blinked, confused as he came alive, sluggish and lethargic. 

It was strange how Wei Ying had only once known Lan Xichen in motion, but he knew him best in stillness. Wei Ying knew him only in brief flashes, ships passing in the night, but he had learned more about this man when he was asleep than he had ever known when he was a smile in the coffee shop, and wasn’t that strange and sad?

He couldn’t help but to linger as Lan Xichen blinked awake, unfocused eyes immediately turning toward his brother as if he knew Lan Zhan was there. He blinked again and then, drowsily, murmured, “Wangji?”

“Brother,” Lan Zhan murmured back and Wei Ying could see the crushing relief washing over him, relaxing his shoulders and the muscles in his face, draining the stress away. Lan Zhan finally reached out and put his hand over Lan Xichen’s wrist, squeezing. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m in a hospital,” Lan Xichen rasped back, words slow and measured. His eyes followed around the circle, landing on Lan Qiren and then Nie Huaisang before they hung, for just a moment too long, on Nie Mingjue—as if surprised to see him there at all. “I think I… fell.”

“You did,” Lan Sizhui told him, offering him a smile as Lan Xichen’s eyes drifted to him. Lan Jingyi leaned forward as if in anticipation, practically vibrating with the effort not to launch himself on top of Lan Xichen when he continued for Sizhui, “You tried to stop someone from getting mugged, you great big hero.”

“Hm,” Lan Xichen murmured, as if the edges were still fuzzy. He looked back toward Lan Zhan. “Wangji?”

Lan Zhan squeezed his wrist. “We’ll explain more later.”

And as if it was an oath, Lan Xichen nodded, eyes drifting shut ever so much more.

A private moment. For not the first time, Wei Ying was on the outside looking in, a parasite and an unwelcome observer to something private and good that he should have long since walked away from him. He felt heavy, so heavy and guilty, but it was too late for the truth. The least he could do was walk away.

He took a step back.

And his damned shoe squeaked on the floor.

Everyone turned to look at him all at once. Wei Ying wished he was dead as Lan Xichen’s eyes finally snapped to him curiously, clouded with a bone-deep exhaustion and a rising confusion. Wei Ying froze like he’d been caught stealing, because hadn’t he?

This was it. Oh boy, this was it and Wei Ying was done for—

He braced for it. Opened his mouth as if to explain but nothing came out, no excuse or explanation nowhere good enough for the growing silence, the shift from joy to confusion as Wei Ying and Lan Xichen stared at each other across the room like strangers.

Lan Xichen frowned. Tried to push himself to a sitting position but his body didn’t come close, slumping him back onto the pillows before he got very far at all.

And in the fragile silence, Lan Xichen asked, confused, “Coffee guy?”

Wei Ying felt his jaw snap shut. Felt his muscles bunch up like he might run but, under the weight of the Lan family’s stares, he wouldn’t ever dare. He could barely even bring himself to breathe.

The room stood still.

And then Lan Jingyi wailed, “Oh no, he has amnesia!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Wen Ning stared at Wei Ying blankly. “Amnesia?”

“Apparently I’m the only thing he doesn’t remember, haha.”

Wen Ning put his head in his hands. Wei Ying was fairly sure, if there weren’t customers in the cafe, Wen Ning might be screaming in frustration. Honestly, he wouldn’t blame him. “Wei Ying.”

“I know, I know. I should’ve told them then.”

“Probably. You’re really gonna let this guy think he has amnesia?”

“According to Lan Sizhui, I’m the only part of his life that he doesn’t remember,” Wei Ying replied, waving his hands around. As he was holding a coffee-soaked sponge from a recent spill, most of it managed to splatter all over him and his apron, but he didn’t mind. There were much bigger disasters than some stains. “Listen, I can fix this, alright?”

“I sure hope so,” Wen Ning replied with enough sass that Wei Ying was almost a little proud of him. “ Amnesia...”

“I’ll fix it,” Wei Ying told him with the confidence of a man shoveling water out of a sinking boat with a teaspoon. He nudged Wen Ning. “I got myself into this mess, right? I can get myself out of it.”

Wen Ning eyed him. They hadn’t talked about his early departure from the party, or that he had brought Lan Zhan along to begin with. Wei Ying knew Wen Ning could see right through his attempt to make this new development into a celebration rather than a tragedy, but he liked to pretend to be oblivious. It seemed a little easier, that way. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Wen Ning finally confessed, and then sighed. “Are you sure you can get out of this?”

“I mean, worst case, I have to tell them. Which has always kind of been the worst case anyway, so.”

Wen Ning shook his head. “I don’t mean it like that. I mean—are you sure you’ll be able to get out of this and break the least amount of hearts possible?”

Wei Ying felt his smile falter; he tried his hardest to keep it up. “What? Breaking hearts?”

“Wei Ying.”

Nope. Not today. Not when the last twenty-four hours had been the most unpredictable roller coaster of his life, when just last night he had been close enough to kiss the untouchable man of his dreams and today a comatose man opened his eyes for the first time in days and called Wei Ying the name that he had secretly given him . Not today, because Wei Ying could already feel a piece of himself ripping at the seams and threatening to send his guts spewing onto the newly scrubbed countertops and he didn’t know how much else he could stand to lose.

Wen Ning must have known at least a part of that, enough to read on Wei Ying’s face not to push. Instead, he simply shook his head, reaching up to rub at his temple like staying up-to-date on Wei Ying’s life was more stressful than watching the news. 

“What are you going to do, then?” Wen Ning asked, because he had a knack for asking just the right question. Wei Ying turned the dripped sponge around and around in his hands, trying desperately not to think about how Lan Xichen’s eyes were a cloudy day and Lan Zhan’s were riches and sunrises and honeycomb. 

He closed his eyes hard enough to see spots. Took a deep breath until his lungs couldn’t hold anymore air, and then let it go.

“I have no idea,” he finally confessed, finally opening his eyes. His voice broke, just a little bit, when he murmured, “I really don’t know.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Wei Ying had trouble sleeping.

He’d always had this problem. The severity changed, depending on his stress levels. The holidays, so centered around family, typically made him too restless to sleep an entire night straight, left him staring at his ceiling and thinking too many thoughts about how he could’ve done things better or missing things so far out of his reach that they might not even exist. 

Some nights, Wei Ying had nightmares. When the nightmares were at their worst, he tended not to bother with sleep at all. His body was strangely used to it, conditioned for unexpected nighttime walks and staying up all night to binge a television show until exhaustion came for him instead of bad memories, until Wei Ying was able to collapse and fall into an infinite darkness instead of something achingly, horribly familiar.

Some nights, Wei Ying couldn’t bear to chase the things that he had left behind. So, instead, he walked the streets alone like he could ever outrun them, like he could trick his brain into believing they were farther away simply because his feet kept carrying him forward.

Wei Ying knew where his feet were taking him, but he didn’t try to stop them. The streets were quiet and windswept, the crunch of snow under his boots crashing loud through the alleyways and towering buildings that trapped the wind and snow. Wei Ying watched his feet instead of the street signs, knowing where he was going like he had been walking this path since the beginning of time.

Hospitals were strange at night. Unearthly. Bright. Hospitals were a place where the lights never turned off, where day and night were barely noticeable in the hustle and bustle of injuries and emergencies coming in and out of the door. Wei Ying walked softly and steadily toward the elevators, pressing the button for an all-too-familiar floor.

He could’ve found this room with his eyes closed. Funny how, two weeks ago, Wei Ying hadn’t known the layout of this hospital. Now, the halls felt like an old friend. He felt safe here, like he could wander all night and he’d be no different than any ghosts, any trick of the light and superstition.

He was tired enough that he didn’t think about if Lan Xichen was awake before he found himself standing in the man’s doorway, suddenly remembering that he was no longer a comatose man. But by then, it was too late—Lan Xichen was awake, head turned toward the hallway like he’d heard the oncoming footsteps, and he was staring right at Wei Ying with a growing surprise. Wei Ying stared back, equally as dumbfounded.

Stupid. He can’t believe it hadn’t occurred to him that Lan Xichen wouldn’t be sleeping. 

It was too late now. Wei Ying wasn’t much of a ghost anymore. And neither was Lan Xichen, alive and sitting up and looking at Wei Ying like he was a very complicated puzzle and he’d misplaced some very integral pieces.

Wei Ying had only really known Lan Xichen in bits and pieces, but he’d always been lively, like a wandering sun. He was paler and skinnier now, clearly exhausted, but there was still a brightness to him. A liveliness that almost made Wei Ying want to shield his eyes, to look away.

Lan Xichen was awake and he was—smiling at him.

Wei Ying shouldn’t be here. He didn’t need to bother this man that would never remember him, this man who looked so much like his brother and also so much not like him that it was a vicious sting behind Wei Ying’s ribs. Wei Ying started to back away, to apologize, to go home and spend hours lost in his own mind rather than dragging someone else down with him.

As if he knew what Wei Ying was thinking, Lan Xichen started to reach out. His arm caught on the IV and he winced, but still managed to say, “Wait. You can come in, if you’d like.”

His voice was a little scratchy—from the tubes, Wei Ying realized. Lan Xichen’s hand hit the bed with a lack of control that reminded Wei Ying about one of the many things Wen Qing would talk about with the coma patients, how muscles deteriorated and the worst had to relearn the basics. Lan Xichen, for all he seemed to be in decent shape, definitely looked exhausted. But still, he was staring at Wei Ying curiously, not in judgement but like he had questions. Like there were plenty of mysteries for him to understand.

And Wei Ying owed him that, didn’t he? So, even if he wanted to run, he nodded. He forced himself to walk into the room and take the seat to Lan Xichen’s right, settling down into it slowly like he half expected Lan Xichen to tell him to get out at the last minute. Instead, the other man grinned at him kindly, nodding toward the tray over his lap.

“I see you can’t sleep, either,” Lan Xichen joked, smile so tired and kind. “The doctors tell me I need more of it, not less, but I can’t help but to feel like I have too much to do. Like I’ve been sleeping long enough.”

Pleasant, polite, handsome. He was everything Wei Ying remembered him to be, but now with an added layer. A quiet comparison of all the ways Lan Xichen differed from his strange, unearthly little brother.

Wei Ying glanced down at the tray. “Are you… working?”

“Couldn’t think of anything else to do,” Lan Xichen confessed, almost embarrassed. He pushed the tray away from him, but he clearly didn’t have a lot of strength left—it only went a few inches, just out of his sight as he turned his attention to Wei Ying. “I’m not quite used to hospitals yet.”

“You get used to it,” Wei Ying said. “Weirdly enough.”

Lan Xichen smiled, but not all the way. He seemed concerned, conflicted. Curious. 

“There was a lot for me to catch up on,” Lan Xichen said slowly, delicately. “My family had a lot to fill me in on. But, before we get into all of that, I wanted to thank you.”

Wei Ying blinked at him. “ Thank me?”

Lan Xichen smiled back. Wei Ying remembered thinking he fell in love with that smile. How foolish he must have been, to think love could be so superficial. To think it was that easy. “For saving me. Jingyi was… especially animated in his retelling.”

“I,” Wei Ying started, and then stopped. “Right. Of course, yeah, don’t worry about it. Least I could do.”

“Very selfless,” Lan Xichen said. “Very brave.”

Wei Ying was starting to feel antsy and he was pretty sure it was because of the way Lan Xichen was looking at him. Wei Ying offered him a smile, the tiredness that had escaped him slowly leaking back into his limbs. 

“It was nothing. Really.”

Lan Xichen shook his head but seemed to let it go, at least for now.

The silence stretched on, a little uncertain as they both took the chance to eye each other up, feeling their way through the conversation inch by inch. Wei Ying didn’t know what to think about this man. A part of him felt so incredibly foolish for the fantasies of only a few weeks ago, of a boundless crush and an imagined future so unrealistic he almost felt self-conscious about his own thoughts in his head. Another part of him was just curious, maybe a little bit too tired.

Lan Xichen wasn’t all that much different than what he’d imagined him as. Wei Ying didn’t know why that suddenly... disappointed him.

“I’m sure,” Lan Xichen began slowly, “my family filled you in.”

“They did.”

“I’m sorry I can’t remember you.” Lan Xichen frowned. “It’s so strange. I remember a lot of other things, but you’re—gone. I don’t remember asking you on a date. A few of the doctors were relieved I knew your name, at least.”

“Head injuries are strange,” Wei Ying replied weakly.

He received a small smile in response. “Indeed. They think it should come back, given time. There are other things, too—sometimes I forget whole words, which will be inconvenient at work. But I’ll figure it out.”

His optimism, his kindness… Wei Ying was almost relieved it wasn’t an act, a persona for public politeness. Wei Ying knew stories about Lan Xichen better than he knew the man himself, but he was glad his family didn’t imagine or extrapolate his kindness. Maybe, in the end, that would make it all a little easier.

For a moment, though, Lan Xichen hesitated. And then he said, “This must be strange for you.”

“Strange doesn’t really bother me,” Wei Ying replied, and it wasn’t even a lie. Lan Xichen huffed out a laugh.

“That’ll do you well around my family,” he replied, and then fell quiet. He looked like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure if he should—Wei Ying didn’t know how to fill the silence except to wait for him, and eventually Lan Xichen continued, “It’s—odd. Realizing my family knows more about my significant other than I do.”

Red hot shame ran through Wei Ying’s veins, a long-forgotten surge of self-hatred. He pushed it down with the rest of his anxiety, let the bottle fill up to bursting when he countered, “It’s okay. Really.”

“Humble,” Lan Xichen replied with another smile. “Wangji was right again.”

Static ran up his spine. “Lan Zhan. You call him Wangji?”

Lan Xichen laughed. “Oh, it’s nothing secret. I recommend asking him the next time you see him.”

It wasn’t much of an answer, and seeing Lan Zhan again made Wei Ying want to walk for another couple of hours. He nodded slowly, trying to swallow the sour taste of rejection in his mouth.

Lan Xichen was none the wiser. “It’s quite hard to impress my little brother,” he confided with a smile. “But he had some very kind things to say about you, along with my young cousins. It was nice to fill in the blanks a little bit. It’s a shame that I might’ve forgotten important things.”

“We haven’t known each other for very long,” he said, and it wasn’t even a lie. “There’s plenty of time to figure it all out.”

“Of course,” Lan Xichen agreed, but there was still a wrinkle between his brows like he wasn’t quite sure if that filled in the pieces he’d been missing, after all. Still, he smiled over at Wei Ying. “I’m grateful that my brother was able to have a friend while I was… incapacitated.”

A friend. It was almost laughable, how much that didn’t seem to capture what he felt about Lan Zhan, even though they were friends. At least, he thought they were. But it wasn’t enough. It was like calling a tsunami a splash.

Lan Zhan was his friend. He was more than that, too.

Wei Ying had never thought he could feel suddenly and horrifically guilty for cheating on a man he wasn’t even actually dating, but it had been a hell of a holiday season.

“Lan Zhan is a very good person,” Wei Ying told him, feeling his throat tighten like tears. He shook it off, standing out of his chair quick enough he saw Lan Xichen’s eyes widen in alarm. “Sorry, I just—I work tomorrow, I should go. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You weren’t bothering me,” Lan Xichen was quick to reply, but then asked as if he couldn’t help himself, “Why did you come here?”

And maybe he was tired and maybe he was sad, but Wei Ying admitted, “There’s nowhere else for me to go.”

It looked like Lan Xichen was going to say something but, if Wei Ying was honest with himself, he was at the end of his rope. Having Lan Xichen of all people go out of his way to be kind to him, from a hospital bed no less, felt like a step closer to the edge of a cliff. Wei Ying wasn’t quite ready to tip over that edge yet.

He smiled at Lan Xichen with all that he could muster, because this man was always so kind to him and he deserved it. “Get some rest,” he told him. “Work can wait. Your health can’t.”

Lan Xichen lowered his head with a smile, sheepish. “Of course.”

Wei Ying turned toward the door. Before he could, Lan Xichen reached for him.

He didn’t touch him—he seemed just a little too weak, a little too tired to make it all the way. But when Wei Ying turned to him, by the expression on his face, Wei Ying wasn’t entirely certain Lan Xichen would have forced him to stay anyway.

“Feel free to come by again,” the man told him quietly, “if you can’t sleep. They’re moving me to another ward, but I’m sure I won’t be hard to find. I would like to speak to you some more. If you wouldn’t mind.”

The Wei Ying of two weeks ago would have fawned and fallen over himself to accept. He might’ve dropped to one knee on the spot, because the word overkill wasn’t really in his dictionary. The Wei Ying of now, though, barely felt the butterflies. He smiled at Lan Xichen, but he couldn’t help but to read the similarities in his and Lan Zhan’s faces, wondering if this would be as close as he could ever get.

It felt unfair. For the first time, his own lie felt cruel.

“Goodnight,” Wei Ying murmured and, before Lan Xichen could even respond, he fled with the very last of his dignity, a sinkhole opening up deep in his chest—an inevitable heartbreak that Wen Ning had so hoped he could avoid.

Chapter Text

He should be happy.

Lan Zhan was happy, of course. He hadn’t been aware of the ultimate, crushing relief he would feel when he saw his brother open his eyes for the first time after the accident, and he hadn’t realized that relief would be strong enough to follow him home for the night, heavy in his chest as if it was keeping him from feeling lonely. He had missed his brother fiercely, an ever-present ache that he had somehow managed to live with—a sore that would have never truly healed if Lan Xichen had taken a turn for the worse. 

So yes, he was happy. His family held their same relief in smiles and calmness, pacified chaos as they adjusted back into old, familiar roles. Brother, cousin, uncle, friend.

Lan Zhan had missed the peace that his brother brought. He forgot what this specific kind of calm felt like, the one that relied on the steadiness of his older brother in his life. A person he could believe in, and a person who made him feel safe enough to be himself.

But there was a deep guilt, lingering. Lan Zhan was not a fool enough to act like he did not know why it was there and why it may never go away. 

He would not forget what he asked of his brother when he could not even hear him. Lan Zhan may never forgive himself for that lapse of judgement, that horrific weakness that he may not ever be able to shake. 

This guilt and envy had felt disconnected when his brother was still asleep. It had felt more abstract, like it was someone else Lan Zhan felt jealousy for. But now he was sitting in a familiar companionable silence with his brother, reviewing paperwork they had missed, and Lan Zhan had fallen hopelessly for his brother’s significant other.

An impossible situation. A shameful secret. Lan Zhan remembered the sadness on Sizhui’s face when they’d talked and he knew he could never, ever tell his brother.

Lan Zhan figured he would eventually get used to the guilt, that flicker of jealousy rising up the back of his throat. He stared down at his work and pretended to read it, trying desperately to focus on anything that was not the way Wei Ying felt on top of him, the way Lan Zhan had been so starstruck, so captured in the man’s loveliness that he had leaned forward to kiss him—

Lan Xichen turned his paper over in a quiet rustle before he asked, thoughtful, “Wangji, why do you think I’m dating Wei Ying?”

If Lan Zhan was anyone else, he might’ve jumped straight out of his chair. Because he was himself, he simply looked up at his brother, hoping no one else could hear the thud of his racing heart.

“Why?” Lan Zhan replied, and he wasn’t sure what he was asking. Lan Xichen, however, didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

“I’m still having trouble remembering him at large,” Lan Xichen confessed, shaking his head. “I remember him in relation to the cafe, but I don’t recall… dates. Romanticism. You seem to understand him better than I do at the moment.” He smiled. “So why not ask my brother, my second self?”

The universe must be punishing him. It was cruel, but it was just. Lan Zhan could not blame whatever karmic revenge this must be for hitting him right where it hurt, right at the place in his heart that he could not seem to keep locked.

Lan Zhan… owed him a sense of honesty. Insight. His brother was looking to better his relationship and understanding of a person he clearly held dear. For all Lan Zhan fantasized of different circumstances, he would never rob his brother of something so precious. Lan Zhan was not a thief.

So, he told his brother the truth. As he knew it.

“He is kind,” Lan Zhan told him, feeling the chasm inside of him slice a little deeper. “He has lost so much but he has never lost that. He is not afraid of danger, of doing the right thing even if it is not the safer one, or the wisest. He is a person who could risk his life saving someone but then believe that he didn’t do enough.”

With every word, he felt his chest fracture. He felt like he was holding his bleeding, vulnerable heart in his hands, offering it to his brother as an apology that would never be enough. An offering. 

Lan Zhan would never have Wei Ying, but if he could give the two people he loved the most a sincerely happy life together, he could find a way to live with it. Not quite forgiveness—but perhaps acceptance. 

Lan Zhan felt like he was drowning but he managed to say, “He is the kind of person who would attend a stranger’s Christmas just because he knew it would grant them peace.”

He would watch the snowfall outside of their house, thinking of memories he would call sins but others would call courage.

He would look out into a crowded room and feel the same deathly loneliness, but he would still smile. He would still bring wine and snacks and laugh as though the despair was not crushing him.

He would be strong enough to make his family with strangers and friends but still believe he did not belong there. That he didn’t belong anywhere at all.

“He is good,” Lan Zhan told him, bleeding out, “and kind and charming. I believe you would have seen that. I believe you would have found it honorable. Valuable.”

Even the truth felt too close to a confession, as if Lan Zhan had said too much although he had done just enough. It would not be the first sacrifice he would make but it would also not be the last and, for a long and harrowing moment, Lan Zhan wondered how he would live his life in pieces. If a scar would ever bridge the gap and make him feel something close to whole again.

Lan Xichen had been watching him with a thoughtful expression as he spoke, but it had morphed, ever-so-slightly, into something Lan Zhan wasn’t sure how to read. For a horrible, sinking moment, Lan Zhan thought it was realization. It looked a little like sadness, something too familiar to grief.

After a pause, Lan Xichen smiled, open and weary. “I see,” he replied and, though nothing in his voice or expression said that he suspected, Lan Zhan felt the weight of shame as if it had been a confrontation.

Lan Xichen turned back to the papers on his tray. Shuffled them, and then, with a sheepish smile, turned them upside down. As if he had been asked to.

“Thank you, Wangji,” his brother said, offering him another smile. “I’m glad some of my puzzles may be easier to solve than others.”

Lan Zhan nodded only because he didn’t know what to say—and he couldn’t help but to feel like he had already said far, far too much.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Wei Ying had always admired Wen Qing, though he would never tell her so.

She was very strong, but she was as strong as she was terrifying. Wei Ying appreciated how she always seemed to have her life in order, how she maintained control with an iron fist but also knew when to ask for help. She was fierce and determined and, though she was very good at being kind, she was just as talented at telling people exactly why she was yelling at them.

When Wei Ying wanted sympathy and companionship, he went to Wen Ning. But when he needed someone to tell him how it is, he didn’t hesitate to go to Wen Qing.

It was a miracle she’d come into the cafe when she had, even if it was mostly because she and Wen Ning were heading straight to a family dinner after closing shop. It was also a miracle she let him get it all out without knocking him unconscious with her fists.

Wen Qing’s voice was barely audible from where she sat face-down into one of the tables. “Wei Ying.”

“I know.”

“You’re an absolute moron,” she replied, looking up and narrowing him with a glare made of butcher knives and flamethrowers. Wei Ying was almost glad the counter was between them, an obstacle she couldn’t leap over to throttle him. “Listen, the morality was questionable for a little while but I was still on your side. But now you’re telling me you got this guy alone and awake and you still didn’t tell him?”

“I panicked,” Wei Ying replied, frantically sanitizing the cash register for the third time in the last few minutes. “The guy had just woken up.”

“He’d been up,” Wen Qing countered, narrowing her eyes. “Which I know well, because it was me that had to sprint to the hospital right after midnight after I got called in for it.”

“It probably would’ve been the best time,” Wen Ning chimed in from the other side of the counter, cleaning the glass over the display cases. “Easiest, too. No one else was there but him.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, turning toward Wei Ying. “So why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” he said, but he knew they would read the lie in the twist of his mouth, in how he refused to look at them. “Maybe I didn’t want to overwhelm him.”

“Maybe,” Wen Ning said, but it was in a tone that implied he didn’t agree with him at all. Wen Qing glanced between them curiously, trying to glean from their reactions. Wei Ying fully turned around to straighten up the bags of coffee beans, more than a little terrified that Wen Qing would be able to see right through him.

It turns out, he was right to be terrified. “Wei Ying,” she called, “is this because of Lan Zhan?”

“No,” he replied too quickly. He wanted to turn around but didn’t dare, squeezing his hands around the edge of the counter to keep himself in place. “Why would he have anything to do with it?”

“Well, you brought him to the party and then left ten minutes later. You haven’t brought him up once since, and you were very vague about him when you were filling me in.”

“Whoa,” Wen Ning murmured. “She’s good.”

“I am,” she agreed humbly and then, when he didn’t turn around, snapped, “Wei Ying!”

He spun around, throwing his hands up. “How in the world would this be about Lan Zhan?”

“You like the guy.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. He snapped it shut. “In one way or another, obviously. But I know you, Wei Ying. I think you’d do a lot to keep him in your life, even if it’s in the dumbest way possible.”

Wen Ning leaned over the display case as far as he could go, smudging his own handiwork so he could stare Wei Ying down. “What do you think is the best thing to do?”

“I don’t know,” he said because it was true, because he could wander sidewalks and hospital halls until his feet crumbled to dust but it would never bring Wei Ying closer to whatever he needed to find. “I know I can’t keep lying. I know that. But I don’t know how to keep this from blowing up in my face.”

“Avoiding the truth isn’t helping,” Wen Qing told him, not unkindly.

Wen Ning’s expression, alternately, softened into concern, perhaps even a bit of worry. He eyed Wei Ying for a moment like he didn’t know if he should say what he was thinking but, when Wei Ying turned toward him and raised his eyebrows, Wen Ning let out a long sigh and held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me like that. I just want you to answer my question.”

“What do you mean?”

Wen Qing shook her head and said to her brother, “Simpler terms, A-Ning.”

He didn’t reply to her, but he did reiterate: “Wei Ying, what do you want?”

Wei Ying stared at him, uncomprehending. “What do I want?” he repeated, incredulous, and then shook his head. “It’s not about that.”

“Of course it is,” Wen Qing responded, getting to her feet. The chair scraped along the floor. “Go ahead. Answer him.”

Wei Ying knew, logically, what he wanted. He also knew that he was torn into a thousand different directions, endings that were both everything we wanted and nothing he ever wished for. It was a trick question, a pyrrhic victory. 

What did he want? He wanted to go back in time, except that he didn’t. He wanted to take back all of his lies, except that he didn’t. 

He wanted an outcome that could have never existed without his own recklessness. Without his bad moves, without his mistakes, he would have never gotten to know Lan Zhan. Without all of the things that he had done, good and bad and everything in between, Wei Ying would have been somewhere else but here. If he had done anything differently, maybe he would’ve lived the rest of his life thinking that sweet smiles were love confessions, that the stories his sister told him when he couldn’t sleep were true. 

“It’s not about what I want,” he finally murmured, tired and guilty, weighed down in every little way he had grown up too fast. “I’ve never had to think about it without considering other people too.”

Wen Ning opened his mouth. His sister gestured for him to shut it again without turning her gaze from Wei Ying, staring him down with steely fire and an all-too-familiar understanding of the ways in which the world is not fair.

“Then maybe, Wei Ying,” Wen Qing replied, tone softer than he’d expected, “it’s about time you tried.”

He looked away because it was too much, too real. Too much like an accusation he wasn’t ready to hear, a truth that wedged somewhere between his ribs, sharper than a blade and impossible to remove without damaging something vital.

Wei Ying had many familiar aches.

He barely cared about the physical ones. He had been a little reckless when he was younger and had fractured more than a few bones. He had scars he traced in the mirror, old injuries that twinged when the weather changed. He hardly noticed most of them anymore, forgotten in the test of time.

He most acutely felt the ones without scars. The ones he couldn’t fix with a stretch or a freezer pack. The ones that had grown roots in his chest that would never be unearthed.

Wei Ying didn’t like thinking about his family, not because of the way it had ended up because of how good it had been before. He thought about his family only when he felt like he was circling the drain, let himself expose the roots like raw nerves, let himself feel the loss like a limb he would never get back.

He had lost his parents when he was young enough that the memories of them faded dangerously with every passing year, no matter how desperately he chased after them. There were few things more terrifying than realizing that the same would happen to his siblings, too.

His departure had been loud, messy. Perhaps even cataclysmic. There hadn’t been much time for him to slow down from the time his adoptive mother screamed at him to get out at the top of her lungs, a frantic flurry of his brother’s hesitation to protect him and his sister’s tearful pleading that fell on deaf ears. And when he’d gone, when he’d walked away from his family for the last time, he’d kept only one thing.

But there was only so far he could walk—he was beginning to feel it, the groan and pull of muscles that had been overworked. For all he tried to outpace his problems, he could feel himself growing weary. Wei Ying could only outrun it all for so long, could only keep up such an unforgiving pace until his legs failed him.

What did Wei Ying want? A lot of things. 

He wanted to be able to put his feet up. To open up the curtains and let the light in. To let all of the things he had run from catch up, to learn how to accept and forgive.

He wanted someone who didn’t want him back. 

Wei Ying had always ached for a perfect love story. For the kind of love that he could talk about for the rest of his life without getting bored, a story that would live long after the little details of the past faded. He’d always wanted to believe in absolutes, in things like forever, because he didn’t think he’d ever had something that he didn’t have to grieve.

What did Wei Ying want?

He wanted what he couldn’t have. And wasn’t that always part of the problem?

He had lost his parents. He’d lost his adoptive family, too. And now, he’d lost Lan Zhan through nothing but his own selfishness, his own greed.

Wei Ying ruined so much of what he touched. His adoptive mother had screamed that at him, too, before he’d left. 

It wasn’t about what he wanted. It never was.

And maybe that hurt worse than he’d ever thought it would. Maybe he would feel that blade between his ribs for the rest of his life the same way he remembered every single word his adoptive mother said to convince him to walk out and never come back. Wei Ying figured he would learn to live with that ache, too, with time.

He didn’t know how to bring all of it together into words for Wen Qing, didn’t know how to show her that part of himself without leaving it open and vulnerable. So, even though he was choking with it, even if it tasted just like grief, Wei Ying managed to tell her, “I’ll think about it.”

She watched him for another long moment. And then she shook her head again, letting him be, her lips pursed with an unhappiness that might have looked like frustration but he knew her well enough to know it was sympathy.

“You do that,” she replied, sighing. “And do me a favor, while you’re at it—try to be selfish, for once. Your manic heroism is giving me hives.”

Chapter Text

It was a little trickier to find Lan Xichen know that he was awake, but—thanks to either a miracle or a mocking god of luck—Wei Ying ran into the same nurse from the first day, MianMian, who was more than happy to lead him in the right direction. She left him outside of the door with a knowing smile and Wei Ying didn’t know what else to do but to smile back, if much less enthusiastically.

He waited until she turned the corner and was gone before stepping into sight of the doorway. He knocked on the open door, poking his head in.

Lan Xichen looked up from the bed closest to the window, automatically smiling in welcome. In the bed closest to the door, separated by a privacy curtain, there was a man so deep in sleep he didn’t even hear Wei Ying knock. It was almost impressive—while Wei Ying could and would sleep pretty much anywhere, he figured a busy hospital with all those beeping machines might’ve made it a hell of a challenge.

Wei Ying wandered a few steps into the room, glancing around. “Not a bad setup you’ve got here.”

“It’s much more active,” Lan Xichen replied, “which is surprisingly appreciated.”

Wei Ying hesitated at the divide of Lan Xichen’s side of the room, suddenly unsure. Lan Xichen didn’t hesitate before gesturing to the chair next to his bed, smiling pleasantly.

“I see you got my message.”

“Via Lan Sizhui,” Wei Ying confirmed, awkwardly settling himself down into the chair. He glanced toward the side table and saw a single picture; Wei Ying recognized a younger Lan Wangji next to Lan Xichen and looked away. “You wanted to talk to me.”

Lan Xichen took a long breath. “I feel like I have more questions than answers these days.”

“It must be strange to wake up a few weeks into the future.”

“The strangest,” he confirmed with a laugh. “My family has been helpful, though. Patient.”

“I’m glad you have them,” Wei Ying told him, because he was. He had never seen a family so wholly loyal to each other as the Lans, and he couldn’t imagine a more enthusiastic group at a sick man’s bedside. He put his hands in his lap, trying very hard not to squirm under Lan Xichen’s scrutiny. “Is there, uh, something specific you wanted to speak to me about?”

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said, sitting up a little straighter. He folded his hands on the tray in front of him and looked very prim and proper if not for the fact he was still wearing a hospital gown. “It’s about our relationship.”

Wei Ying figured that would be why. The moment he got the message from Lan Sizhui this morning, asking him to come to the hospital at his earliest convenience, he figured this was undoubtedly the beginning of the end. He had spent the whole day preparing himself, reconciling the inevitable.

It was only right that he would break everything before he went. That, even without meaning to, he would leave a Wei Ying-shaped hole in these people’s lives.

He didn’t think he would ever be happy about the damage he did, but Wei Ying had realized that he could learn to live with it—the same way he’d learned to live with the rest of it.

“Okay then.” Wei Ying managed to sound calm, collected, like he was not swallowing grief he did not deserve. “What about it specifically?”

“I still barely remember anything,” Lan Xichen admitted, sounding even a little embarrassed. Wei Ying wanted to kick himself. “I suppose I just… cannot fully connect the dots, due to that.”

“It’s understandable,” Wei Ying began slowly, “that you wouldn’t remember.”

“Yes, my head injury.”

Wei Ying hesitated, and then forced himself to finally say, “No. Not that.”

Lan Xichen looked at him curiously. Wei Ying felt a lot like throwing up right now but knew the relief would come later, that once he finally opened his mouth and shattered his own lie, he would know he ultimately did the right thing.

He took a deep breath, opened his mouth—

A nurse bustled in, offering Lan Xichen a smile. “Hello there! Just gotta check something real quick, is that alright?”

Lan Xichen smiled placidly and turned back to Wei Ying, waiting patiently for him to speak as the nurse flitted around, checking tubes and levels and probably other important medical things. Wei Ying, who had not expected to have to confess to being a horrible person in front of an audience, hesitated.

He only hesitated for a moment, but clearly that had been long enough. Lan Xichen, who had grown used to the interruptions of a hospital, took the silence as an excuse to speak first.

“I think we are both aware of the uncertain dynamic between us now, due to the amnesia.” The nurse scooped up an empty water cup from the table and Lan Xichen offered her a grateful smile before turning his attention fully onto Wei Ying. “I have been trying to fill in the pieces with the help of my family, but it occurred to me that those actions were almost… cowardly. I should have come to you in the first place.”

“Lan Xichen,” Wei Ying began, only for the nurse to heavily place a blanket on the foot of the hospital bed, an accidental interruption. Once again, he hesitated.

Once again, Lan Xichen did not notice anything wrong with that.

“I asked my brother about you,” he said, which silenced Wei Ying like no other statement could. “He had nothing but good things to say about you, but still I had questions. It’s as if, with every question I have answered, I have a thousand more to ask.”

Lan Xichen turned to look at him as the nurse finally walked away. Smiled.

“And is that not what dating is?” Lan Xichen asked, teasing smile and tired eyes. “Asking questions until you decide the answers are ones that you like? So, as indulgent my brother has been regarding my questions, I knew I had to ask you.”

“There are a lot of things I can’t answer for you,” Wei Ying admitted and, before he lost his nerve, added, “And there’s been a lot of… misunderstandings.”

Lan Xichen looked amused. “I promise you, my brother and my family offered me nothing that seemed untrue. On the contrary, they seemed to sing your praises.”

That put an extra shameful taste in his mouth. “That’s not what I meant. I mean—the thing is—”

A knock on the open door. Wei Ying nearly let out a shout of frustration when another nurse skipped in with an apologetic smile, holding two trays of food. “Dinnertime,” she announced quietly, as Lan Xichen’s roommate still seemed startlingly asleep. She placed one tray at the sleeping man’s bedside, and then skipped over to hand Lan Xichen the remaining tray.

He thanked her, placing it on his tray table. She offered him a sweet smile before skipping out as quickly as she’d arrived, returning to the hallway and her cart full of trays.

Wei Ying rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, wondering what cosmic interference had to be making this as difficult as possible for him. Lan Xichen examined his tray with the smallest scrunch of his nose.

“The non-meat options leave something to be desired,” Lan Xichen informed him when he found Wei Ying watching him. He opted for the chunk of bread, tearing a piece apart with his fingers. “Help yourself, if you’d like. My family has a strict rule against eating while speaking, but I assume I could be forgiven just this once.”

Lan Xichen offered him another indulgent, sunshine smile. Wei Ying was starting to feel antsy under his skin, like if he didn’t get the chance to properly and calmly explain himself then he may very well end up shouting the confession of his sins at the top of his lungs. He wondered if it would even awaken the other man in the room or if he would manage to sleep through that too.

Wei Ying scooted the chair a little closer to Lan Xichen’s bed. The man watched him, eating small torn-off pieces of bread.

Wei Ying rested his wrists on the side rails of the bed, curling his fingers together as if he were begging. “Lan Xichen. There’s been a misunderstanding. Honestly. I am not the person you think I am.”

Lan Xichen eyed him, amused. “Is that so? Are you not the man my family speaks so highly of, the man who saved me from certain death?” He smiled and this time it was softer, more intimate, when he added, “Are you not who the ICU nurses told me came to my room most every night, just to sit quietly at my bedside for hours at a time?”

Wei Ying froze. 

He had no idea he’d been so noticed, that his presence had been noted amongst the staff like they expected his arrival. Most nights, he’d never even really set out to come here, had simply let his legs take him forward until he had ultimately been making his way to Lan Xichen’s room. He’d been tired and full of guilt and he’d found a strange comfort in the presense of a man he could speak to in quiet whispers with no ramifications. Someone he could tell stories to without receiving their sadness, their judgment. 

He remembered once reading an article about if people in comas could hear when others spoke to them, what specific external stimuli they reacted to, and a part of him was at least a little relieved Lan Xichen hadn’t retained any of it. That all of his flaws were still his own dirty secrets, for how freely he had offered them.

Wei Ying didn’t know how to explain his sleeplessness, his loneliness. He didn’t know how to tell Lan Xichen that it wasn’t love that brought him to his bedside but a desperation for companionship. A little part of himself that felt like he had finally done the right thing by saving Lan Xichen, even if he’d started a lie in the aftermath.

He thought it might sound like embarrassment, if he told Lan Xichen his excuses. 

He tried to clear a dry throat. “I—yeah, alright, I did that. But that’s not really what I meant.”

Lan Xichen shook his head. “Your motivations were your own, but do not forget that they were greatly appreciated. And while I do not fully understand, while there are pieces that I may never have, I know that there must have been a reason for our relationship.” Lan Xichen hesitated. He looked almost… flustered. “But I think I would like to learn the reasons for myself. If you are still willing to meet me halfway.”

For a moment, Wei Ying didn’t quite understand what this man was asking. And then, suddenly, he did. His entire body felt like it was dipped in hot sauce, heat rushing to the surface. He opened his mouth but nothing came out, so he snapped it shut, feeling the flush rushing up his throat. Constricting his airways like it was trying to strangle him.

Lan Xichen was asking him out.

A few weeks ago, this was all Wei Ying had ever dreamed. He’d seen Lan Xichen for the first time many months ago and he had projected onto him a perfect life, an escape from the monotony and heartbreak that he had gotten used to. Wei Ying had fantasized his wildest dreams onto this man, dreaming about how his life might get better if someone learned to love him.

A few weeks ago, he would not have hesitated. He might have fainted, just a little, but he would have wasted no time in agreeing enthusiastically. He would have worn stars in his eyes for weeks and weeks, hoping with his whole heart that this would be what he’d always been chasing.

But there was more to Lan Xichen, now. He wasn’t just a hot guy who got coffee every weekday. He was not just a pretty face, a fantasy.

There was an unevenness in the stakes. A falseness to the narrative.

It was everything Wei Ying had wanted. It was everything he would have never asked for.

It wasn’t fair at all. Not to Wei Ying, and especially not to Lan Xichen.

He took a deep breath. Felt his head buzz with a rush of his unspoken confession and his own self-hatred and the startlingly strong sense of sadness.

He hated that a part of him wanted to say yes. He hated that he didn’t not because of the lies, but because of someone he would never have.

Wei Ying had wanted the world with Lan Xichen until he had met his brother.

Wei Ying cared about Lan Zhan in an aching, permanent type of way. He wanted his happiness more than he wanted his own, wished with every nerve in his body that he knew how to give him everything. He knew, as much as he denied it, that it might be impossible that Lan Zhan did not love him back.

If he told the truth, he would lose Lan Zhan. Getting together with Lan Xichen might be the only way Wei Ying could keep Lan Zhan in his life, but the sacrifice might not ever feel worth it. Damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t. There was no way out of this impossible hole they had dug for all of them, no way to make this crime victimless.

It wasn’t fair to any of them.

“I don’t know how to make this right,” Wei Ying managed to choke out, and started to say It has all been a lie when the man on the other side of the room shocked awake with a loud, panicked shout, shattering the tense silence that had been building around them. Drowning out Wei Ying’s desperate attempt at the truth.

Lan Xichen clearly hadn’t heard him, clueless to the confession that sat just out of reach. Wei Ying still had his hands clutched on the rails—Lan Xichen reached over and placed one of his hands on top of them as a handful of nurses rushed into the room, speaking to the man in the other bed with soothing voices.

Lan Xichen smiled, squeezed his hands softly. “Think about it, okay? Everything will be different than it was, but we could start anew. If that’s what you want.”

It hurt to even look at him. Wei Ying’s gaze dropped to their hands, Lan Xichen’s warm on top of his. As if self-conscious, Lan Xichen pulled his hand away, dropping it back onto the bed.

“Think about it,” he urged him again with a soft smile, ignoring the chaos on the other side of the room. “Let me know when you know.”

And, because Wei Ying was already in too deep, he replied, “Okay.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Lan Zhan’s heart has been lodged in his throat since the moment he had left the hospital, through all of the streets he drove through frantically in order to get here. He was feeling so much at once, enough to make his hands shake, leaving his eyes dancing around, unable to focus.

He felt himself focusing in, slowly, with every step he took. Felt the chasm yawn open a little deeper with every step, too, as if it didn’t matter if he was walking toward or away from him. Like the result would always be the same.

He’d heard the apartment number only once. He found it easily now, rapped his knuckles hard against the wood even as it felt enough to shock him out of his skin.

He should not have come here, so late at night. But he never would have been able to stay away, would never have been able to find peace until he heard it in his voice.

The door opened. A confused Wei Ying blinked at him from the other side of the threshold, dressed for sleep, his hair messy. In his arms was a black cat, green eyes staring at him distrustfully.

Wei Ying’s eyes widened. His lips shaped Lan Zhan’s name.

He couldn’t hear it over the rush of blood in his ears. Heard himself say, “I need to ask you something.”

Wei Ying stared, startled. He let the cat down onto the ground; it looped around his ankles once before retreating back into the apartment, leaving Lan Zhan with one last narrow-eyed glance. Wei Ying stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

“Lan Zhan,” he said and this time he could hear him; this time, he desperately tried to remember how it sounded in his voice, the way no one else in the world could say it. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

He was so beautiful, even concerned as he was, lost as he looked. Even weary and unkempt, he looked warm. A summer sun in the middle of an unforgiving cruel winter.

Lan Zhan tried to swallow back the lump in his throat. Tried to ignore how being here felt so selfish even though he needed to know. Needed to look Wei Ying in the eyes when he said it, or else a part of him would always want to believe it was a lie.

It hurt to look at him. He was so beautiful that it hurt.

Lan Zhan barely managed to scrape it out of his throat, barely managed to hand the broken words to Wei Ying with his shaking fingers when he asked, “Are you happy?”

Wei Ying stared at him, wild and surprised. He blinked and some of it fell off of him, replaced with confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I came from the hospital,” Lan Zhan began and he watched Wei Ying’s face change, sad and understanding. It felt like a knife to his heart, as if Lan Zhan could bear anything else. His hands shook; he was almost glad they did, because otherwise he might have reached out. Try to steal something that was never his to have. “Wei Ying. Are you happy?”

It felt as if his world was ending. Lan Zhan had spent the whole ride convincing himself that, if the answer was yes, that he would be okay with it. Now that he was standing in front of Wei Ying, the idea of him saying yes was crushing. Lan Zhan had never been so selfish until he met this man, had never known that he could feel such devastation and loss for someone who was standing right in front of him.

Wei Ying hesitated, a strange look twisting on his face. As if he might cry.

“Lan Zhan,” he said again and Lan Zhan almost begged him to stop. It was too much, so much. Wei Ying sounded like he was breaking to pieces and Lan Zhan did not know how to help, how to make this easier.

He shouldn’t be here, knew he was causing unnecessary pain. But if he was going to lose him, he could be selfish. Just this once, he would take this horribly painful closure just for himself.

Wei Ying’s storm gray eyes looked black in the dim hall. Lan Zhan stepped forward until he was close enough to practically feel his heartbeat, close enough to hear how Wei Ying’s breath caught when he came closer still.

Lan Zhan wanted to reach out and touch him. He refused to let himself cross that imaginary line, refused to covet more than the way Wei Ying was looking at him.

“I need,” Lan Zhan began, and then stopped, because there was simply too much he wanted to say. He shook his head, took a deep breath before starting again. “I need you to be happy. Wei Ying. You should do whatever it is that makes you happy, no matter what it is. No matter what you choose. No one will ever fault you for chasing what you want—what makes you happy.”

It—didn’t sound like enough, but it was all Lan Zhan had left. It was the last thing that rattled around in his chest like a cough he couldn’t shake. 

Wei Ying reached for him. Didn’t come close enough to touch. “I—Lan Zhan—”

He waited, but Wei Ying couldn’t seem to find how best to ask him to clarify, to understand more. That was for the best, as Lan Zhan felt like he might be sick if he had to try to explain.

Wei Ying knew. Of course he knew. Lan Zhan had been foolishly enamored, hopelessly yearning. There was only one thing they could ever possibly be talking about, only one thing left.

And with the devastation in Wei Ying’s eyes, he knew. Sometimes it felt as though they were talking past each other but not this time, at the end of the line, at a crossroads where Lan Zhan could not follow.

His voice shook when he choked out, “If my brother makes you happy, you should take him up on his offer. You should be happy. Uncomplicatedly. Selfishly.”

Wei Ying flinched as if he had found an undeniable truth. As if Lan Zhan didn’t know that Wei Ying was so selfless that, if Lan Zhan had asked him not to date his brother, he would have listened just to avoid hurting him.

But it could not be like that. He would not allow it. If Lan Zhan had to spend the rest of his life watching Wei Ying be happy with someone else, he would have to learn to live with it. He would have to learn how to find happiness in knowing Wei Ying was happy, because that was what Wei Ying deserved.

Wei Ying had lost so much. He deserved something good. He deserved whatever he wanted, even if that was not Lan Zhan.

He thought, suddenly and hopelessly, that he might cry. He so rarely cried but he felt like he would now, in this hallway that smelled like wet carpet, staring at a man he loved with his whole heart, so much that he was willing to give him up. He would cry, he decided, but not here. Not if it ran the risk of hurting Wei Ying, of making him selfless.

Wei Ying looked like he might cry, too, like it wouldn’t matter where they were or why. Lan Zhan knew he would have to reach for him, felt selfish and hopeless at the part of him who yearned that he would have to. 

He had lingered too long. Stolen too much. Lan Zhan took a small step away.

Wei Ying watched him, spoke suddenly and loudly as if he didn’t want him to go. “What if,” Wei Ying began, and then hesitated. “What if I’m not the person any of you all think I am. What if what I want will hurt someone.”

“Some things must hurt,” Lan Zhan whispered. A silent plea for Wei Ying to choose his brother, to be happy. Lan Zhan’s permission to be happy without him.

There was a dawning, quiet sorrow in Wei Ying’s eyes. He closed his eyes firmly, swallowing hard enough Lan Zhan could hear it. It sounded painful.

Lan Zhan took another step back. He was letting him go, as much as he ever could. Loosening his grip in an attempt to let Wei Ying choose what makes him the most happy, willing to let himself lose something so precious because he wanted the man he loved to have everything he wanted. 

It hurt. Lan Zhan figured it would always hurt.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispered like he didn’t even mean to. Like saying his name was that easy.

“Be happy, Wei Ying,” he choked out, turning around to walk away. He made it only three shaky steps before he heard the pained noise behind him, before he heard a breathless whisper of what might have been his name.

He froze, unwilling to turn around. Unable to let Wei Ying see that he was crying, as much as he had wished he wouldn’t, as much as he could no longer fight the horrible emptiness opening in his chest.

For a moment, it was if Wei Ying didn’t know what to say. Lan Zhan almost started walking away, but he hesitated long enough for Wei Ying to find his voice, to whisper with a sudden, horrible despair, “Why does your brother call you Wangji?”

He was surprised, for just a flash. An emotion other than grief. He could not turn around but he could still hear Wei Ying breathing. It sounded heavy, like there was a great weight on his chest.

Lan Zhan swallowed hard. “My mother—before she died, she called me Wangji. My courtesy name. Most of my family kept them, use them every day. But I cannot bear to hear it in anyone else’s voice. My brother and uncle are the only ones who still remember.”

A brief pause. Wei Ying’s voice was sad but with the hint of a smile when he whispered, “It suits you. Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan could not bear it anymore. Could not stand here for one minute more without turning back and asking for more than Wei Ying would ever offer him.

He could not bear to say goodbye. He simply took one step away, and then another, and another—all too aware he was leaving behind his heart, a phantom beating in his chest and an ache that may never heal.

Somehow, he managed to walk away. Somehow, he managed not to look back.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Wei Ying watched Lan Zhan walk away and he wanted to chase after him, wanted to scream his name until he turned around again. He wanted to tell him everything even if it meant Lan Zhan wouldn’t want him anymore, wanted to grab that man and run away from this place, go somewhere where no one knew their names and their past and all of the horrible lies Wei Ying had told along the way.

He stood there until Lan Zhan was long gone, until the silence of the hallway started to feel suffocating, heavy. He stood there until tears dripped down his face, wetting the collar of his sleep shirt, clinging to his eyelashes until he was blinded by it.

He couldn’t fix this. Everything was so broken but he didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t know how to make it right, didn’t know if he deserved it—

He stumbled back into his apartment, blindly making his way back to the living room. Chenqing meowed in concern but he ignored the cat for now, searching desperately for his phone between the couch cushions.

He was lost. It felt as though he was adrift on a great sea, destined to end up a legend at the bottom of the ocean.

Wei Ying didn’t know what to do.

His hands scrambled along the touchscreen, shaking with every painful breath in and out. Agony and hesitance melted under the weight of this horrible dread, this unshakeable heartache, and he found himself pressing in a number he didn’t even know would work.

He was drowning and he didn’t know what to do and he didn’t know who could help but he was desperate, scrambling for a lifesaver in the middle of a storm. And, somehow, despite the drag of the years and the venom of his departure, it was the only number he could even think to call.

It rang three times, four. Wei Ying almost hung up, almost accepted that he deserved to drown alone, until—

“Hello?”

Wei Ying’s breath caught. 

He heard rustling, as if the person were checking to see if the call was still connected, before an achingly familiar voice snapped, “Hello? Don’t waste my time.”

And feeling as if he was in a daze, Wei Ying murmured, “Jiang Cheng.”

Silence. And then, sharply surprised, “Who is this?”

He sounded like he knew, though, even though it had been years and there was no clear reason why he would be receiving a call from his estranged brother in the middle of the evening. Wei Ying laughed and it felt like he was choking on it. He sank down onto the ground and put his free hand over his face, relishing the unexpected relief he’d felt at the sound of his brother’s voice.

“Jiang Cheng,” he murmured, voice shaking, “I really did something stupid this time, I think.”

His brother, without missing a beat, for how much his love language was being mean and how he had no reason to be kind anyway—his voice was very serious and a little panicked when he demanded, “Where are you? Are you okay? What’s happened?”

Wei Ying shuttered, delirious relief and harrowing grief. And he told him everything.

Wei Ying was always very good at talking, at telling stories, but this one was a little ragged, a little broken around the edges. Still, Jiang Cheng listened closely, occasionally letting out sighs and curses under his breath but never interrupting him. Jiang Cheng listened and Wei Ying had gone so long without having someone listen to him like this, someone removed from the situation but also someone who had always been on his side in times where he shouldn’t have been that he would’ve felt like crying again if he didn’t know that Jiang Cheng would bully him for it.

Jiang Cheng listened to all it, from the rescue to the new, raw scene in the hallway. Once Wei Ying went silent, letting himself catch his breath and get acquainted with the new pains in this chest, Jiang Cheng found his opportunity to sigh, loud and like he really hadn’t known what else he had expected.

“Only you, Wei Ying,” Jiang Cheng snapped, annoyed. “At least this time you’re aware that you’re a gigantic idiot. At least I can be thankful you didn’t call me from prison.”

“I’m too charming for prison.”

Jiang Cheng snorted. “A charming moron with two boyfriends.”

“Hey! Are you going to help me or not?”

“Of course I’m going to help you,” Jiang Cheng snapped back, clearly rolling his eyes. “If I wasn’t, I would’ve hung up ages ago! Better than listening to you pining like a schoolgirl.”

“I wasn’t pining.”

“Don’t even get me started, Wei Ying, I swear. I will put you in the damned ground. I’ll get on a train right now.”

And Wei Ying was laughing, a sudden sound that ripped out of the ruins of his chest. He didn’t know what to say, had no idea how to vocalkize his gratitude and the part of himself that felt a little less hollow when his brother hadn’t hung up. 

He wanted to tell his brother that he missed him, wanted to apologize for never calling. He knew his brother’s silences well enough to know Jiang Cheng was dying to ask him a thousand questions, curious to know the aftermath and what the world had been like for Wei Ying since.

But that would have to wait. That was not the way they spoke to each other, not all of the time. Forgiveness came with Jiang Cheng staying on the line. Love was communicated with Wei Ying telling his brother all about the crazy situation, was told in reaching out to him for help at all.

There were a lot of things they hadn’t said yet, but Wei Ying had a feeling that they would. But for now, there was his failing love life and a man in a hospital bed and an answer that he owed him sooner rather than later.

Still, Wei Ying couldn’t help but admit, “I missed you, Jiang Cheng.”

His brother paused on the other end of the line. Let out a long breath.

Wei Ying grinned to himself. Tilted his head back and closed his eyes, letting himself imagine, just for a moment, that he and his brother were the only people that existed, that his brother’s help was all he needed to untangle the parts of himself that hurt the most.

“Oh, shut up,” Jiang Cheng suddenly snapped, but Wei Ying could tell he was getting at least a little emotional as well. “You’re only saying that because you needed a voice of reason! So let’s solve this disaster so I can get some sleep, because some people work in the morning, you know. People like me.”

Wei Ying rolled his eyes. Felt as though the weight on his chest was at least a little lighter when he replied, “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

And for now, when the rest of his world was falling apart, it could be that simple. Just for now, just for this. Just before the rest of the world was awake, and everything would have to go back to normal.

For this, at least, Wei Ying could be selfish. 

Chapter Text

Wei Ying had grown vaguely fond of the hospital halls over the last few weeks, not for any reason at all but for the anonymity, the sense that he was just another passing person in a liminal space. These halls had witnessed far more than what trouble Wei Ying had brought to them, and it would see far more after.

This time, Wei Ying knew the way to Lan Xichen’s room. He walked straight there, knocking his knuckles again on the same open door.

This time, there was a new man in the bed beside Lan Xichen’s; he looked up curiously when he knocked, but quickly turned his interest back to the television softly playing an unfamiliar drama. Lan Xichen sat up a little straighter when he saw Wei Ying, offering him a smile as he crossed the room toward him.

“I didn’t expect to see you today,” Lan Xichen commented, not quite yet a question. He turned the papers on his tray over, as if Wei Ying might scold him for working again. “It’s good to see you.”

“Didn’t know the phone extension to warn you,” Wei Ying explained, and then pulled his hand out of his coat, offering the smuggled goods to Lan Xichen. “I brought a surprise.”

Lan Xichen smiled wide enough that his eyes scrunched charmingly at the corners. He reached for the coffee cup and the paper bag, humming happily. “My usual order, I’m guessing.”

“Impossible to forget,” Wei Ying replied, sitting down on the chair. It felt less awkward now, he was realizing. He hadn’t gotten much sleep but he felt better now. Like he could finally take a deep breath again. He hadn’t realized how much the last few weeks had weighed on him.

Lan Xichen pushed the paperwork out of the way, making room for the cappuccino and the sesame bagel. He did the same thing to the bagel as he had the chunk of bread yesterday, tearing it into small, elegant pieces.

“Thank you, Wei Ying.”

“I noticed you hated the hospital food, figured I’d show some mercy.”

Lan Xichen laughed. “I appreciate it, truly. Some members of my family are unwilling to bend the rules, and Jingyi’s choices of nutrition are concerning at best.”

“Glad I could help, then.”

For a moment, Lan Xichen chewed on a piece of the bagel. On the other side of the curtain, the roommate turned the drama up just a little bit, as if hoping to drown them out. Wei Ying figured that was probably the best they’d get.

Lan Xichen eyed him curiously as he finished chewing, fingers tapping against the to-go cup. “Have you given any thought to my offer?” he asked slowly, perhaps a bit uncertain. 

Wei Ying took a deep breath. Nodded slowly.

“I thought about it a lot,” he told him, because it was true. Because there were many reasons he hadn’t been able to sleep last night but it had always circled back to this. “I considered every possibility, looked at it from every angle.”

Lan Xichen waited patiently, curious. Wei Ying offered him the only smile he could muster—a little soft, a little sad.

And he said, “Don’t you have something good out there already?”

For a moment, Lan Xichen didn’t seem to understand. His brow furrowed, his head tilting to the side as he tried to read whatever expression remained on Wei Ying’s face. And then he seemed to realize—his eyes widened, and he ducked his head quickly as if it would be enough to hide his embarrassment, the hint of a blush climbing up his neck.

Wei Ying couldn’t help but to grin, leaning over to nudge his arm. “Speaking of questions and answers, huh? You and Nie Mingjue should give it a try long before we ever should. There’s clearly a history there.”

“Perhaps,” Lan Xichen muttered, embarrassed, as if trying to be vague when that word alone was clearly an answer. He shook his head, finally gaining control enough over his expression to look back up at Wei Ying. “That isn’t very fair to you, though, is it?”

“I feel better asking you to be happy,” Wei Ying admitted slowly, “then asking for you to make me happy as if it wouldn’t come with an asterisk. As if it would ever have been enough anyway, for either of us.”

Lan Xichen simply stared at him, stunned. His hands, halfway through tearing at his bagel, were frozen mid-movement. Wei Ying couldn’t blame him—he was fairly sure he was still in a cold shock, a lingering frost since last night when he’d opened his door and found a devastated Lan Zhan on his doorstep.

He shoved the image out of his head, ignored the painful thrum of his own heartbeat. He tried to focus on Lan Xichen again, refusing to look at that particular ache until he was long alone.

Lan Xichen still seemed to be coming to terms with what Wei Ying had said. As if he had imagined several different outcomes but he had never quite considered this one.

“Nie Mingjue,” Lan Xichen said, and let out a long breath. “That’s—unlikely, I admit.”

“It’s not,” Wei Ying reassured him, grinning when he turned to look at him. “I was there when they first saw you here. I saw the look on his face when he saw you.”

Lan Xichen shook his head again. It wasn’t quite denial anymore, but Wei Ying figured he would flirt with disbelief for a little while longer. Wei Ying couldn’t blame him. It must be baffling, to suddenly have something you wanted that once seemed so hopeless.

Another long pause. Lan Xichen kept tearing piece of the bagel mindlessly, even though he wasn’t yet eating them. After a moment, he asked, “And what about you? What is it that you’re looking for?”

Wei Ying shook his head. “It’s not about me.”

“Of course it is,” Lan Xichen replied, and he sounded almost insulted. Almost even angry. “You are—painfully selfless, at times. Selfless enough to believe you do not need to know an answer even when you’ve handed me too much. More than you should have, all things considered.”

“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” Wei Ying replied and, for once, it didn’t feel like a lie. He was too turned around to understand where he stood anymore. Too broken to know how to put himself together without a piece out of place.

Lan Xichen shook his head. This time, it seemed like disappointment.

But the afternoon wasn’t over. There was far more for Wei Ying to say. So much more to set them free.

“It was never my place to ask you for more than you could give me,” Wei Ying confessed, and suddenly didn’t mind there was an audience. For once, it felt like a relief and not a condemnation. Wei Ying had lost enough as it was; he could survive the truth, as cruel as it may be.

His companion didn’t understand, of course. Lan Xichen eyed Wei Ying curiously, so much easier to read than his brother. Compared to Lan Zhan, his older brother wore all of his expressions on his sleeve, soft and friendly and so sympathetic it almost hurt to look at.

Lan Xichen was kind. Forgiving, perhaps.

It was easy, startlingly easy, for Wei Ying to admit, “There’s something I have to tell you.”

And—he did.

He told Lan Xichen everything—the truth, from the very beginning. Telling Jiang Cheng last night had made it a little easier to do it this time, made it feel a little more excusable, understandable. Maybe disconnected, even, although he knew he wasn’t. But hearing it once made it easier to tell it a second time, allowed Wei Ying the space to own his mistakes. To know where he went wrong, but to accept it rather than burn with it.

Lan Xichen was a good listener, even though his eyebrows went up early on and hadn’t quite come back down. Part of the way, he’d even started munching on the bagel again, listening carefully as Wei Ying explained himself. At one point, when Wei Ying told him about tripping directly into Lan Zhan, Lan Xichen even choked on his coffee.

This time, Wei Ying didn’t mention the moment in the hallway, choosing at the last minute to keep that to himself. That if he could steal one more piece of all that the Lan family had already given him, he would hold that part close to his chest. Keep it for however much longer that he could bear.

When he was done, it even felt a little bit like relief. Lan Xichen was watching him with an unfathomable, thoughtful expression; even the television on the other side of the room was softer, as if the man in the other bed had found this much more interesting than whatever was on the screen.

Lan Xichen took a very, very deep breath. Wei Ying waited to be yelled at, figuring it was only fair.

And then Lan Xichen burst into laughter.

It was so loud, Wei Ying was certain it echoed down the hallways. It filled the room like fireflies in a jar, incredibly cheerful and infinitely amused. Wei Ying stared, startled, as Lan Xichen’s face even started to flush red as if he could barely catch his breath.

Lan Xichen gasped for air, putting his hands over his face. Even still, his shoulders shook. “I’m sorry,” Lan Xichen apologized through his hands, voice shaking with a laugh. “I just—I very much did not expect that. Your struggles are not what I’m laughing at.”

“It’s kind of hilarious, how bad I am at being an adult,” Wei Ying couldn’t help but admit. Lan Xichen only laughed harder.

“No,” he disagreed, surprising him. “No, you’re doing many things right. You are simply just… very unexpected.”

Lan Xichen finally dropped his hands, pursing his lips around more laughter as he met Wei Ying’s gaze. He offered him a smile that was brimming with amusement but, most of all, forgiveness. Understanding. Wei Ying felt another part of the weight fall away in the fact of his compassionate mercy.

“It was a big lie,” Wei Ying admitted, a little worried that Lan Xichen didn’t understand. That he hadn’t looked past the hilarity to see the consequences of what he had done. “I should have told them.”

“You could have,” Lan Xichen said and then shrugged. Actually, really shrugged. As if it didn’t matter. “They saw what they wanted to see, as well. You allowed them to, and thus gave them peace of mind when they needed it most.”

Wei Ying hesitated, but he’d already said so much. What was one more confession, when Lan Xichen mercifully wasn’t even as upset as he should be? “I took it too far, I think. It seems kind of cruel, in hindsight.”

Lan Xichen considered that, but ultimately replied, “I think you did not do so much damage that you would not be forgiven for it.”

But Wei Ying shook his head, because he didn’t agree.  He wasn’t sure if he would have forgiven someone, if they had knowingly misled him for so long. He knew Lan Xichen’s judgment was only kind because he didn’t know what had happened between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan.

As if he suspected there was more to the story, Lan Xichen pointedly didn’t argue even though he clearly wanted to. Instead, he sat back in his bed, holding the cup of coffee between his palms as if he was trying to preserve the last of its warmth.

“So,” Lan Xichen began slowly, “what are you going to do now?”

It was a bit of a loaded question, but a fair one. Wei Ying had finally confessed all of his sins and for the first time in a while, he felt like he had nothing left. As if he’d completely emptied his reserves, leaving him with a numb, relieved hollowness.

He knew it would hit him later, after he’d walked away and gone home and realized that there was a part of his life he would never get back. But his brother’s name was in his phone again, and he had his own answers to find. Perhaps that would be enough, in the end.

“I don’t know,” Wei Ying admitted. Lan Xichen slowly set the coffee cup down; it echoed hollow, empty.

Lan Xichen paused. He breathed in through his nose before asking, very gently, “And my brother?”

Wei Ying felt a rush of heat, shame and embarrassment and guilt. He didn’t know how Lan Xichen knew, or at least how he had suspected; he swallowed hard, looking down toward his hands to avoid whatever expression was forming on Lan Xichen’s face.

“What about him?” Wei Ying demanded even though he practically choked on it. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Lan Xichen stared at him. He looked away when Wei Ying wouldn’t look him in the eye, turning back to the remains of his bagel with an unhappy turn to his mouth.

“I simply figured I would ask,” he replied delicately, “as we were now being honest with each other.”

He would be a good friend, Wei Ying realized. Lan Xichen was kind and compassionate, but maybe he was the happy medium between Wen Ning and Wen Qing—perhaps Lan Xichen would be the one to hear him out, but would not hesitate to tell him he was wrong. Someone who could see through the things he was trying to hide and would hold him to it.

Wei Ying gave him a begging, pointed look. Lan Xichen didn’t look happy about it but he nodded reluctantly. 

“You have my blessing,” Lan Xichen responded anyway. “As if you’d ever need it.”

Wei Ying pretended it didn’t bother him, that it didn’t feel like a sharp knife in my stomach. Lan Xichen’s ultimate kindness might not have been his forgiveness, but the fact that he still somehow believed Lan Zhan could ever love Wei Ying. Would ever love him, once he knew the truth.

“You’ll tell them,” he said, because it didn’t seem like there was another option. 

“Hmm,” Lan Xichen murmured like there was. 

“I’ll let you decide what’s best. They’re your family, after all.”

Lan Xichen nodded as if that was perfectly acceptable. Wei Ying knocked his knuckles against the bed rails, feeling a real smile curling on his lips.

“And anyway,” he added, “maybe it’s time for me to figure out my own family before I force myself into someone’s else’s.”

Lan Xichen shook his head but said nothing. Wei Ying knocked one more time before pushing himself up onto his feet, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Xichen said before he could leave, right before he was about to walk away. He waited until Wei Ying turned to face him again before he smiled, kind and sad and like he meant it when he said, “I wish you nothing but happiness.”

A goodbye—and a thank you. Wei Ying smiled back and it didn’t taste like defeat. It felt like hope.

“Good luck, Lan Xichen,” he replied with one last grin.

He didn’t look back when he walked away, and it wasn’t for any reason at all. If Lan Xichen needed to speak to him someday, he knew where to find him. If Wei Ying had learned anything in the last day, it was that perhaps chapters and stories never really ended at all. He figured he would see Lan Xichen again one day, probably at the cafe. And when it happened, he looked forward to greeting him like a friend.

Wei Ying did not let himself think of what he was leaving behind. For now, he only dared to think of the world in front of him—the places he will see, the people he would meet along the way.

There was a big, unpredictable world out there. For the first time in a long one, Wei Ying looked forward to jumping in headfirst, to finding his own way up—and to breaking the surface of a whole new adventure.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The snow melted slowly into the hints of a beautiful spring, a long and hopeful recovery from an unforgiving winter. It had taken some time before Lan Zhan’s brother had been released from the hospital, before he’d been moved into his old room in the Lan family home. Lan Xichen had needed the help in the first handful of weeks, though he had been hesitant in asking for it—but the weeks had passed, and the presence on the other side of the dinner table was an unexpected balm. A grateful distraction. 

The weeks had passed slowly and steadily, step by step. Lan Zhan did his best to keep himself busy, distracted, and found it was easier when his brother needed some help anyway. 

It had taken only a few days after Lan Xichen had come home before Lan Jingyi had asked him about Wei Ying. Lan Xichen had simply informed the group, calmly and measuredly, that they had to chase their own happiness, and it was not with each other.

Lan Zhan had been trying, very desperately, not to think about it.

Other than the once, the topic had been carefully strayed away from the incident as a whole. Life simply moved on, away from all of the things that had happened on Christmas. Lan Zhan had taken the hint.

A week after Lan Xichen had been released from the hospital, his brother had cheerfully informed him that he was in a relationship with Nie Mingjue. It hadn’t been surprising on its own, as even Lan Zhan had noticed the two dancing around each other, but all Lan Zhan had offered was his congratulations, burying any of his questions deep down. Lan Jingyi had seemed a little upset at the announcement until he’d seen the two interact, and then he had clearly been won over.

Life went on, as it always does. And for not the first time, Lan Zhan couldn’t help but to feel as though it had left him behind.

Lan Zhan’s world had found a new normal, for better or for worse. He had learned to avoid the places where Wei Ying might be, had buried his smile away somewhere secret. Lan Zhan had waited for a call that hadn’t come, and that had been answer enough.

He had thought the topic of Wei Ying was closed when it came to his family. It was, at least, until it wasn’t.

The family dinners recently had been tame, all things considered. It was a more revolving door of participants, which allowed for some relief, but the new musical chairs to allow Lan Xichen next to Nie Mingjue had been an unexpectedly bloody fight that, of course, Nie Mingjue had won. Lan Zhan had learned when he was a child to simply keep his head down and his mouth shut, sipping obsessively at his tea as if he did not hear a moment of the wildness even as his brother’s laughter managed to echo even louder.

And it was at one of these family dinners where everyone was in attendance where Lan Xichen very clearly caught eyes with him across the table, tilted his head to the side, and asked innocently the moment the whole room went silent, “Wangji, have you heard from Wei Ying?”

There was a long moment of silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Lan Zhan saw Lan Sizhui put his hand over his mouth. 

Lan Jingyi looked between them, confused. “Huh? Oh, because Lan Zhan and Wei Ying became friends?”

Nie Mingjue took a pointed bite of a tea biscuit, and Lan Xichen continued to smile angelically. Lan Jingyi yelped as if someone had kicked his under the table and turned to narrow his eyes at Lan Sizhui, who simply widened his eyes as if desperately attempting to communicate nonverbally.

Lan Zhan reached desperately for his teacup and tried to take a sip.

“It’s empty,” his brother informed him at the same moment he himself realized, lips tipped up in amusement. “Have you, Wangji?”

“No,” Lan Zhan answered, hoping that would kill the conversation. Unfortunately, he was rarely so lucky.

Instead, Nie Huaisang looked between the two of them and made a choked noise in realization before slapping his own hands over his mouth to hide his grin with little success. Nie Mingjue began to eat another tea biscuit with unnecessary eagerness, shooting his brother a glare as if no one else at the table could see it.

Lan Zhan felt his ears turning red. Mortification began to creep into his throat.

And then, Lan Qiren groaned before slamming his head down onto the table.

“Please tell me I am misunderstanding,” his uncle spoke into the table. “Wangji, Xichen, I am begging you.”

Lan Zhan glared at his brother. Lan Xichen widened his eyes, expression sympathetic and not accusatory at all. Lan Zhan looked down at his place setting, trying not to show the hot shame curling in his stomach.

“Wangji,” his brother called. He did not look up. “I’m not mad. I’m simply asking.”

“In front of everyone,” Lan Zhan snapped back, because there was so much inside of him at once, overwhelming. Lan Xichen ducked his head in guilt, but did not let the subject go. 

Lan Qiren put his head in his hands. Nie Mingjue kept frantically eating biscuits.

“You haven’t gone to speak to him yet,” Lan Xichen observed.

“He hasn’t attempted to contact me, either.”

“Holy moly,” Lan Jingyi cried, half a step from feral. “Lan Sizhui, hold me back, I’m about to lose my entire mind.”

Without looking up, Lan Qiren snapped at him, “Not at the table, you horrid boy.”

Lan Xichen ignored them to say, “Perhaps he’s waiting for you.”

“He knows where I stand,” Lan Zhan replied, which only sent his uncle groaning into the table top again. “If he has not contacted me by now then he never will.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

“He’s the self-sacrificing kind,” Lan Sizhui offered kindly. “He does not seem the type to ask for anything.”

Lan Xichen gave him a pointed look. Nie Huaisang began typing wildly at his phone as if he was taking notes. Lan Zhan barely managed not to reach over and rip the phone out of his hands.

“He’s your ex,” Lan Zhan replied awkwardly.

“It’s much more complicated than that,” Lan Xichen admitted slowly, “but I assure you, Wangji, that there were not enough feelings involved. Not much of any at all.”

“No way,” Nie Huaisang said. “Wei Ying was a rebound?”

Lan Jingyi gasped very loudly.

“I’ll explain it later,” Lan Xichen replied in a tone that clearly implied he would not be explaining anything at all. He turned back to Lan Zhan. “I think you should consider it, little brother. I think it would make you both happy.”

“Why are you so adamant?” Lan Zhan demanded, unable to help himself. Lan Xichen simply shook his head, another cue for a later that was unlikely to ever happen.

After a moment, his brother admitted, “You have known more of his soul than I ever did. He did not pick me.”

He didn’t exactly pick Lan Zhan, either. Lan Zhan heard the disappointment in his chest when he responded, “I will not pressure him into choosing a future that he has clearly not chosen for himself. I made myself and my feelings clear. And he is still not here.”

Lan Zhan looked down at his empty dish, single-handedly attempting to bring the conversation to an end. For a moment, it even seemed to work. He heard his brother sigh and Nie Mingjue murmur something, and he even heard Lan Jingyi hyperventilating. 

And then, from the head of the table, his uncle said, “With all due respect, Wangji, your brother is offering you a gift. Perhaps you should accept it.”

Lan Zhan shook his head, maybe a little petulantly. He tapped his fingers against his empty tea cup and ignored the frowns he could feel directed his way, ignored the disproval in his uncle’s voice. He especially ignored when Lan Jingyi leaned toward Lan Sizhui and whisper-yelled, “Holy cow, Lan Qiren’s a shipper.”

Lan Xichen took a very careful deep breath before saying, “Wangji, after dinner, I need to speak to you. I think it’s about time I told you something.”

Lan Zhan nodded mutely, still refusing to look up. He had no idea what his brother would tell him, but he doubted it would change anything. He doubted any secret truth would give him permission to pursue the man of his dreams when things were already so complicated.

Eventually, the attention fell away from him. But it was too late—the seed had been planted in his head, undeniable with creeping roots, making their home there. He couldn’t help but to wonder if his brother was right, that Wei Ying would be happy with him.

He couldn’t help but to wonder if his uncle was right, if this was a gift.

Lan Zhan had been careful not to think about it, over the past few days. But now, his family had left him with a bloom at the beginning of spring. A small, pulsing hope—a question that required an answer.

Chapter Text

Business improved at the cafe with the warming of the weather, bringing more people back onto the streets, more willing to stop and explore the city. It was a welcome distraction to Wei Ying’s mornings and afternoons, a little bonus. The sunshine was nice, too—melting the ice, elevating this mood on his long walks home. Springtime was a nice little signal that Wei Ying had made it through the winter and he couldn’t help but to love every single part of coming out of the other side.

Wei Ying hadn’t realized just how badly he had missed his siblings.

“Jin Ling is almost two now,” Wei Ying informed Wen Ning for probably the hundredth time, as if talking about his family wasn’t his new favorite topic. “A-Jie sent me a bunch of new pictures yesterday. The kid looks too much like his peacock coward of a father, but oh well. What are you gonna do? He's got some of the best parts of A-Jie, though, so that makes up for it.”

Wen Ning hummed, amused. “Is that right?”

“She’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” Wei Ying informed him. “You may feel the same about your sister but I will have to inform you that you are incorrect. A-Jie is the best.”

Wen Ning rolled his eyes, focusing on his latte art rather than the very convincing eyebrows Wei Ying was centering on him. “Oh, of course.”

“Jiang Cheng is fine too,” Wei Ying added. “Not in, like, prettiness. He is actually the most ugly of the three of us. But he hasn’t threatened to kill me in a few days so he’s clearly in a good mood, at least.”

“I’m glad you’re getting along,” Wen Ning informed him as he handed off the latte to a middle-aged woman at the counter, who nodded in thanks. “I know it means a lot to you, to have them back.”

“I guess I didn’t realize how much I missed them.” Wei Ying grinned in apology. “You’re probably sick of hearing about it, huh?”

“Of course not, I’m happy for you,” Wen Ning replied instantly, almost insulted. “Even my sister agrees that you’ve been in a much better mood as of late.”

“Yup,” he replied instead of thinking of all of the reasons why he shouldn’t be as happy as he is, burying it all very deep. Repression was a decent strategy, after all. “Did I tell you I might need to ask for some time off, by the way? My sister wants to visit, but she has to wait since my brother wants to come, too.”

“You know I don’t mind.” Wen Ning leaned against the counter, eyeing him curiously. “As long as you're happy.”

Wei Ying grinned at him. “Of course I am!”

But Wen Ning clearly knew him well, perhaps even too well. Wei Ying was objectively happier, obviously. He had something new to look forward to, could look forward to reconnecting with his siblings when days felt a little too hard and he found himself a little lost in his thoughts.

He had his siblings back, so he shouldn’t feel lonely anymore. Except that he does, intensely so, as if something was missing. He spent a lot of his time alone trying to pretend like he didn’t know exactly who he was missing, who he saw out of the corner of his eye when he wasn’t there and who he dreamed about, just out of reach.

He still went home to an empty apartment, even though he had the phone calls to fill the silence. He had pictures to put on his empty walls. But it didn’t change the facts that he missed him with a phenomenal ache, an unexpected emptiness.

It was easier to pretend he didn’t, though, since there was so much more to talk about. It was easy to distract himself and others, in favor of talking about all of the things he had gained. He had learned to live with it, as well as he ever thought he would.

Wen Ning cast a doubtful look as if he could read his mind. Wei Ying pretended not to notice, straightening up the stack of to-go lids.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Really. I promise.”

Wen Ning stared him down for a long moment, unconvinced. Thankfully, the ring of the bell over the entrance sang, signalling a new customer. Wei Ying sent Wen Ning a grin, knowing he had just dodged a bullet; Wen Ning, though, was staring at the new customer, eyebrows rising. His eyes glanced away, back to Wei Ying, and he looked like he might start laughing.

“You’ve got this one,” Wen Ning announced and, without another word, he turned and walked into the back room.

Wei Ying stared at the swinging door before rolling his eyes. He turned around to face the counter, smile already in place as he greeted, “Hello, welcome to—”

And then he realized who he was talking to. His breath knocked out of him like he’d been punched in the stomach.

Lan Zhan stared at him across the counter as if he might disappear, as if he was little more than a mirage—like sunshine after a long, harsh winter. The shadows under his eyes were a little darker, the only clear change to a man who seemed as immovable as stone, but Wei Ying knew better. Lan Zhan must have come here on purpose but he was looking at Wei Ying with complete surprise. Like he was everything he had ever wanted.

Wei Ying realized he wasn’t breathing. He tried to gasp for just a hint of it, anything to keep his head from spinning out of control, anything to control the pounding of his heart.  

He took a step forward. Another. His chest was on fire but he couldn’t help but to bite back a smile.

He reached the counter in three and a half steps. He leaned forward into it, watching the way Lan Zhan’s eyes followed his every move—letting himself wonder if it hadn’t all been in his mind after all, if there really was hope.

“Hi,” he murmured again, feeling his lips trying to twitch into a smile. “Are you here for a coffee?”

Slowly, Lan Zhan shook his head.

Wei Ying couldn’t help but tease him, his heart racing. “Hmm,” he replied, tilting his head. “Strange, as this is a cafe. Unless it’s for a pastry, tea? Perhaps a bagel?”

Again, Lan Zhan shook his head. Lan Zhan had once seemed so unreadable but Wei Ying had learned how to understand him at some point along the way. He read the humor in the corners of his eyes, the hope in the twist of his mouth. Lan Zhan looked at him like he would never look away and Wei Ying burned with it.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Wei Ying said, still playing the game, but this time his voice was hoarse. “That would mean you’re here for me, then.”

“Wei Ying,” he finally said—amused, wondrous. He leaned slightly closer to the counter. As if Wei Ying was the center of gravity, pulling him closer. 

“Lan Zhan,” he echoed because that was all that was left; Wei Ying was fairly sure his brain was leaking out of his ears, even more useless than it had ever been. 

For a moment, Lan Zhan hesitated. And then he reached for him, catching one of Wei Ying’s hands, and Wei Ying—melted.

“I—” Lan Zhan began, and then stopped. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath as if to center himself; Wei Ying was distracted, just for a moment, in the fine fan of Lan Zhan’s eyelashes against his cheeks, and wanted very suddenly to reach out and touch them.

It was magic. It was like a movie, with great swelling music and a sigh of relief. It felt almost unreal but a part of him, the part that still fantasized even though he knew he shouldn’t dare, had imagined something like this. A part of him had hoped Lan Zhan would come through that door one day, even though it had only been a fantasy, and Wei Ying had learned to stop believing in those.

But Lan Zhan had always been something out of his wildest dreams. He should have known that, out of everyone, it would be this man who would make all of his dreams come true.

His hand was big, warm. There were calluses on his fingers, rough from his musical training—Wei Ying imagined those calluses on his bare skin and shivered.

Very softly, Wei Ying prompted, “You?”

Lan Zhan never looked away from him, not once. He squeezed his hand, eyes softening at the corners as if he might smile.

Lan Zhan murmured, in the whir of the cappuccino machine, as sweet as the pastries in the glass cases, “You make me happy.”

And Wei Ying was smiling, big and goofy, his heart flipping in his chest. It was subtle but it could only ever mean one thing—Lan Zhan was so good at that, at saying what meant the most without saying too much. He knew exactly what to say to get Wei Ying to fall because Wei Ying already had, barely needing the extra push to want something great and big and terrifying and forever with this man.

It was selfish. It was probably the most selfish thing Wei Ying had ever wanted.

He didn’t hesitate.

Wei Ying ripped his hand away from Lan Zhan’s only so he could launch himself over the counter, giving the man no warning before he barrelled right into him. Lan Zhan, always so clever, seemed to know to catch him anyway, their chests connecting at the same moment his arms came up behind Wei Ying, hauling him the rest of the way, bringing him closer.

And then they were kissing—a little messy, a lot desperate, interrupted by Wei Ying’s smile and laughter because he couldn’t believe his luck. He clung to Lan Zhan and he held him just as tightly, hands curled around Wei Ying’s hip bones. Wei Ying tangled his hands in Lan Zhan’s hair, let his teeth catch his bottom lip lightly and grinned at the breathless noise Lan Zhan made in response.

It was everything that Wei Ying had thought he couldn’t have. It was happiness in a way he had never known before, and never wanted to know if it was not with him.

Lan Zhan kissed him like a dying man, like it was the answer to every prayer he’d ever made. And Wei Ying loved him—simply, selfishly, spectacularly.

They pulled away only to touch their foreheads together, breathing in the same space. Lan Zhan nudged their noses together sweetly; Wei Ying could feel this man smile, could taste it soft and lovely against his lips.

And then he heard the round of applause.

They both turned, surprised, and found the entire Lan family looking in through the front window of the cafe, cheering loud enough to draw the attention of even the passerby on the other side of the street. Lan Jingyi appeared to be sobbing uncontrollably onto an incredibly amused Nie Huaisang’s shoulder; just behind them stood Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue, leaning together and grinning in amusement even as they clapped the loudest, a knowing and happy smile on Lan Xichen’s face. Lan Qiren was the only one who wasn’t cheering, simply looking anywhere but at them, and Lan Sizhui was smiling like it was about damn time.

There was another cheer from behind them. Without looking around, Wei Ying knew it could only ever be Wen Ning.

Slowly, Wei Ying turned to look at Lan Zhan, who looked rather exhausted and put out by the whole affair.

“They’re non-negotiable,” Lan Zhan deadpanned, resigned. Wei Ying buried his head in his shoulder, laughing so loud it still echoed off of the wall. Lan Zhan’s arms around him tightened, just a little bit.

Wei Ying pulled away only far enough to take Lan Zhan’s head in his hands. He looked into sweet golden eyes, bright with the smile lingering on his lips, and he felt fireworks in his belly. Felt his heart shape into something permanent—something Lan Zhan-shaped.

“I love you,” Wei Ying whispered. He pressed a kiss to Lan Zhan’s nose, his eyelids, the middle of his forehead. Lan Zhan’s hands tightened on his waist, and Wei Ying’s voice was low and just for the two of them when he promised, “It could have never been anyone but you.”

And, because it was a perfect happily after, Lan Zhan whispered that he loved him back and kissed him like he meant it. Because he meant it. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the end of everything, but instead the beginning. Wei Ying still had to find out what Lan Zhan knew, needed to know if they were on the same page. He needed to call his siblings as soon as possible, needed to make sure that on their visit they were able to meet the love of his life, too; he had no doubt there would be far too many Lan family dinners along the way, as well. 

There were plenty of years to live through, plenty of adventures to have, but he had no doubt Lan Zhan would be there for every step of the way. His lovely, happy little forever.

And when Lan Xichen, a teasing smile on his face, inevitably asked when along the line Wei Ying fell in love with his little brother, Wei Ying knew exactly what he would say: It was while you were sleeping.