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Lan Wangji calls on a Tuesday evening with news that there’s been an accident. Lan Xichen takes the call, of course, but Jiang Cheng can hear bits of what Lan Wangji is saying – blood and wake up and please come – and puts the pieces together himself.
Jiang Cheng is so upset afterward that Lan Xichen doesn’t trust him to drive. This is the safe option, of course, but sitting in the passenger seat while his boyfriend drives at a reasonable speed is one of the most frustrating things in the world. Jiang Cheng has never had a problem with Lan Xichen’s driving, but he’s also never had to rush to the hospital upon hearing that his brother is in the hospital, and that is more than enough firsts for today.
“What exactly did he say?” he grits out.
Lan Xichen glances at him for a second. He seems to consider taking Jiang Cheng’s hand but ultimately decides against it. He says, “They were in a car accident,” which is not news. “Wei Wuxian is in critical condition.”
“Lan Wangji was with him?”
“Yes.”
Of course he was. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are all but inseparable these days. Jiang Cheng would have been surprised if they had been apart.
“Wangji is not seriously injured,” Lan Xichen continues, even though Jiang Cheng didn’t ask and couldn’t care less about whether or not Lan Wangji was injured. “He said Wei Wuxian saw the other car first and tried to protect him.”
This, too, is not a surprise, and logically Jiang Cheng knows that it is not Lan Wangji’s fault. Regardless, Lan Wangji had been at the wheel, and Jiang Cheng can’t help his rising anger.
“How could he let this happen?” he mutters under his breath. Lan Xichen stiffens slightly but doesn’t respond. Jiang Cheng isn’t thinking clearly enough to feel bad.
Wei Wuxian may be annoying, but he is precious cargo. As his longtime boyfriend, Lan Wangji should know this.
Jiang Cheng has said before that Lan Wangji has never felt a single thing in his life. Wei Wuxian disagrees, of course – he claims that Lan Wangji’s love runs as deep as the ocean and shines as brightly as the sun – but Wei Wuxian has always been biased when it comes to Lan Wangji. From Jiang Cheng’s unbiased perspective, Lan Wangji doesn’t deserve Wei Wuxian’s love if he doesn't love him back the same way.
When they arrive at the hospital, Jiang Cheng is out of the car before Lan Xichen has even properly parked. The next few minutes are a blur: running across the parking lot and into the building, barking questions at the front desk staff, racing up the stairs. By the time he makes it to the fifth floor, he spots Lan Xichen and realizes he had totally forgotten about the existence of elevators.
“Come on,” Lan Xichen says, grabbing his hand and leading him down the hall. Jiang Cheng briefly wonders why he is so familiar with the layout of the hospital, but before he can unscramble his words to say anything they’re already standing in the waiting area, where Lan Wangji is.
“You – ”
The word comes out garbled with rage, but Jiang Cheng can’t bring himself to continue.
Lan Wangji looks terrible. True to Lan Xichen’s recount, he’s not injured – only scratched up and bruised – but he’s pale and covered in blood, staring blankly at the wall. He turns slightly toward them at Jiang Cheng’s shout, looking disturbingly out of sorts, and the anger in Jiang Cheng’s stomach gives way to unease. While Jiang Cheng is busy taking in the sight, Lan Xichen quickly makes his way over to his brother, sitting beside him and grasping his hand.
“Wangji,” he says quietly as Jiang Cheng dumbly follows and stands awkwardly beside them. “Are you hurt?”
It takes a moment for Lan Wangji to tear his gaze from the wall. He blinks slowly and curls his fingers tightly around Lan Xichen’s. “Just whiplash,” he finally croaks.
That makes the anger flare up again, and Jiang Cheng bristles. It is wholly unfair that Lan Wangji gets off with fucking whiplash when Wei Wuxian is in critical condition. It is even more unfair since Lan Wangji was the one driving.
“Where the fuck is Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng demands.
“Surgery,” Lan Wangji says in the same fractured tone, which makes Jiang Cheng’s temper deflate again all of a sudden. Jiang Cheng watches in horror as a single tear makes its way down Lan Wangji’s cheek, followed by another and another until he is crying silently and shaking all over. “Wei Ying…”
Lan Xichen carefully pulls him into his side, murmuring so softly to him that Jiang Cheng can’t hear what he’s saying, but he doesn’t want to know anyway. He sinks into the chair on his boyfriend’s other side, feeling strangely numb, and waits.
—
By the time the doctor returns with news nearly two hours later, Lan Wangji’s crying has slowed, Lan Xichen is quietly stroking his hair, and Jiang Cheng has taken to pacing. All three of them jump up at the sight of him. Jiang Cheng gets there first.
“How is he?” he demands, not caring for formalities.
“The surgery was successful,” the doctor says. “He had three broken ribs, one of which punctured his lung, and a moderate to severe brain contusion. He is currently stable, but we are keeping him on a respirator for now, and we cannot be sure whether there is brain damage until he wakes up.”
Jiang Cheng thinks he might be sick. “When is he going to wake up?” he asks.
“Unfortunately, I don’t know the answer to that,” the doctor says. “TBIs are unpredictable and he lost a lot of blood.”
“But he’s stable?” Lan Xichen asks as Jiang Cheng tries to keep from looking at the blood all over Lan Wangji’s shirt.
The doctor smiles wanly. “Yes, he is.”
It’s then that Wei Wuxian is wheeled out of the OR, and Jiang Cheng’s stomach drops at the sight of him. He’s as white as a sheet and unnervingly still, and even without the doctor’s explanation Jiang Cheng would have been able to tell that Wei Wuxian is knocking at death’s door.
He can’t hear anything past the ringing in his ears as he follows the nurse to Wei Wuxian’s room, mind flitting through the worst possible scenarios. Wei Wuxian could wake up with no memory of his life. Wei Wuxian could remain in a coma or a vegetative state for the rest of his life. Wei Wuxian could die during the night.
Jiang Cheng really doesn’t know what he would do in any of those scenarios. He really, really hopes he doesn’t have to find out.
—
The next few days are some of the hardest of Jiang Cheng’s life.
He goes to work, as usual, but spends most of the rest of his waking hours in Wei Wuxian’s hospital room. Lan Wangji is always there and Lan Xichen spends some time with them as well, if only to drag Jiang Cheng back to their apartment every evening. He tries to persuade Lan Wangji to go home, too, but is rarely successful. Wei Wuxian continues to look like a corpse and Jiang Cheng’s mind runs wild with only the worst thoughts.
It is at times like this that he misses Jiang Yanli the most. She would know what to do and say in this situation; she is the kind of person who would be able to comfort them and keep them all from losing hope. She had done just that when their father got sick six years ago, and upon his death and their mother’s suicide, she had taken it upon herself to console Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian even though her world was crashing down too.
Up until then, that had been the darkest time in Jiang Cheng’s life. Losing both parents at once – his mother of her own volition – nearly tore him apart, and he had only made it through because of Jiang Yanli’s gentle, comforting presence and Wei Wuxian’s constant efforts to keep their spirits high.
But Jiang Yanli has been dead for four years and now there is no jiejie to comfort Jiang Cheng. There is no one around to crack terrible jokes when Wei Wuxian is lying motionless in bed with no signs of life other than the constant beeping of the heart rate monitor. Lan Wangji offers no comfort and Lan Xichen, though he tries, can’t offer enough for Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji to share.
Jiang Cheng has lost one sibling already. He does not know if he can bear to lose another.
—
A week after the accident, Jiang Cheng awakens gratuitously in the middle of the night. Lan Xichen’s side of the bed is vacant but still warm, so Jiang Cheng figures that he’s just gone to the bathroom or to get a glass of water. But after several minutes, he still hasn’t returned and Jiang Cheng finds himself pathetically unable to go back to sleep alone, so he gets up and leaves the room in search of his boyfriend.
He finds him standing by the doorway, holding a crying Lan Wangji. Lan Xichen is crying too, if the shaking of his shoulders is any indication, and Jiang Cheng’s heart clenches painfully in his chest. He has always hated seeing Lan Xichen cry, and while he doesn’t like Lan Wangji very much, it is so rare to see him show any emotion at all that watching him sob is deeply unsettling.
It must be the exhaustion of the past week that makes Jiang Cheng walk over to them. He deliberately makes his footsteps audible so as to not startle them, and sure enough Lan Xichen quickly wipes his eyes before turning.
“Did I wake you?” he asks, offering a shaky smile that does not sit right on his face at all.
“No,” Jiang Cheng lies. He looks at Lan Wangji, who has not reacted at all, and says, “Go sit on the couch. I’ll lock up.”
Lan Xichen nods gratefully and leads Lan Wangji away. Jiang Cheng locks the front door properly and tries to process the situation.
It doesn’t make sense. Lan Wangji rarely even smiles at Wei Wuxian most days, and he seems to barely tolerate Wei Wuxian’s affectionate touches and fond teasing. He’s never cruel, but he is very nearly indifferent to him. It’s completely at odds with the way he’s sat dutifully by Wei Wuxian’s bedside for days on end and the way he’s sobbing his heart out now.
When Jiang Cheng returns, Lan Wangji is curled into Lan Xichen’s side, trying to talk through his tears.
“ – too good,” he’s crying. “He doesn’t deserve this. It should’ve been me.”
“Absolutely not,” Lan Xichen says as Jiang Cheng sits down beside them. “If your positions were reversed, Wei Wuxian would be here agonizing over you. That is its own kind of suffering.”
“It is my fault regardless,” Lan Wangji says. “I was – it was me driving.”
Lan Xichen’s hand is shaking badly as he strokes Lan Wangji’s hair. “You were not the one who ran a red light.”
“It was supposed to hit me,” Lan Wangji says. “Wei Ying turned the wheel and threw himself over me.”
Jiang Cheng knew that Wei Wuxian had protected Lan Wangji, but he did not know this. By the surprised look on Lan Xichen’s face, he did not either. Lan Wangji chokes on a sob and repeats, “It should’ve been me.”
Rage bubbles up in Jiang Cheng’s throat, and he barely registers scrambling over his boyfriend to grab Lan Wangji by the front of the shirt. It should, indeed, be Lan Wangji. It’s just like Wei Wuxian to be a fucking martyr and put his own life on the line for a man who had never treated him the way he deserved to be treated. Lan Wangji has never deserved the kind of love that Wei Wuxian offers him, and he certainly doesn’t deserve to be the person Wei Wuxian dies for.
“Wanyin,” Lan Xichen is saying sharply, for what must not be the first time. Jiang Cheng realizes abruptly that he’s been talking out loud. Beneath him, Lan Wangji is stone-faced save for the tears still trickling down his cheeks.
Jiang Cheng releases his shirt, breathing hard, and collapses back into his spot on the couch.
“Wanyin,” Lan Xichen says.
“Sorry,” Jiang Cheng chokes out. “I’m – sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
“I did,” Lan Wangji says quietly.
Lan Xichen lets out a huge sigh and reaches out to take Lan Wangji’s hand while leaning over until his shoulder meets Jiang Cheng’s. “If Wei Wuxian had not turned the wheel, you would be dead,” he says. “That would have hurt him much more than this is hurting him now. This is not a matter of who was driving and who saw the car. Wei Wuxian made his choice.”
He’s right, Jiang Cheng realizes with a start. It’s a terrible thing to be right about, but it’s true.
Lan Wangji closes his eyes, his expression carefully blank. “If he dies…”
“He will not,” Lan Xichen says firmly.
“But if – ”
“Do not lose faith in him, Wangji,” he says, but Jiang Cheng knows that his message is not only directed toward Lan Wangji. “You must believe in him. If for now he does not have the strength to pull through on his own, then you must be there for him until he does.”
All is silent and still for a long moment. Jiang Cheng hardly even dares to breathe in the wake of Lan Xichen’s words.
Finally, Lan Wangji wipes his face dry and sits up. He leans back against the couch with a shuddering breath, gripping his brother’s hand like a drowning man would a lifeline.
They sit like that, shoulder to shoulder, until eventually they all doze off. Lan Wangji is gone by morning.
—
The whole experience seems so surreal that it feels like a dream. The only reason Jiang Cheng knows it’s not is because of the drastic change in Lan Wangji’s behavior.
His perpetual stone-cold expression has returned, but now he speaks while he sits at Wei Wuxian’s bedside. Jiang Cheng did not expect him to be a sentimental man, but Lan Wangji seems to have catalogued every minute he had spent with Wei Wuxian; after briefly discussing the weather and his own day at work, he tells stories of everything from pissing off Lan Qiren to arguing over spice levels at dinner. He talks until his voice is hoarse and then he talks some more, and when he thinks Jiang Cheng has fallen asleep he talks about how much he misses Wei Wuxian and how much he loves him.
But despite the blatant desperation in his words, he has not cried once since his breakdown and Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen’s apartment. He is as perfectly composed as usual, and now that Jiang Cheng has seen him express emotion, it’s strange to see him this way.
Somehow, the more time Jiang Cheng spends with Lan Wangji, the less he understands him.
—
“Why did you tell Lan Wangji that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t die?” Jiang Cheng asks a few days later. The reason, of course, is obvious, but Lan Xichen doesn’t ever lie and it’s unlike him to make such a bold statement about something so uncertain.
Lan Xichen’s hand stills where it’s tracing circles into Jiang Cheng’s hip, and he doesn’t respond for a minute. Finally, he says, “Because I don’t know what he’ll do if Wei Wuxian does die.”
“What do you mean?” Jiang Cheng asks.
There’s a longer pause after that question. Jiang Cheng waits patiently for the answer.
“You remember that our mother died when we were young.”
That is not the answer Jiang Cheng was expecting, but he nods anyway. “Yes. When you were eight.”
“Her death affected Wangji more than me,” Lan Xichen says. “He mourned her death for years and still he could not come to terms with the fact that she was gone. Until he was ten, he was truly convinced that she would return one day. Some days I thought he might not make it.”
“What do you mean?” Jiang Cheng asks again, feeling uneasy.
Lan Xichen looks pained. “For some time, I feared that Wangji would take his own life,” he confesses. “He never complained, but he was miserable. He spent three years alone at home with Uncle while I was in my first years of college, and from the way he sounded over the phone I was truly worried about his mental health.”
“You didn’t ask your uncle for help?”
“Uncle did not offer much room for unwarranted emotions.”
“It’s not unwarranted to grieve over your mother’s death,” Jiang Cheng says hotly, because he can still remember the raw anguish he had felt upon losing his parents. If Lan Wangji had felt anything like that, it was nothing to brush aside and nowhere near unwarranted regardless.
Lan Xichen squeezes his hand. “Uncle Qiren was kind to us, but he was not gentle. I suspect telling him would only have made things worse.” He looks away. “I did not see Wangji smile until he joined me in college.”
“When he met Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng guesses.
“Yes. He has been much happier since then.”
“This is him happier?”
Lan Xichen smiles sadly. “You did not know him until he was already close with Wei Wuxian. You have only ever seen Wangji at his happiest.”
Jiang Cheng thinks privately that if this expressionless state is the happiest that Lan Wangji has ever been, then it must have been torture for Lan Xichen to watch his brother grow up.
“I know you are not entirely convinced of Wangji’s love for Wei Wuxian, but try to understand,” Lan Xichen says. “He has never known love without loss. He is learning to be happy thanks to Wei Wuxian and I doubt he will ever love anyone else this way.”
“So if Wei Wuxian dies…” Jiang Cheng says grimly.
“He cannot,” Lan Xichen says, “because I don’t know what Wangji will do if he does. And I don’t know what I will do, either.”
Alarmed, Jiang Cheng sits up and stares at his lover. “You mean – ”
“No,” Lan Xichen promises. “There was a time when Wangji and I only had each other, but now I have you to live for. I won’t leave you behind. That is a promise.”
Jiang Cheng dives back down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, needing to touch him and feel him and know that he is there. Even if Wei Wuxian dies – even if Lan Wangji follows him – and Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen are left with nothing else, they will have each other, at least. That will have to be enough.
—
Once, when Jiang Cheng is actually half-asleep in his chair, he hears Lan Wangji go quiet after an amusing story of the time Wei Wuxian came to class drunk their freshman year. Lan Wangji never pauses for very long before starting on another wistful tale, so silence has become strange when he is there. The irony of this is not lost on Jiang Cheng.
A few minutes go by, in which Lan Wangji does not say a word. Jiang Cheng wonders if he has finally run out of things to say.
It turns out that he has not.
“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s voice sounds shaky, but he gives no physical indication of distress. “I miss you. Come back to me, just once more.”
His free hand – the one not already clutching Wei Wuxian’s – comes up to card through Wei Wuxian’s hair with a tenderness that Jiang Cheng could never have expected from him.
“You said we had all the time in the world,” Lan Wangji says. “My time is yours. I would wait forever for you as long as you come back to me. If things are different when you return… nothing will have changed about the way I feel for you. If you do not remember me, I will remain by your side until you decide you have had enough of me.”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes sting.
“I will give you everything you ask for,” Lan Wangji promises. “I will work on my lotus soup recipe until you decide it can properly honor your sister’s memory. I will get along with Jiang Wanyin and drink with you whenever you ask. I will play our song for you on every instrument until you can’t stand to hear it any longer. Whatever you want from me, you will have.”
There is one more pause. Lan Wangji bends and presses a soft kiss to Wei Wuxian’s temple before he lets out a shuddering breath.
“I do not know how to be without you anymore, Wei Ying,” he whispers. “Please do not make me have to learn.”
He doesn’t speak again that day. His silence is worse.
—
Even Jiang Cheng has to admit that Lan Wangji’s devotion to Wei Wuxian is undeniable. Lan Wangji has not attended any of his classes in two weeks, relying instead on emailed assignments and classmates’ notes, and he only goes home to sleep for a few hours before returning to the hospital early every morning. He does not seem to notice that he has lost weight and developed dark bags under his eyes. He holds his head high and if Jiang Cheng had not watched him fall apart before, it would be impossible to see the misery that he keeps hidden.
As it is, the little signs are glaringly obvious to Jiang Cheng: the too-tense set of his shoulders, the hushed quality of his voice, the way he squeezes Wei Wuxian’s hand and refuses to let go. Lan Xichen does not comment on these things, but it is clear his brother’s deterioration is breaking his heart, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how much more of this any of them can take.
—
It is nearly three weeks after the accident when Jiang Cheng finally musters up the strength to say, “It’s not your fault.”
Lan Wangji, who is between two stories, pauses and turns toward him, clearly surprised. Jiang Cheng swallows.
“I’m not happy that he risked his life for you,” he says, “but it was his decision, not yours. You said the car was supposed to hit your side, which means he saw it because he was looking at you, not because you were being careless or whatever. If you had been hit, you probably would’ve died. Knowing Wei Wuxian, he would have blamed himself for it for the rest of his life.”
Lan Wangji turns back to Wei Wuxian. “Mn,” he says.
Jiang Cheng raises his eyebrows. “That’s it? You don’t have anything else to say?”
“Nothing relevant to what you said.”
“Then say whatever you want to say,” Jiang Cheng challenges.
Lan Wangji sighs so softly that Jiang Cheng would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching closely. He wonders if Wei Wuxian and Lan Xichen have to be this attentive all the time to correctly interpret Lan Wangji’s every expression.
“Fine,” Lan Wangji says. “You’re wrong. Wei Ying is still alive, and already there are people who miss him terribly. He has already received many calls and messages and I do not doubt that even more people would have mourned him had he died. He hates to inconvenience anyone, so he would hate to see so many people upset over him.”
“So what?” Jiang Cheng says irritably, although secretly he’s relieved to hear Lan Wangji speak about Wei Wuxian as if there is no question whether he will survive. “He’s in pain now, but don’t you think living without you would’ve been harder on him?”
“Less people would have suffered over my death.”
“Bullshit!” Jiang Cheng shouts, jumping to his feet in anger. “You fucking imbecile, Lan Wangji. Do you have any idea how much Xichen loves you? Not to mention Wei Wuxian would have had to live thinking it was his fault you died. I don’t think much of you either, you know, but you mean the fucking world to the two most important people in my life and I wouldn’t have wanted to watch either of them waste away with you gone!”
The silence that ensues after that is deafening. Lan Wangji’s eyes are just barely wider than usual, and his knuckles are white with his grip on Wei Wuxian’s hand, but then the moment passes and he looks away entirely.
“Wei Ying will be pleased to hear that you care so deeply for him,” is all he says.
Jiang Cheng scoffs. “Of course I care,” he says. “He’s my brother.”
“You did not treat him like one after Jiang Yanli’s death,” Lan Wangji says flatly.
“I didn’t – ” Jiang Cheng starts to argue, but he knows Lan Wangji is right; his behavior had been inexcusable. Wei Wuxian, after all, had not been the bank robber, and he certainly hadn’t forced Jiang Yanli to take a bullet for him. Still, Jiang Cheng had not spoken to Wei Wuxian for nearly a year after that, even when he heard from Lan Xichen that Wei Wuxian had disappeared mysteriously, and even when news came, months later, that he had returned.
Jiang Cheng had abandoned him at a time when they needed each other the most, and Wei Wuxian had somehow forgiven him for doing so. He realizes belatedly that Lan Wangji was the only one who had been there through everything, waiting patiently when no one knew where Wei Wuxian went off to and not asking a single question when he reappeared out of the blue.
“Holy shit,” he hears himself say. “You really love him.”
Lan Wangji looks mildly exasperated. Jiang Cheng can’t blame him.
—
When Jiang Cheng walks into the hospital room Sunday morning, Wei Wuxian is wide awake. Naturally, Jiang Cheng’s first instinct is to get angry.
“You said you’d call me if he woke up, asshole!” he barks at Lan Wangji, who is curled up beside him on the tiny bed with his face buried in Wei Wuxian’s neck. Wei Wuxian looks up, startled, and stares openly at him. Jiang Cheng suddenly remembers what the doctor had said about the possibility of brain damage.
“Wei Wuxian,” he says, then hastily clears his throat when his voice comes out sounding strangled. “You – you remember me, don’t you?”
Wei Wuxian makes a face at him. “I don’t know.”
Jiang Cheng feels his heart drop into his stomach. “What?”
“The real Jiang Cheng doesn’t get up this early on weekends,” Wei Wuxian says, wearing a shit-eating grin and cackling when Jiang Cheng’s jaw drops. “Hey, hey, you can’t hit me, I’m still injured!”
“I fucking hate you,” Jiang Cheng says as he pulls Wei Wuxian – and, by proxy, Lan Wangji – into a tight hug. “Don’t ever fucking scare us like that ever again.”
When he pulls away, Wei Wuxian seems to have been stunned into silence. Jiang Cheng sinks heavily into Lan Wangji’s usual chair, right by the bed.
“You two are awfully huggy today,” Wei Wuxian mutters, cheeks pink.
“Don’t get used to it,” Jiang Cheng sneers.
Lan Wangji, on the other hand, shifts to press a kiss to the corner of Wei Wuxian’s lips, and is smirking a little when he pulls back. He’s a fucking monster. Jiang Cheng feels like he’s going to explode.
“Okay, fine, I get it,” he snaps, getting up. “Have your privacy, I’m going to call Xichen before I go blind!”
Wei Wuxian’s laugh follows him out the door, and despite Jiang Cheng’s complaints, he can’t help smiling to himself as he fishes his phone out of his pocket.
They’re going to be just fine.