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Lan Wangji is not normally awake at this hour. This hour being 11:55pm on a Friday. Much to his displeasure, he’d been held up late with a study group at the university, then his brother had needed him to come over and help with something, then his cab on the way home had gotten caught up in a, very minor but very annoying traffic accident, and he had not arrived home until 11:30. He is glad that no one was seriously injured in the accident and that he was able to help his brother and fellow students—he would not have chosen to do anything else—but it has disrupted his evening significantly. He’s turning off the lights in the kitchen and finally heading to bed when he hears some particularly emphatic cursing from the hallway. Normally this would be something to summarily ignore, but he has had a very long day and he would very much like to go to bed and not be interrupted. The apartment complex he lives in forbids loud noise within the hours of 8pm to 8am, so he is well within his rights to scold whoever it is that is making so much noise.
It is perhaps because he is so tired that he doesn’t recognize the voice until his hand is on the handle of the door. Or perhaps it is the nature of the next noise that is what makes it clear just who is outside. A frustrated ‘Jiang Cheng!’, a muffled curse, and a heavy thump. This all means that when he does finally open the door, his expression is mostly one of confusion rather than anger or annoyance.
What he sees when he peers down the hallway is… not entirely what he’d expected. Wei Wuxian is outside, sitting on the floor against the wall, as if he’d slid down (probably the thump). His arms are wrapped around his knees, his head is down, and he’s soaking wet, hair dripping and forming a small puddle beneath him on the tile.
“Wei Ying?” He calls quietly. There is no answer, and so he steps closer, crouches down beside his dark form. His long hair is a mess, come undone from its usual ribbon and fanned out across his black leather jacket. He notices then that Wei Wuxian is breathing heavily, and Lan Wangji’s concern only grows. “Wei Ying?” He says again, even softer this time but more urgent. Hesitantly he reaches out, resting his hand lightly on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, the leather cool to the touch.
Wei Wuxian’s head snaps up and he can feel his brows knit further together. His eyes are wide and dull, dark circles more evident than the last time he pulled an all-nighter for an engineering project. His skin is pallid, and he knows if he moved his hand a few inches to the left that it would be as damp and cool as the jacket.
“Lan Zhan?” He says, voice scratchy and uneven, eyes travelling slowly up, confusion evident. When their eyes meet, the world seems to pause for a moment, everything around them fading away and narrowing until the single point of contact they share is the only thing left. There is something very wrong.
Wei Wuxian breaks first, clarity coming to his face, and his scrambles up, swaying slightly. Lan Wangji stands as well, one hand on his arm, steadying him. Wei Wuxian glances done at his hand as if confused again before looking back up at his face once more. “Oh god did I wake you up? I’m sorry I was just—I should go, sorry, you should back to bed its really late for you, I don’t know what I was thinking.” He steps back a bit, Lan Wangji lets his hand fall, and he bends over to reach for his phone. The smile on his face is forced.
He frowns, shakes his head. “I was not sleeping.”
He looks down at Lan Wangji’s attire, which is very clearly nightwear, looks back up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Yet.” Lan Wangji amends, and Wei Wuxian lets out a huff of air, his lips twitching up into a more believable smile. “What happened Wei Ying.”
His face shutters again and he casts his eyes down. “It’s nothing, really, you should go to bed, it really is late. It’s not important.”
“Wei Ying.” The question is implied, he knows he does not have to speak the words to be heard. Not here. Not with him. He will not force an answer, will not pressure him but… Wei Ying is not one to share his troubles easily.
His face twists and he cannot seem to meet Lan Wangji’s gaze, preferring to look down the empty hallway instead, mouth a hardened line. “Come inside,” he says, “it is warmer.” It is more of an excuse than anything. He’ll give Wei Ying an out if he needs one.
Wei Wuxian pauses, clearly indecisive, so he makes the decision for him, walks back into his apartment, and starts making tea, leaving the door open behind him. If he doesn’t want to come in, he can leave now and not have to say a word.
He doesn’t. He follows eventually, shutting the door behind him as he does with a sense of finality. He holds his jacket awkwardly in his arms, hovering in the entry until Lan Wangji takes it gently from his grasp and hangs it on the coat rack by the door.
“Take your shoes off. Sit.”
Wei Wuxian does. He stares at his hands as he waits at the kitchen table, fiddling with a broken hair tie that he presumably pulled out of his pocket. He looks so out of place there, in the harsh lighting, hair still wet and tangled, trying to make himself as small as possible. He is still so beautiful it hurts.
Lan Wangji finishes making tea. He places one of the steaming mugs in front of Wei Wuxian who wraps his hands around it gratefully, takes a long sip. Lan Wangji waits, and though he would sit there forever if need be, it’s only a few minutes later that Wei Wuxian lets out a long sight and starts talking.
“Yu-furen kicked me out,” he’s not making eye-contact again, staring into his tea instead as if it will solve all his worldly problems. “I don’t know for how long this time. Maybe for good.” He laughs sardonically, “Serves me right I guess.”
“Wei Ying.”
“Oh don’t look at me like that… it’s my fault that things are such a mess anyways.”
“It is not.” Could not be further from the truth.
“That’s real nice of you Lan Zhan, but you have no idea what I’ve done.” He sounds bitter, not mocking, or at least not mocking Lan Wangji. He thinks privately that it may be directed towards Wei Ying’s own self instead.
“Do you have anywhere to stay?” He says instead of asking, because he knows he will not get an answer to the question he wants to voice. Ensuring his safety is the next best thing, and what he would do regardless.
Wei Wuxian smiles but there is no warmth in it. “Now that a-jie is back home no. Yu-furen won’t let Jiang Cheng host me either, he won’t go behind her back… I don’t blame him though; she’d know in a second and make his life hell…” he trails off. “I didn’t know where to go.” He sounds tired, he sounds so tired, and Lan Wangji wishes more than anything that he could fix all of this, could gather Wei Ying into his arms and spirit him away, but he cannot. Will not.
“Here.” He is resolute.
“What?”
“You can stay here.”
“Lan Zhan… you can’t just-” he sounds almost frustrated; in the way he gets when someone offers him something he believes he is not deserving enough to accept. It only increases Lan Wangji’s determination.
He is not above pleading. “For tonight at least Wei Ying. It is late.”
Wei Wuxian sighs loudly and scrubs his face with his hands, “okay, fine, alright. Just- just for tonight though.” Lan Wangji nods. He would let Wei Ying stay here forever if he wanted, there is already a place readymade for him, a hole carved out in his heart that stands waiting. That will stand, forever if need be, and if need not be. He will always have a place for Wei Ying.
But he will not keep him, will not cage him with the iron bars of something one could presuppose is love. He could not, and so Wei Ying will stay the night and that is all.
“I will get you some dry clothes,” he says, standing and heading into his bedroom, ignoring the spluttering behind him.
He stands in front of his open dresser drawers for longer than is probably necessary. Eventually settling on a soft cream sweater he rarely wears, and one of his extra pairs of sleep pants, light blue. They are the most comfortable things he owns. Wei Wuxian takes them from his arms when he returns to the kitchen, looks as though he’s about to say something, about to protest, but instead he bites his lip and takes a long, deep breath before stepping into the bathroom.
When he comes out, Lan Wangji swallows hard, and has to physically hold himself back from reacting any further. He knows his ears most likely betray his current state, but he hopes the low light will prove to be his saviour. He had not previously considered what Wei Ying would look like in his clothes; he knows now that it will be very hard to think of much else. He swallows again, takes some pride in the fact that his voice comes out relatively stable.
“I will take the couch.”
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian raises his voice for the first time since he’s arrived and it’s not much, but it is comforting to see this more spirited version of him again. “I’m the guest you can’t! I’m already intruding by being here, I’ll take the couch.”
He shakes his head.
“I’ve slept on much worse, it’s fine!”
“You are tired, you need to sleep comfortably.”
“Yeah and? So do you, you’re up way later than normal and I know you never sleep in.”
He takes a look at his bed through the open door. Considers.
“Fine.”
Wei Wuxian lets out a sigh of relief which very quickly turns into a squawk of alarm when Lan Wangji grabs his wrist, lightly tugging him into the bedroom. He resolutely ignores the warmth of Wei Ying’s skin under his fingers, avoids thinking about the pulse he can feel beating in his wrist, one that matches his own in frantic speed. “We will both sleep in the bed. It is big enough for two people.” A compromise.
He takes a bit of pleasure in the way Wei Ying’s face reddens, the way he splutters ineffectually and refuses to make eye-contact. Regardless of the reason for his bashfulness, it is gratifying to be the cause of it for once. “Lan Zhan!” He snatches his wrist away from where Lan Wangji is still holding it loosely, holds it in his own hand as if trying to retain the heat that settled into his skin from the contact. He ignores Wei Wuxian, climbs into bed and stares back at him, eyebrows raised.
He’s still standing there, shifting back and forth, and making aborted movements towards the bed. Lan Wangji worries for a moment that he has miscalculated, overstepped his bounds. At length, Wei Wuxian lets out a long-suffering sigh and sits nervously down on the bed on top of the covers. His hair is still unbound.
“Wei Ying.”
“What? What is it?” He’s fidgety, nervous, like a startled deer. It’s endearing in a way his early skittishness wasn’t, born out of embarrassment rather than fear.
“Let me fix your hair.” He’s not entirely sure what possesses him to say it, other than the fact that he wants to, and that it is a calming ritual.
“My-? Oh, I-”
“It will become tangled.”
“…alright.”
He fishes a hair tie out of the bedside drawer, and gestures for Wei Wuxian to turn around. He does so, although somewhat hesitantly, seeming almost wary of Lan Wangji’s touch, and there it is again… not the good kind. He feels a sharp pang in his chest but pushes it away, carding his fingers gently through Wei Wuxian’s long hair, working out the tangles. It’s still damp, braiding it will likely set it in waves. He wonders how Wei Ying will look with his hair like that. He looks forward to finding out. Wei Wuxian relaxes by degrees as he carefully plaits his hair. He doesn’t ever settle fully, there is a tension in his shoulders that will not release itself, but by the end he does seem at least slightly less upset, less wound up. He lets his hands fall back into his lap. Wei Wuxian turns slightly, his eyes just barely making contact.
“Done?” His voice is barely above a whisper, as if he’s trying not to intrude too deeply into the territory of the silence that holds them in its grip.
He nods. “Mn. Better.”
They both settle under the covers then, Wei Wuxian curled up on his side, as if trying to make himself as small as possible. Lan Wangji himself lies as he always does, perfectly flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The bed is large enough for the both of them but only just. He’d never seen the need to purchase anything larger, it’s not as if he was going to be sharing it with anyone, no matter how he hoped. This had not been in his plans. In his dreams perhaps but… not like this.
He never falls asleep to noise, does not need it to empty his mind, so the sound of Wei Wuxian’s breathing is almost deafening. It’s quiet, even in a way that sounds forced, as if he’s working incredibly hard to keep it that way. He lets his own breathing even out naturally, but he does not fall asleep, not right away.
They lie there together, breathing in the world in short sharp gasps and long measured inhales.
Wei Wuxian’s breaths begin to match his own eventually. He’s not sure how long it takes, how many minutes or hours pass as they both maintain the silence that has settled between them. Neither of them moves.
Until he does.
He turns his head, ostensibly to check if Wei Ying has yet fallen asleep, and is a little surprised to find a pair of grey eyes staring back. Staring into the distance would be perhaps more accurate, but as he turns his head, they move to meet him. He doesn’t say anything, cannot.
One of Wei Ying’s hands lies in the space between them, palm turned upwards, empty.
Words have never been his forte.
He lifts a hand off of his chest, as slowly as he can, Wei Ying’s fingers are cold to the touch, and his eyes widen a little at the contact, but he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t move at all. He keeps his touch light, merely resting his hand on top of the other’s, giving him as much space as he can. He does not pull away. After a long moment, their eyes still locked, Wei Wuxian moves, tangling their fingers together, so lightly that he feels as though if he so much as moves, that something will shatter. The contact feels like a lifeline, something both of them need to keep from drowning in this moment, as though if they were to let go they’d be lost at sea, swept out into the ocean that threatens to consume them both. He can feel Wei Ying’s heartbeat again, can feel how his own beats along in time. Tidally locked.
“Wei Ying,” he says, his voice a mere whisper, “why are you here?” He’s not asking the real question, doesn’t know how to. Why did you come here, of all places? When you were alone why did you come here, why did you come to me.
Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and his hold on Lan Wangji’s hand tightens. “I don’t know. I had—there was nowhere else, and I was freaking out and…” he swallows heavily. He doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, Lan Wangji knows that, like he would be Wei Wuxian’s last choice. “I shouldn’t have bothered you, I’m sorry, I just didn’t—I didn’t know what else to do.” His voice breaks on the last word, just barely, and Lan Wangji’s heart seizes in his chest like its been brutally grabbed. His free hand clenches, wrinkling the sheets, twisting them.
“You are never a bother Wei Ying…”
Wei Wuxian lets out a quiet, bitter little laugh. Almost too quiet to hear he says it, “I wish I could believe that.”
There is nothing to say after that, nothing he knows how to articulate. He desperately wishes there were more he could do to fix this, fix whatever is happening here, but he cannot if he is not allowed to. Wei Wuxian is drifting further and further from him every day, carried off by the waves, by the ever-growing storm, and he doesn’t know what to do. So, he does the only thing he can think of.
“I won’t leave.” He says, and holds on tighter.
Wei Wuxian’s eyes open in something close to shock and rush to meet his once more, the bitter smile on his face turning into something more genuine, but more sad. “Okay.” He whispers, and that is all.
They don’t let go, they don’t stop looking, until slowly, inexorably, they fall asleep together, eyes drifting shut of their own accord.
Lan Wangji sleeps deeply, and dreams of ocean currents and raging storms.
He wakes up how and when he always does, coming to awareness quickly. Any dreams he may have had fading from the forefront of his memory the way fog dissipates when the sun breaches the horizon, gentle but abrupt. All he remembers is something about Wei Ying being in his bed and he lets out the smallest of sighs as he forces himself to brush away that fantasy, it does no good to dwell on things that cannot be, no matter how sweet the temptation. Then he opens his eyes.
That is when he notices that something is in fact different today. He’s lying on his back as always, but he has moved in the night, or rather, someone else has, and he has accommodated them.
Wei Ying is in his bed. Wei Ying is lying on top of him.
He doesn’t dare close his eyes again. If this is in fact a dream, it is a startlingly real one and he wants to spend as much time in it as he can. If it is not… if it is not a dream, then there is even more reason not to do so in the hopes that he can sear this image into his memory. Burn in the afterimage like a television set left on too long so that he can superimposed over his vision for the rest of his life. Wei Wuxian is half on his chest, one arm and one leg draped loosely over his body. His hair has loosened from its braid somewhat, short strands curling endearingly around a face that is slack with sleep. His lips are parted ever so slightly and he’s breathing evenly, deeply. He looks calm, relaxed in a way that Lan Wangji has not seen for a long time, for far too long. It still strikes him, even after knowing Wei Wuxian for as many years as he has, how beautiful he is. Even like this he is perfect. Perhaps especially like this.
He keeps staring as the memories of last night return to him, bringing with them a small amount of guilt. He does not regret his actions, but perhaps it is not the best time, he cannot allow himself to watch for more than a few minutes. It feels too much like an intrusion on Wei Ying’s privacy to let it go on any longer, like he’s taking advantage of him somehow. So, he carefully extracts himself from Wei Wuxian’s clutches. As he gently rearranges his limbs, Wei Wuxian makes a disgruntled noise and he freezes, conflicted. Would Wei Wuxian be upset to wake up like this? Embarrassed? Angry? He lacks the desire to find out, does not want to contemplate the possibility of this being a negative experience for the other.
The moment passes, and Wei Wuxian does not wake, seemingly preferring to burrow deeper into the blankets with further nonsensical grumbling. He cannot help the small smile that drifts across his face as he pulls the blanket over him further.
He completes his morning routine quietly, moves breakfast to the tail end of it in the hopes that it will at least be slightly warm when Wei Ying wakes up. Luckily, it is a Saturday, and neither of them has class so he can afford to rearrange his life this much. Not that classes would do much at this point to put him off the endeavour either, but it’s nice to not have to even contemplate doing anything else.
He’s pondering whether or not he should put Wei Ying’s plate in the oven to keep it warm when he wanders into the kitchen, hair somehow messier than it had been two hours ago. His eyes are half-closed, he’s yawning, and it seems quite possible to Lan Wangji that he isn’t actually awake. What does him in in the end is the sweater. It’s designed to be oversized, had been on him, and though Wei Ying is not that much smaller than he has, his shoulders are not quite as broad. At some point, the offending garment slid halfway down one of those aforementioned shoulders, exposing one delicate collarbone.
He is very careful not to crack the plate.
Wei Wuxian stumbles into the bathroom half-blind. He’s been here enough times that he can apparently find his way to it half-asleep and that thought really isn’t helping Lan Wangji’s whole situation at all. He carefully puts the plate back down on the table and makes a cup of coffee with the machine he very rarely uses. In fact, the only use it ever gets is via Wei Wuxian’s presence in his home. It’s an expensive thing that was here when he moved in. He did not buy it, that would be ridiculous. He found it in one of the closets after the first time Wei Wuxian came over and had complained loudly about the lack of coffee. The previous owners must have left it there. A brand-new coffee maker. In the closet. In his newly built apartment. Lan Xichen had laughed when he saw it.
Anyways.
He makes coffee.
It’s done by the time Wei Wuxian wanders into the kitchen, looking marginally more alive. His face is washed, hair is brushed, and has been let down from its braid. He hasn’t tied it back up, and Lan Wangji again has to resist crushing the object he’s holding, because it is indeed slightly wavy from the braid. He knows how soft it is now and he longs to run his fingers through it. He settles for pushing the mug of coffee into Wei Wuxian’s hands instead.
He takes it with a grateful but raspy mumble of something that may or may not be a thank you and settles heavily into one of the kitchen chairs. Lan Wangji sits across from him and waits. He has never seen Wei Wuxian in this type of situation before, but he has seen him at this level of wakefulness, so he knows what to expect. As predicted, he gains awareness about halfway through his breakfast.
He acknowledges Lan Wangji’s presence fully with a slight smile. “Good morning Lan Zhan.” He says it so sweetly than Lan Wangji can almost imagine this is normal, that this is something he will get to have again. This quiet domesticity that leaves him with an ache in his chest.
“Good morning Wei Ying.” He hopes he does not look as hopelessly fond as he feels.
“Whattime is it?” He says around a mouthful of food.
“7:15. No speaking during meals.”
Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes and keeps eating. He doesn’t pay attention to that particular rule at the best of times, Lan Wangji knows this, but it must be said. It is always said. It is what they do. He states the rules, Wei Wuxian ignores them, he does precisely nothing about it. It’s routine. He likes routines.
Wei Wuxian is not as talkative during breakfast as usual, but that is to be expected given what occurred last night. He seems for the most part to be pretending that it did not in fact take place. The only evidence lies in the way Lan Wangji’s bed lies in disarray, the way Wei Wuxian is still wearing his clothes. There will be no remnant of this time except in his memory.
“Wei Ying…” he starts, not entirely sure where he means to go with it.
Of course, Wei Wuxian knows what he is about to say before he himself knows, or at least believes he does. He shakes his head. “I’m fine Lan Zhan. I’ll figure it out, I always do.” He smiles wryly at that last bit; his eyes are tired.
“You could stay here?” He tries.
Wei Wuxian’s smile turns teasing, “as much as I appreciate the offer Lan Zhan, I shouldn’t impose on you for another night. What would the neighbours think!”
That’s not it. “You could stay.”
It turns bitter now and he turns away. “You know I can’t.”
He tries not to sound desperate. “You could.”
He looks back, shakes his head one more time, looking for all the world genuinely apologetic. “It’s okay. I appreciate it, I really do, but I can’t.” There will be no argument, he knows this. He still wants to try, but the expression on Wei Wuxian’s face gives him pause, forces him to swallow past the lump in his throat.
“Your clothes should be dry.”
He finishes his breakfast. Lan Wangji cleans up.
He changes back into what he was wearing yesterday, folds Lan Wangji’s clothes neatly, places them on the end of the bed. Ties his hair up into a half-ponytail with the borrowed hair tie. Lan Wangji grits his teeth, makes him another coffee in one of the travel mugs he uses for his tea. It will taste of coffee when he gets it back. He wants it to.
Wei Wuxian takes it with a raised brow, but Lan Wangji levels him with what he hopes is a steady stare and he eventually gives in.
Their goodbye is short, unmemorable, except for the fact that it is. Except for the fact that he has intentionally seared it into his memory.
For the next time he sees Wei Wuxian, it will be the last.