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Lan Wangji gets the text from Wei Wuxian asking if it’s okay if he comes over exactly two minutes before there’s a knock at the door. Lan Wangji looks back at his phone, sees the cool that Wei Wuxian sent thirty seconds ago in response to him saying it was fine and sighs as he gets up to let him in.
“I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian says as soon as the door is open. He looks exhausted, past it really. “I know it’s late for you and I gave you zero warning but I didn’t realize I was coming here until I was outside of your building. Thanks for letting me come up, Lan Zhan.”
“Of course,” Lan Wangji says, stepping back to let Wei Wuxian in. “Wei Ying is always welcome.”
Wei Wuxian snorts and turns his attention to toeing off his shoes and putting on the red house slippers with little black bunnies on them that Lan Wangji keeps just for him. “Yeah, well, barging in less than half an hour before your usual bedtime with no warning is grounds for changing your mind about that.”
Lan Wangji pulls the scarf from Wei Wuxian’s neck, vaguely impressed that he actually remembered to wear it. “Wei Ying is always welcome,” he repeats as he hangs the scarf up and holds out a hand for Wei Wuxian’s coat. The too-thin fabric is cold to the touch and Lan Wangji wonders where Wei Wuxian had been when he’d started walking and ended up here.
“You’re too good to me,” Wei Wuxian says softly, eyes fixed on a patch of wall away from Lan Wangji. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Managed the scarf this time but forgot the gloves, as usual, Lan Wangji notes.
“Would you like some tea? Have you eaten?”
“Ah, Lan Zhan, you know it’s not your job to take care of me.”
I want it to be , he thinks.
“No, it’s yours and you’re terrible at it,” he returns waspishly.
It has the intended effect of drawing a real smile from Wei Wuxian, making his tired eyes light up. “Tea sounds great, thank you.”
Lan Wangji herds Wei Wuxian towards the living room and the couch with a hand to the small of his back. His clothes are cold too, a clear sign he was outside for far too long.
“Sit,” he tells him. “I’ll make tea.” Lan Wangji grabs the soft blue blanket that Wei Wuxian always threatens to steal and drops it on his lap. “Phone charger is in the normal place if you need it.”
Lan Wangji goes through the familiar motions of filling the kettle and preparing two cups as his mind fixates on his friend in the other room. It’s not unusual for him to show up or call at odd times. Wei Wuxian’s mind is a quicksilver, brilliant thing and often he wants to talk about some new idea or something that caught his eye in the park or a restaurant that he wants to check out.
It’s less usual for him to just let Lan Wangji bully him into sitting down while he goes to make tea on his own without even a protest. A normal night would include Wei Wuxian sitting on the counter despite Lan Wangji’s halfhearted glares and his chatter filling the pristine space.
He pours the water and then checks the fridge for food. There is a half-full container of noodles from the night before last when Nie Huaisang had dragged him out for dinner after they ran into each other on campus. They’ll likely be too mild for Wei Wuxian’s taste, but the chili oil he keeps around for Wei Wuxian hasn’t gone out of date yet, so it should be fine.
He pops the container into the microwave and taps his fingers against the counter in a rare show of impatience as the seconds count down. The longer Wei Wuxian is out of his sight, is silent in a way that implies nothing good, the more worry rises to strangle him.
Lan Wangji pulls a tray out from the cabinet and arranges the two tea cups, the container of noodles, chopsticks, and the jar of chili oil on it. He carefully lifts it and heads back in to the living room.
Wei Wuxian is staring blankly at his plugged in phone, the screen black and empty. He’s tucked in under the blanket, curled into a corner of the couch and Lan Wangji takes a moment to observe. He’d thought Wei Wuxian exhausted when he opened the door, but here in this quiet, unobserved moment it seems like more.
It’s like he’s emptied himself out completely.
Lan Wangji purposefully makes his steps louder as he approaches, watches Wei Wuxian startle and then greet him with a half-formed smile. Lan Wangji puts the tray down on the coffee table and takes a seat on the other end of the sofa.
“Ah, my Lan Zhan, always trying to spoil me,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes taking in the contents of the tray. “What am I going to do with you?”
Lan Zhan traps the love me, keep me behind his teeth with the ease of practice and reaches for his mug of tea. “You didn’t say if you’d eaten.”
Wei Wuxian’s expression twists. “Well, I planned to,” he mutters. He doesn’t say anything more, just shoves his phone between the couch cushions and picks up his tea. He makes a face when it burns his tongue and sets it back down in favor of the noodles.
Lan Wangji doesn’t wince at the amount of chili oil that goes onto the noodles only because he’s borne witness to the annihilation of good food too often over the past few years of their friendship.
Wei Wuxian practically inhales the noodles. He sets the empty container aside and goes for his tea again. There’s some color in his cheeks now, though whether it came from the chili oil or just being inside long enough is open for debate.
“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian says, mug pressed to his chin and knees pulled up.
He looks small like this. There’s something of an aching melancholy about him. It lingers behind his eyes, reveals itself in his tensed shoulders. Wei Wuxian is usually big, open gestures and bright smiles and loud ideas. Lan Wangji has a feeling that very few people have seen him like this, without all of that armor and nursing some unknown hurt. He’s not sure why he’s seeing it tonight.
“Of course.” He pauses, trying to gauge if he should ask or if Wei Wuxian just wants uncomplicated company.
Wei Wuxian sighs. “Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu are in town,” he says. He stares into his tea. “We were all supposed to have dinner tonight, me and Jiang Cheng and jiejie and the peacock and them.”
Lan Wangji recalls the earlier comment that Wei Wuxian meant to eat, recalls all the bits and pieces of his family situation that he’s let drop over the years and thinks he might have an idea of what happened.
“Turns out that Madame Yu doesn’t exactly consider me part of the family any longer since I switched to art. Apparently, I am shaming the family with my lack of ambition and desire to pursue a career that would let me repay the debt I owe them and it was extremely presumptuous of me to show up to family dinner.” Wei Wuxian’s voice is wooden and it’s clear that he’s reciting words that were said to him.
Lan Wangji wants to punch Madame Yu in the face. It’s not the first time he’s entertained the thought. He’s willing to accept all the consequences except for how it would upset Wei Wuxian.
Everyone had been baffled when Wei Wuxian dropped out of the competitive engineering program last semester and changed his major to art. He and Jiang Cheng were in the program together and it was clear that while Wei Wuxian had been thriving in it, his brother had been clawing his way through with difficulty.
Lan Wangji hadn’t known that the decision had such an impact on Wei Wuxian’s dealings with his family, though he’d noticed more tension than usual between the brothers when he’d seen them together.
“You don’t owe them anything,” he settles on.
“They took me in when they didn’t have to,” Wei Wuxian says. “I owe them everything.”
Lan Wangji sets aside his empty mug. “Wei Ying, you don’t owe them for doing their duty towards a child in need.”
Wei Wuxian bites his lip and says nothing.
“Your art is incredible,” Lan Wangi says firmly. “If they can’t see that, it is simply proof that they don’t deserve you.”
“Aiya, Lan Zhan, you can’t just say things like that out of the blue,” Wei Wuxian complains, finally looking up and meeting his eye. There’s a blush creeping over his cheeks.
“I obviously am capable of doing just that.”
Wei Wuxian smiles and reaches out a foot to kick at him lightly. Lan Wangji catches his ankle and doesn’t let go. Wei Wuxian doesn’t try to pull back.
“But yeah, I left before we were even seated and just walked until I ended up here.” He looks sheepish as he meets his gaze again. “I was already outside your building when I texted. Phone was at like 2%, too. So, like, thanks again for letting me in and all of this. You didn’t have to.”
“Wanted to,” Lan Wangji says. “Next time call me and I’ll pick you up so you don’t have to walk in the cold.”
He’s already scheming on how to get Wei Wuxian to accept a new coat from him. The scarf — warm and red and soft and more expensive than he’ll ever admit to Wei Ying — was hard enough already. It’s always a thrill to see him remember to wear it, though, so entirely worth the effort.
“Next time—” Wei Wuxian stops abruptly. “Lan Zhan.”
“Next time,” he repeats, promises. “Any time.”
Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath and then carefully puts his mug on the floor. There’s a wet sheen in Wei Wuxian’s eyes that wasn’t there before when he looks up. “Lan Zhan, I’m going to hug you and you’re just going to have to deal with it for a bit, okay?”
Before Lan Wangji can assure him that hugs are more than acceptable when coming from him, he has an armful of Wei Wuxian and blanket and is being pressed into the arm of the couch. He wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian and adjusts their position until the other man is positioned comfortably in his lap.
Wei Wuxian tucks his face into the crook of his neck, nosing the collar of his soft sleep shirt out of the way.
Lan Wangji might actually die here on his couch, but he’s going to go happy.
“You’re too good,” Wei Wuxian says and Lan Wangji can feel the warm wet of his breath.
“Wei Ying is good.”
Wei Wuxian presses his face into his skin harder. Lan Wangji moves a hand and dares to reach up and start working Wei Wuxian’s hair out of its ponytail. Carefully, he runs his hand over the freed chaos. When he presses his fingertips into Wei Wuxian’s scalp, Wei Ying makes a small pleased noise.
He keeps at it, alternating between the massage and just stroking his hair until Wei Wuxian is a melted puddle of a man on top of him.
It doesn’t seem possible that this is the first time they’ve done anything like this, that they don’t cuddle for a prolonged period of time on a regular basis, that he’s never had his hands in Wei Wuxian’s hair like this before tonight.
He tucks his face into the side of Wei Wuxian’s head, inhaling the fading citrusy scent of his hair products and the musk of a long day. The empty space inside his chest shrinks into nothingness. This feels like home in a way nothing ever has.
He wants to stay just like this forever, hidden away from the world with his arms around his best friend, around his soulmate, around the love of his life.
Lan Wangji yawns, his own long day catching up with him.
Wei Wuxian laughs into his neck and starts to pull away. Lan Wangji has to force himself not to cling.
“Guess I should let you sleep, huh?”
Lan Wangji just stares at him, cataloguing the dark circles under his eyes and the mole under his lip from up close. He’s a vision with his riotous cloud of hair and too-pale skin and faltering smile.
His Wei Ying, just like this, just like he is at his brightest and loudest.
“Lan Zhan?”
“Mn.”
Wei Wuxian tugs at a lock of his own hair. “Do you mind if I stay? I’m too tired to make the trek back to my place.”
The fact that he probably doesn’t want to see Jiang Cheng tonight is left unsaid, but understood.
“You are always welcome,” Lan Wangji says for the third time that night.
Wei Wuxian tilts forward again, hugging him once more. “You’re too much. How’d I get so lucky?”
“I’m the lucky one,” Lan Wangji says, too tired and too happy to watch his words as carefully as usual.
He feels the deep breath Wei Wuxian takes. “So, I can stay on the couch?”
“If that’s what Wei Ying wants.”
He wonders if Wei Wuxian can feel his heartbeat, rabbit-fast now.
“What if…” he trails off.
Lan Wangji squeezes with the hand that has come to rest on Wei Wuxian’s hip. “Ask for what you want, Wei Ying. I will not deny you.”
Wei Wuxian makes a muffled noise.
“Wei Ying?”
“Can I stay with you?”
Lan Wangji is certain his face would give away his confusion if anyone was looking. “I already said you could.”
“No, I know that. I mean, Lan Zhan, I mean can I stay… I want to stay with you. And it’s okay if that’s not okay with you. I won’t make it weird and we can forget I ever asked and I’ll just…”
“Wei Ying, slow down. I’m not going anywhere,” Lan Wangji says when he pauses in his rapidfire ramble. “Ask me for what you want. Take your time. Find what you want to say. I’m not going anywhere.”
Wei Wuxian is silent for an excruciating minute. “Lan Zhan, can I stay with you ? Not here in your apartment or here on your couch. With you .”
“Wei Ying?”
“I don’t want to be alone and I don’t want to be with anyone but you right now. Please?”
“Of course you can stay with me,” Lan Wangji says. He presses a feather-light into Wei Wuxian’s hair. “Always welcome. Are you ready to go to bed? You can borrow pajamas from me.”
Wei Wuxian nods and they slowly disentangle to head to Lan Wangji’s bedroom, together.
Wei Wuxian is still too quiet and too pale but he’s warm to the touch now and there’s something like hope shining in his eyes and an ease in the set of his shoulders. He’s here in Lan Wangji’s apartment and about to be in his bed and nothing has ever felt this right.
Lan Wangji is already under the covers with only the bedside lamps on when Wei Wuxian comes padding in from the bathroom, dressed in a pair of soft pajama pants with stars on them and a matching shirt. Wei Wuxian had smiled when he handed them to him and Lan Wangji smiles now seeing them on Wei Wuxian.
Wei Wuxian slides into bed and turns off the lamp on his side. Lan Wangji follows suit.
In the darkness, Wei Wuxian curls into him, one hand flung over his waist and a leg tangled with his. “This okay?” he asks, voice already dragging with sleep.
“Very,” Lan Wangji rasps out.
“Good.” Wei Wuxian nuzzles into his shoulder. “I like you so much, Lan Zhan. You know that right? So much. It’s crazy. I’m going to be so upset if I wake up in my bed tomorrow and this was a dream.”
“Not a dream,” Lan Wangji assures him. He feels overwarm with Wei Wuxian’s sleep-touched confession, feels like he could live on this feeling alone for the rest of his life.
Wei Wuxian is already asleep and Lan Wangji smiles fondly.
Tomorrow he’ll make sure Wei Wuxian knows this wasn’t a dream, that Lan Zhan likes him too and wants him to stay always.
Tomorrow he’ll make Wei Wuxian breakfast and maybe kiss him when he hops up on the counter to watch, just like he’s always wanted to.
For right now, he falls asleep to the gentle rhythm of Wei Wuxian’s breathing.