Work Text:
The swing of his blade runs out and slowly the world is coming back to him. He realizes he is panting heavily, his left shoulders hurts like hell from a stab wounds that hasn't stopped bleeding yet and his muscles are sour. Baxia is both content and still excited for more, humming low beneath his touch. It takes an awful long time for his mind to recover from the heat of the battle and when he can finally focus on anything else, the dust around him has already settled. Two halves of a red-clad corpse lie before him, streams of blood soaking the earth. Taking in his surroundings he is greeted by more dead bodies, counting would prove to be an effort. Zonghui strides to his side, a nasty cut on his right arm and a laceration on his forehead but very much alive.
"We're losing the hill over there, if we don't support them the Wens will crash into our flanks and scatter our troops," his second-in-command exclaims and Mingjue orders his fighters to follow without taking a minute to ponder upon the situation himself, very well aware that it would cost them precious time. He knows Zonghui has way better track on what's happening, for his own attention had steadily been dragged away by Baxia along the fight, his mind occupied with determination growing into fury.
They take a moment to gather, breathing heavily from the previous fight, then storm upon the hill united to save their diverging flank and keep their camp from being worn down. The sprint is enough to get his blood boiling again, the humming of his blade, full of anticipation, soothes the aching pain in his muscles, her never resting spirit keeping him awake and functioning despite fighting for way too long this day. He knows his subordinates are exhausted to the bone, but right now they're fighting not to be overrun, so it's a us or them situation and they need to keep going.
His swings Baxia at the Wens in front of him, who just turned their attention towards their charging forces. The glare is enough to send the first line swaying and then they crash into the enemy, Baxia rejoicing, Zonghui next to him, barely a step behind although he sees that his injuries are wearing him down, only one saber is moving steadily. Mingjue knows most of his own strength does not come from him anymore but Baxia and subsequently she's invading his mind more and more. He is fleetingly aware of it, but can't help being dragged away. They're slicing their way into the enemy's forces, the world around him fades into shadows of grey and red once more, the sound of clashing blades ringing in his ears. Even with his close focus he is aware that soon there is no way forward and both fronts come to halt, more or less. It's good those red robes stand out, even on a battlefield, otherwise he'd really be a danger to his own fighters when Baxia takes the better of him.
Pain flares in his thigh, Baxia cuts off clean the other man's hand. Mingjue finds himself trapped from three sides, Zonghui able to defend his back. He sees clearer now, the sharp pain a helpful distraction from her luring lust. He is not subsiding further this time when he lunges to his left to drive back the Wens trying to separate him and Nie Zonghui from the rest of their troops.
There is clamour in the Wen lines, or maybe from behind, and when a beheaded man opens the view for him, Mingjue's eyes catch a glimpse of white along the fighters. He briefly wonders if Wangji is back from his search for Wei Wuxian, but he honestly doubts his presence even if he was; the Lan Sect is desperately trying to keep their ground since they just managed to get part of Gusu back after Wen Xu's surprise attack, he'd be needed there. Red robes block his view again and he has nothing else to think about than swinging Baxia. Another five men fall to his blade and out of the corner of his eye he notices further disturbance in the Wen lines. Mingjue is grateful for it as it gives his own forces the chance to catch up and stand on even ground, not forced to fight uphill anymore. He catches a strike that Zonghui's right hand saber is too slow to block and kicks the Wen soldier's chest in for the poor attempt to rid him of his best man.
He can spare a glance around, their numbers are roughly even, but his man are tired and should have seen a healer a long time ago. As should he, if he is honest, but if he is going to die fighting he is fine with that. Probably a lot better than someday going down in a qi deviation (one he's feeding and tending to right now, knows the small, reflecting part of his mind). Mingjue pays the death of three more Wens with a pommel to his face, breaking his nose, and a blunt strike to his chest breaking a rib or two. His breath goes rattling and he spits blood, never a good sign, but neither Baxia nor the Wens care to give him a moment of rest.
The Wen commander, he doesn't know him, charges in and Mingjue can see the hope flaring in their enemy's eyes. He barely has time to curse as the man lunges forward, but he is stopped before even coming close to Mingjue when an elaborate, precise to the point strike, followed by a flash of white, cuts clean through hand, arm, shoulder and finally ever so carefully and elegantly opens his throat down to the bone. The commander drops dead to his feet, the first men to his left and right get sliced up from head to toe and the other way round respectively, opening a breach for the Nie troops in the Wen front line.
For the first time in this fight Mingjue halts for a moment, watching. He recognizes Shuoyue in an instant and he feels his heart leap at the sight of her and the man she belongs to. The flatter of stained white robes and the wild wave of black hair ceases for a moment as he stills and half turns to Mingjue. Xichen's tall and slender figure stands bright against the mass of red behind him and his face shines as brilliant as the snow white sword gleams in hand. He waits patiently for Mingjue to catch up with him and the Nie men that have already stormed the breach, opening it further.
"Xichen," he rasps, surprised and endlessly relieved that his friend lives, that he stands in front of him, waiting for Mingjue to join him, to fight side by side.
"A-jue," Xichen answers, delight and fondness in his clear voice, and with the widest and most beautiful, ravishing smile on his lips. Mingjue takes the steps up to him, they are the lightest he does this day. Xichen's slender fingers brush his hand with the slightest of touches, trailing down Baxia's blade, Mingjue feels her hum in response.
Xichen tilts his head, hinting to the battle in front of them, and Mingjue nods. They turn to face their enemy head on, the last thing Mingjue sees before they charge is the soft expression on Xichen's features harden, his dark golden eyes fierce and unyielding. Reaching their foes they raise their blades in unison, Shuoyue strikes first, fast and true, and Baxia follows hard and unforgiving. Mingjue feels her joy, her spirit vibrating with his racing heartbeat. Xichen takes the enemy by storm, strength and pure energy radiating from him, his very being an inspiration to not only Mingjue, but his men as well. He's a whirling rush of deadly white and silver, but never strays far from his side as if watching over him. Mingjue's heart feels warm and excited, but it's different than before.
With Xichen's unrelenting force they manage to lay waste first to the soldiers that had been trying to overrun their flank, then to the entire Wen company attacking their camp. The last man falls and when Mingjue hooks Baxia on his back again, letting go of her hilt, pain, weariness and exhaustion immediately crash into him. He staggers back a few steps before finding his balance, then leaning forward to ease his breathing. It takes a moment for the first wave to pass and he feels better by a margin. Mingjue lifts his head to look at Xichen. His friend is standing a few steps away, sword still in his hand. As he meets his gaze, Xichen's lips curl into a heartwarming smile, Mingjue grins back, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. Xichen is a living masterpiece of art, grace and beauty in godly perfection and it is a joy to look at him. He sees the blood and the dirt, smeared all over his white robes and jade like skin, he notices how lean, not simply slender, he is, how his cheeks are hollow and haggard and his features have grown hard and sharp, but in Mingjue's eyes it does nothing to diminish his beauty. He can't deny a distant feel of anger though, towards the man responsible for putting Xichen through this.
A shiver runs through Xichen's entire body, Shuoyue slips from his hand and drops to the ground, his eyelids flutter and then he collapses. Mingjue is not fast enough to catch him, neither is Zonghui, and so Xichen hits the ground, stops moving. He rushes to his side, ignoring the pain running through his body and the ache in his muscles, and searches to feel Xichen's pulse. Moments of desperate worrying later he finds it, weak but steady, and a constant, low stream of qi as well.
"I fail to find any severe wounding," Zonghui notes in addition and Mingjue sighs in relieve.
"Fatigue," he concludes. And though it pains Mingjue to see him like this, it's nothing some rest and care won't cure.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Back in his tent Mingjue sits still, Zonghui being dragged away by the healer to have his arm looked over. It's calm and silent inside, the tent is closed, keeping noise and bustling activity outside. The healer had been steady and precise in her work of stitching the worst wounds, taking care of his severed lung and making sure all broken bones are in correct position for healing. Mingjue is not supposed to leave or move a lot until his core has started to heal his injuries and he is determined to listen for once.
His bed is mostly occupied by Xichen who is still passed out, covered beneath blankets. Mingjue had insisted he'd be examined first and so the healer had assured him that his friend is going to be alright and Mingjue doesn't plan on leaving before he actually is. He steps over and sits on the bedside for a while, contemplating the day. It has been a close call and without Xichen they wouldn't have stood a chance, he had found exactly the perfect time to come back from where ever the hell he had been.
He reaches out and lets his fingers run through Xichen's hair, straightening the messy strands. Xichen wears grey Nie underrobes now because they had to give his own soaked and torn white robes to mending, the hairpiece sits on the bedside table, his hands and face are washed clean again. Mingjue takes time to closer examine his friend: his fingers, they have always been delicate and slender, are bony now, his skin in general has taken an unhealthy, greyish tone, his lips are pale. From close up the months on the run are clearly displayed on Xichen's face, jaw and cheekbone look as if they were cut from stone, there is nothing soft and smooth left in his features; his cheeks have sunken, adding to the haggard sight he makes in general. Lines of worry have made their way to the place between his brows, joining the lines of laughter on the corner of his mouth and around his eyes with which he had probably been born with. Mingjue doubts there is a condition in which Xichen will not be beautiful, but the sight hurts nonetheless. He wonders what his friend had to endure on the road, chased by Wen soldiers, and feels the desperate need to learn about and then strangle anyone who dared to hurt Xichen. But his questions will have to wait, Xichen is still passed out and they both are in dire need for rest. So Mingjue discards his outer layers of clothing, puts his boots away, takes out his hairpiece, pins and headband, but leaves the hair braided so he won't need time to do it in the morning. He climbs over Xichen, careful not to disturb him and lays down next to him, knowing his friend doesn't mind. Mingjue has always loved sharing a bed with Xichen, his friend radiating a calmness he doesn't find anywhere else.
Sleep comes easy, easier than in most of the nights he'd spent on the front.
He is awake again way past morning, obviously nobody felt the need to wake him, but at least someone brought food and tea and his daily correspondence. Slowly he works through it, yesterday's fight still sticks in his bones and mind, and discusses it with Zonghui and his officers in low voices as well as their strategies for the coming days. The healer checks up on him, mostly content with his process, and Mingjue's eagerness to complain about everyone fussing over him does the last to assure her that he is healing well.
He looks over to his bed, Xichen is sleeping soundly, curled up like a child, one hand resting against his cheek. It's a sight to behold and he feels calm and content from simply watching him. If Huaisang was here he'd probably never hear the end of his teasing. Mingjue turns his attention back to the letter to said brother, finishing the last sentences and then setting it aside. He takes a deep breath, suddenly feels how much he needs this moment to rest and closes his eyes. His life had always been demanding, not only starting when he first closed his hand around Baxia or when his father died way to early, but he'd always managed and most of the time quite well so, as he is inclined to believe. War was a different kind of demanding and he is managing this as well, but he knows he can't do it forever and neither can his men and their allies. It's been only two months by now and he knows it's already getting to him, knows Baxia is getting to him, but everything feels lighter now that he knows he has Xichen again to support them.
Something rustles next to him and he turns to look at Xichen again. The man is shifting, stirring and Mingjue is already kneeling beside his bed when his eyelids begin to flutter. Seconds later a dark golden gaze looks him over.
"A-jue," he says, voice still heavy with sleep. "Your nose is broken," this time a slight hint of worry and by far a lot more of amusement runs in his voice. Mingjue bursts into laughter and it burns in his lungs, but it does nothing to diminish the joy he feels rising in his chest. Xichen's smile is smug, definitely more than it should be after just waking up from exhaustion.
"For the fourth time," he answers, shrugging, then grins. "I still like the time you managed to do it best."
Xichen chuckles, brightly. "Ah, yes. You never laughed louder."
"I will never forget your shocked face. You were horrified."
Xichen frowns and it's adorable. Mingjue smiles and reaches out with one hand to tuck a wild strand of hair behind Xichen's ear, careful not to touch his ribbon. Then gets up from his knees and lowers himself on the bedside instead, while Xichen hauls himself into a somewhat sitting position. It's now that Mingjue can't hold back the questions swirling inside his head anymore.
"What happened after Cloud Recesses? Where did you go? Have you been back to Gusu? How-"
"One question at a time, Mingjue. I believe for the moment we have enough time," Xichen interrupts softly, catching his gesturing hand, his fingers curling around Mingjue's, and holding it close.
Mingjue breaths deeply to calm his mind. "How are you?" he then asks the only actually important question. "And fine is not an answer I am going to believe."
That Xichen doesn't refer to the rule of no lies is an answer of its own. "Better than most of the time lately."
Mingjue inhales sharply. "I'd very much like to gut every person responsible for your suffering."
"You're already working on it."
"And nearly failed to do so yesterday, if not for you intervening. You were like a storm, deadly and brilliant and wild, you really deserve your title."
Xichen smiles, then his eyes widen in shock. "Yesterday? I was out for more than one day?"
Mingjue nods slowly. "Well, you passed out. Cultivators don't do that very often, but you look like you've been on the edge of utter exhaustion for weeks, so it's no surprise you suffer from fatigue. When was the last time you ate?"
"Uhm," the fact alone that Xichen needs to actually think about it for a moment makes Mingjue want to hit something. "I had breakfast, two days before yesterday."
He stares at him, angry and judging and most of all worried, Xichen raises his shoulders apologetically. Shaking his head in disapproval, Mingjue gets up and makes for the entrance of his tent. "Please send someone with an early, extensive dinner, Zewu-Jun has woken and definitely needs to eat," he instructs one of the guards, who immediately leaves to the supply tent.
Mingjue sits back on his bed, turning to Xichen again.
"Can you please take care of yourself as well and not only of others?" he asks and Xichen nods with a faint smile. "I can try."
That's probably all he can hope for, so he tries to be satisfied with it.
"So, what's your story, what happened after the burning of Cloud Recesses?" he picks up where he left earlier.
Xichen shifts a little uneasy, barely meets his gaze when he shakes his head. Mingjue can't prevent the frustration from showing in his questioning look, wrinkles his nose.
"You just said to take care of myself. I am willing to tell you tomorrow, parts of it. Some things I can't tell right now, some I could but rather don't. I've just lived through it, give me a night of peace."
Mingjue smiles in sympathy. "Any time you need," he says. He is desperate to hear the story, but Xichen's well being is more important, so he won't rush him. And he should really take advantage of Xichen complying to his caring attempts so easily. So Mingjue reaches for the tray on his desk and places it on the bedside table, then pours them each a cup of tea. Xichen accepts it gladly, drowns it in one sip and Mingjue refills it in an instant. His friend seemed to have missed on drinking enough as well.
"Anything else you need?" he inquires, mind heavy with guilt. He should have cared a little better from the start. "Are you comfortable? Are you cold? I can bring you a second set of robes, that will keep you warmer," he adds, already halfway getting up to fetch another set of his own clothing. What did he think leaving Xichen just with this thin inner robe?
But Xichen reaches out to place a hand on his arm, smiling. "It's alright. Just stay close, will you?"
Mingjue lowers himself again and decides to take a bold move, not sitting on the side this time but right next to Xichen on the bed, like they hadn't done since they both have been innocent teenagers. Xichen immediately leans towards him, head now resting on his chest. That is enough confirmation for Mingjue to wrap his arms around him, pulling him close. As Xichen stops moving, having found a comfortable position cuddling to him, and closes his eyes, Mingjue realizes how much he has missed this. He is vaguely aware that soon a servant will arrive with dinner, but he can't bring himself to care about them displaying way too much intimacy for their professional relationship.
It's actually Zonghui who brings dinner and it is way enough for both of them, the tray almost bigger than the small table.
"Chifeng-Zun, Zewu-Jun," he greets, bowing. "I hope you are feeling better, Young Master."
Mingjue nods in greeting, Xichen raises his head, he looks like he has almost drifted away to sleep again, and with some effort tries to free his arms from the blanket and Mingjue to bow, but Zonghui quickly intervenes.
"No, please don't. Zewu-Jun, you have done so much for us yesterday, please rest."
Xichen gives him a smile, one of those that could melt stone if he wanted to. "Thank you, Nie Zonghui. I am glad that I have found my way to you when you were in need. And as for your kind concern, I can't say I am energetic or alike, but just right now I'm feeling quite well."
"I am glad to hear this. Please enjoy your meal."
He bows again, Mingjue and Xichen nod in return to him, then his second-in-command leaves the tent, a not so well hidden grin sparking on his lips when he sees Xichen already resting his head on Mingjue's chest again just before he closes the tent's front plane.
"Xichen, you need to eat something before you sleep again," Mingjue insists, shoving a bowl of soup in Xichen's hand and gets another one for himself, setting a good example. "And if you don't eat by choice, I will shove it down your throat. You're not starving under my watch."
"You know, I usually comply to your wishes, no need to be bossy. I'm not Huaisang," Xichen grumbles and obediently takes a first spoon of soup, adorably wrinkling his nose when the steaming soup burns his lips.
"Should I blow on it, so it's not that hot?" Mingjue asks chuckling. Xichen shoots him a glare that is half hearted at best, even for his standards. Then he holds up another filled spoon, expectantly. Mingjue stares at him baffled, then laughs before carefully blowing on the soup. Xichen beams and happily eats his soup. It's a small price to pay, Mingjue thinks, and after blowing on several spoons he begins to enjoy it.
"You know, the last time I did this was when I was eleven. Huaisang had caught a very bad fever and was refusing every healer and our father as well. I was the only one able to get him to eat."
"Wangji was always like that as a child. I mean, he has rarely been sick, but he'd only ate what I fed him and only drank tea I made. And somehow he could always tell if it had actually been me preparing the kettle."
"Of course, it's Wangji we're talking about."
They both let out a chuckle, Xichen's soft and clear like fair winds in the sky, Mingjue's rumbling hearty and deep in his chest.
It takes less effort getting Xichen to eat at least half of the food they've been served than Mingjue has expected, he likes to think it's a feeling of safety that brought back a sense for other basic human needs like eating. Xichen tends to his forth cup of tea by now, slowly sipping on it, their conversation has run out into content silent coexistence. Mingjue has pondered and decided on daring to bring up another question, hoping it won't affect Xichen's current state of tranquility.
"Does anyone else know you're alive and back? Have you been back to Gusu?"
Xichen nods, not to distressed. "The first place I went after regaining some strength. We have taken Cloud Recesses back, shufu is securing our front lines now."
"I'm glad to hear you have back your home, albeit it being in its demolished state."
A faint smile from Xichen, before his face goes grave.
"You've been wearing white," Mingjue comments hesitantly. He is so not good at conversations like this (maybe emotional conversations in general), but Xichen has nobody else to talk to and it's a topic that has been evident.
"Father," is the only word he brings out right now, Mingjue sighs. It's the answer he has suspected. Like with his own father it had been a matter of time, Qingheng-Jun had spent the last months since the devastating attack slowly but steadily dying, as Mingjue had been informed. With his Father gone, Xichen would take over leading his Sect, there was no reason for Lan Qiren to do so anymore in place of his older brother.
"I should feel sad, or angry maybe, right?" Xichen asks, looking at Mingjue. "You were devastated when your father passed away a few years ago and Wangji is too, but I cannot get myself to care, honestly. I don't feel anything at all. His death is not affecting me in any other way than that from now on shufu will assist me and not the other way round. I am shocked by my own lack of emotion."
Mingjue pulls him close in his arms, partly to comfort Xichen, partly himself because talking about fathers always hurts deep. "That's alright, Xichen. Maybe it will come after a while, maybe not. It's not like he has made much impact to your everyday life. Our to the world in general, I've not seen the man once and he was a fellow Sect leader."
"I'll make up for it and visit as often as I can," Xichen says, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"I will hold you to that, my friend."
"Don't worry. I'll need your advice and your experience."
Mingjue shakes his head. Xichen is young, just twenty years of age, but at least he is a few years older than Mingjue was when he took over, his uncle trained him well and he has a brother old enough to support him rather than having to be raised. And he has his kind, diplomatic smile, his natural talent in communication and an everlasting patience which will get him through everyday business, and an enduring spirit, sharp mind and strong backbone to get him through crisis. He'll make a fine sect leader and unlike Mingjue himself he is likely to not struggle so heavily with it.
"I doubt that. But you'll still get it if you want."
"Thank you," Xichen says, emphasizing it as he is answering primarily the first, not the latter.
"Did it grow worse again for you, with the war? Your duties and everything?" Xichen adds after a pause, his fingers tracing the skin on the back of Mingjue's hand.
Mingjue wrinkles his nose. He takes his time pondering before he can offer Xichen an answer. "Yes and no. Huaisang manages politics and daily business like finances and logistics right now and honestly, I should just leave him to those tasks after the war. He might face trouble motivating himself but still does a better job at it than I do. Strategies, battles, fighting, I am good at this I've realized; and though I hate that it came to this, it goes of my hand rather easily. But well, it's still war and everyone of us is burying way to many corpses these days."
And there is the thing that with every ruthless fight, with every next person dead at Baxia's blade, at his hand, he makes a step further to his own death. She grows stronger a lot faster than him these days and though he once thought he might last into his forties, maybe make it to fifty, by now he is sure he'll die younger than his father. In some way, Wen Ruohan will kill him too, just a lot slower. He pushes the thought away as usual, not wanting to spoil the feeling of warmth caused by Xichen's presence.
"I'll listen to your worries if you'd like to get them off your chest," Xichen offers, not out of polite kindness, but because he deeply cares, as Mingjue has learned by now. He still doesn't always like the idea of sharing the weight on one's shoulders.
"Thank you. It's fine at the moment."
Xichen furrows his brows, clearly not convinced. "A-jue..."
"Xichen, look, you have so much to worry about, I don't want to burden you with any more."
"Not knowing doesn't mean I suffer less, I'm just worrying about you being not well and me not being able to help instead of despairing over the truth," Xichen says, gifting him a soft smile.
"Not now, Xichen, please," Mingjue rests his head against his, buries his face in Xichen's soft hair, inhaling the familiar scent of juniper that still clings to him. For him it's the smell of an untroubled childhood, of playing, training and sleeping alongside Xichen, of growing even closer to a point that there was always a small part of him missing when his friend wasn't there, no matter how many letters they exchanged.
Xichen brings up his arms, curls them around Mingjue, humming soothingly. There is nothing more comforting than his presence, nothing more calming.
"I've missed you, A-Huan," he almost sobs, his eyes filling with tears. "I was afraid for you. Afraid I'd never see you again, afraid someone took away the brightest star under the sky."
He suddenly feels he has denied a lot of his emotions and thoughts in the last months and they take him by storm now. Anger, guilt, stress and worries fear to overwhelm him, but there are still two warm hands firmly placed on his neck and upper arm, is a familiar melody to his ears and so in the end he is mostly crying from relief and happiness to have Xichen with him. He's not sure what he'd do if he'd actually lose him.
"Why didn't you write when you came back to Gusu?" Mingjue asks when he can utter understandable words again, it's been bothering him. He feels like he is making accusations, but really can't help it. "I was worried, you know."
Xichen frowns, pain visible in his eyes. "I wish it had been possible. But we all know messages get intercepted and shufu and I didn't want to give away the news of me having returned, to preserve the tactical advantage of surprise. Please accept my apology for withholding that information and leaving you to worries." Looks like he hit Xichen's guilty conscience hard, judging by him falling back into well trained patterns, although Mingjue has told him years ago that there is no need for it between the two of them.
"No need to be so formal. And of course I accept it," Mingjue answers, hugging Xichen a little tighter for a moment. "As long as you're here now, alive. That's all that matters."
Xichen cradles his head to the curve of Mingjue's neck, finger's curling into the fabric of his robes again. Mingjue let's go of him for the few seconds he needs to wrap the blanket around them firmly, still afraid Xichen's going to freeze in the cold Hejian lands. He is tired all of a sudden, but it is not surprising, judging by the emotional exhaustion he's feeling right now. A wave of his hand dies the candle flames save the one on the bedside table, his tent falling darker again.
They cuddle together, as close as when they got into a thunderstorm as children after sneaking out from Cloud Recesses and not finding their way back till night, clinging at each other for the sake of their life and sanity. This is everything he wants, badly.
"A-jue, will you promise me something?" Xichen suddenly inquires and the tone in his voice alone is way enough to get a lump in his throat. But who is he to deny him anything, so he nods slightly.
"What's on your mind, Xichen?" he asks, hesitantly, voice coarse.
"Please take care of yourself. I know you're in this with all your heart, I know it is important to you on a very personal level, but try not to get carried away. I've seen you on the battlefield yesterday and I'm worried about you."
There is nothing reassuring Mingjue can possibly bring up right now, he knows Xichen's words are nothing but true, and though usually he manages to push the matter away as he did earlier and ignore the growing danger of a qi deviation (it will get to him someday, he's accepted that), but now that he hears Xichen's voice thick with worry his heart aches. It's not a secret powerful Nie cultivators have a tendency to die young, but knowing the whole story to it is a lot to take. He should tell Xichen, he knows this, but it's so hard. Gods, he hasn't even told Huaisang yet.
"Mingjue?" Xichen asks as the silence grows long and he sounds so scared. He looks scared too when he lifts his head from Mingjue's shoulder.
"Xichen, I—," his voice breaks, he has a hard time keeping the tears from his eyes for a second time this evening. Being with Xichen is the only thing that gives him a feeling of absolute safety, where he will never be judged for his feelings, where he can come undone without receiving knifes in his back, instead getting offered a shoulder to cry on and hand to help. Everything offered, nothing demanded.
He can see his friend furrow his brows in confusion now in addition to his worries, somewhat surprised by his long silence. But as he still doesn't answer, Xichen raises a trembling hand to his cheek, tender fingers caressing his skin and with every stroke his movements become steadier. Mingjue will never not be fascinated by the strength Xichen pulls from caring for others. He leans into the calming touch, taking deep breaths.
"Will you help me trying to keep my mind clear?" are the words he finally manages to say. He will tell him and Huaisang both, but not tonight. Like Xichen, he needs a night of peace.
"Anything for you, A-jue," Xichen answers, kind and firm. He gifts him a beautiful smile, then straightens to press a soft kiss on Mingjue's forehead, it heals most of the cracks in his mind and heart right away, just like that. Mingjue hugs him tight, closing his eyes as he feels the tension inside him dissolve so easily by the mere grace of Xichen's touch.
Anything for you, that's my line, dear, he thinks.
Not everything's fine and well with this, but he is tonight and Xichen is too. That's all that matters.