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Why were war meetings so long-winded?
Lan Xichen had to fight to keep his posture upright as Chen Ju-ling, the leader of a tiny sect just north of Qinghe, droned on about the size of their forces, the whereabouts of the bulk of the Wen army, statistics and weaponry and… gods, he was about to fall asleep! Pull yourself together, he berated himself. You're representing your sect.
From the corner of his eye, he caught the fluttering movement of violet robes as the leader of the Jiang Sect disappeared out the door. His brow furrowed. Was Jiang Wanyin abandoning the meeting that easily? He laid a hand on Lan Wangji's arm, motioning discreetly to the exit and rising only when his brother nodded in understanding. Dismissing himself from the talkative crowd with a few polite excuses, Lan Xichen darted from the room and followed the sharp sound of retreating footsteps until he found himself enveloped by the heady scent of peonies in full bloom. The Lanling Jin Sect's gardens were radiant, their beauty unrivalled, but they weren't what he was focused on. Eyes roving the area, he searched for a familiar head of sleek black hair, strolling in and out of the maze of flowers for what felt like hours. He wasn't sure why he was so invested in Jiang Wanyin's well-being, and if he was being honest, his devotion frightened him in a rebellious, thrilling way. Fraternal connection, that must have been it. They both spent every second of their days about to buckle under the pressure of losing their families and keeping their sects from collapsing. Lan Xichen felt an unfamiliar weakness in his heart at the thought of Sect Leader Jiang, but the only viable reason for it was that he saw the similarities between them and wanted to help his ally through his grief. Fraternal connection, he repeated, closing his eyes to seal the message in his mind.
Rounding a corner, he heard labored breaths and quickened his pace. Lan Xichen had to swallow a shocked gasp when he caught sight of the tear trails and red splotches marring Jiang Wanyin's contorted face. The young cultivator was many things, but an attractive crier was not one of them. Freezing like a rabbit caught in a ring of hunters, Lan Xichen found himself at a sudden loss for words.
Glancing up at the sound of rustling fabric, Jiang Wanyin's eyes went wide; he swiftly covered his face and sank into an overly formal bow. "Sect Leader Lan," he greeted, expression twisting with displeasure when his voice, still fragile from sobbing, broke mid-phrase.
Xichen started forward, reaching out unthinkingly before snatching his hands back. Where had his meticulously inculcated self-discipline run off to? "There's no reason for such formalities between sect leaders," he replied with what he hoped resembled a comforting smile, raising his arms in a placating gesture.
Jiang Wanyin wiped at his nose, trying to compose himself. "Right." Several painfully awkward seconds of silence stretched on before he continued, "Forgive my bluntness, but might I ask what you're doing out here, Zewu Jun? Is the meeting over already?"
"I---ah, no, the meeting is still in progress, as far as I'm aware," Lan Xichen said, "but I noticed your absence and wanted to be sure you were alright."
His companion's fair complexion colored, his hands clenching at his sides. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm… I'm fine." His voice turned delicate, unsure, and a tangible ache flooded Xichen's chest.
"I apologize for being so callous, but I'm not sure that you are." Even the Lan's sect leader was surprised at his own boldness, but he supposed there was no taking it back. It was high time they stopped skirting around each other and addressed the issue at hand.
Jiang Wanyin looked furious, his response an intimate hiss. "That's not for you to decide. Thank you for caring, but I think you should leave."
Lan Xichen sighed, his head dipping dejectedly, and agreed, "You're right. I'm sincerely sorry for overstepping." And he was. It was not his place to lecture others, especially not those of his own rank, but he had been so intent on comforting that he had lost sight of the important boundaries between the Jiang cultivator and himself.
With a last, brave step forward, he laid a hand on the other sect leader's arm. "If you need someone to talk to, though, I will not share anything you tell me. I only want to ease your pain, if I can."
He had expected his offer to be met with a scathing I don't need your help. He had expected to be pushed aside and left stranded among the peonies, watching the person he wanted to save stalk away in disgust. He had never expected Jiang Wanyin to trust him.
He had never expected to find himself standing starstruck as Jiang Wanyin crashed gracelessly into him, arms tightening around his chest. Hesitant, he pulled the shuddering man into a loose embrace, heart rate climbing at an alarming rate.
Through a fresh flood of tears, Wanyin managed a few broken sentences. "I just---want---my parents! I wasn't---ready for this! I didn't w-want it!"
"I know," Lan Xichen murmured, the cool night breeze carrying his soft words into the sky. "I know." He missed his own parents, too, though they'd been depressingly absent from his childhood. To have a parent, to him, was a constant, reassuring thing; a mindset more than a tangible presence. Once the solid security of both father and mother was gone, what did a person have but themself? He realized with a start that he had begun to run a hand through Jiang Wanyin's fine hair. A habit of his mother's, he recalled, one that he had picked up after seeing her gently petting Lan Wangji's head to calm the boy after fits of nightmares. If only the reason for Jiang Wanyin's pain was a nightmare, and nothing more.
"This… everything that you've seen tonight…" the other man began, and Lan Xichen quickly removed his hand and backed up.
"It never happened," he finished easily.
Jiang Wanyin loosed a breath, deep in thought. "Right. So… if this isn't really happening, I don't see why it would be an issue for you to… hold me again?"
Lan Xichen was suddenly very glad he didn't blush easily. "It doesn't have to mean anything," Jiang Wanyin blurted.
"Of course not. We're just…" Xichen trailed off, realizing that there was no acceptable reason for him to be hiding in a secluded garden with his arms around another man. And yet, somehow, that was where he found himself as soon as the other man leaned toward him.
"Relieving ourselves from the stress of war," Jiang Wanyin covered smoothly. It was a pathetic excuse, but it was all they needed. They were alone except for one another, and the pull between them was too right to resist.
"We should get back to the meeting," Lan Xichen breathed, far too soon, and he felt rather than saw his companion's answering nod against his shoulder.
The flush had dissipated from Jiang Wanyin's face, but his words were still airy and flustered when he pulled away. "Well… that was… well."
Lan Xichen couldn't help but agree. "It was."
"But it never happened," the other sect leader insisted, turning to stride from the gardens.
This sent a small, sad tug to Xichen's heart, but he supposed this agreement, if it could be called that, was for the best. The pair walked a safe, though uncomfortable, distance apart until the lights of the meeting room came into view.
Poised outside the doors, Jiang Wanyin turned to his almost-partner and mouthed, Never happened.
Lan Xichen nodded, basking in the satisfaction of Jiang Wanyin's involuntary smile when his fingers brushed against the back of his hand. They re-entered the war council with lightness in their hearts and barely-concealed love lighting their features.