Chapter Text
Lan Xichen doesn’t think Wangji took even a second to think his decision over.
It was as if it were the most obvious choice. An answer to a simple question that would have no impact on his life and the people around him.
He wasn’t as close to him as Wangji had been to Wei Wuxian. He was making his way over to his brother as he watched Jiang Wanyin walk away from the ledge, the horror on his usually passive brother’s face was the tell tale sign of what just happened.
He didn’t walk slowly, yet he didn’t run.
He should have run.
He didn’t know he needed to.
He knew that Wangji had feelings for the demonic cultivator. He’d know his brother all his life and could easily read him. He could read Wangji as if he were a favored book; pages aged from love and use, the words rushing through his head, not even needing to really look at the book as its been read over and over again that they were pure memory at that point.
But as he made his way over to his dear brother, the horror molded to a blank, empty gaze and without even blinking, he was gone.
Gone over the ledge, into the fiery pit that would be his grave.
He didn’t even have a chance to call his name.
He collapsed. Onto the blood soaked battlefield, the rush of yells as people rejoiced the death of the Yilling Patriarch. The thuds from the remaining corpses crashing to the ground.
The ringing in his ear as his head pulsed and his vision threatened to go black.
“-chen! Xichen!” He distantly heard the cries of Nie Mingjue. He ignored his dear friend and sworn brother shaking him, trying to get to look away from the ledge. Away from where Wangji was just standing at grieving, in pain.
He understands how Wangji had felt at that second. He understood, but maybe not as clearly as Wangji, because even at that moment when he felt like the earth was swallowing him whole, the ledge didn’t feel tempting.
Nie Mingjue’s face appeared in front of his own, blocking the view of the ledge. He looks terrified. Blood and sweat and tears gather together on his face and his being so gentle, caressing Xinchen’s face in his grime coked hands. His mouth is moving but Xichen can’t make out the words. He can barely hear his voice.
“Wangji,” Is all he can manage before he collapses fully this time. Slumping into his sworn brother’s eyes. Falling into a deep unconscious state. Hoping that once he wakes, this will have been all a dream.