Chapter Text
Xichen tries to get better.
He goes into seclusion, he meditates, he waits, and he tries to get better.
He tries and he tries and he really gives his best, so he doesn’t understand why, despite all of his trying, this aching, consuming sadness doesn’t seem to leave him.
Despite all his trying, this… this horrible monster of emptiness and regret and anger seems to burrow itself deeper inside his bones, making it painful to move, to sleep – painful to do anything other than just lay in his room and stare at the ceiling and…
His uncle visits at least once a week – more if there is news – and Xichen tries to move normally when he visits. Tries to smile, tries to listen, tries to assure his uncle that he will be out of seclusion soon. He tries his best, but he’s not sure how convincing he is. His uncle never says anything, but the worried turn of his lips and the careful kindness in his gaze makes Xichen feel as if, despite his efforts, it must be obvious that he’s made out glass. That it’s apparent that he’s in danger of shattering at any moment.
And he knows his uncle means well – knows that his gaze and his worry is because he loves Xichen… but… but it makes Xichen feel…
Less.
Weak.
Stupid.
And maybe, he considers, he deserves to feel like that, because… isn’t he? Isn’t he weak and stupid and blind and the reason why both his sworn brothers are dead?
Isn’t he?
And maybe it’s why Wangji doesn’t visit him anymore.
He did at first, and then… maybe once it became apparent that Xichen wasn’t getting better… maybe… maybe Xichen’s incompetence disappointed him? Maybe he found Xichen as disgusting as Xichen found himself. After all, Wangji came out of seclusion only a year after his wounds healed… Xichen hadn’t even been punished for his stupidity and here he was… wasting away… leaving his responsibilities to his uncle and his younger brother.
Pathetic.
Disgusting.
“Xichen-ge!”
A loud voice interrupts him from his thoughts, a quick, loud rapping at his door.
Wangji doesn’t visit anymore, but…
But his husband…
Wangji’s husband, for whatever reason, has suddenly decided to visit Xichen every day – sometimes multiple times a day.
Xichen doesn’t want to be rude, but he does want to remind Wei Wuxian that he is in seclusion… meaning he’d like to be left alone…
“Xichen-ge, Xichen-xiong, oh great Zewu-jun, please let me in! I’m going to freeze to death out here!”
It’s early Spring. A little chilly maybe, but no danger of freezing.
Xichen holds back a sigh and leans forward to open the door slowly, too tired to even stand.
Wei Wuxian beams down at him. “You saved me from certain death, Xichen-ge,” he says, walking into Xichen’s room as if he has no doubt of his welcome. It’s an easy confidence Xichen once found endearing. Now he finds it… aggravating… or as much aggravation as he can muster to feel anyway.
Wei Wuxian sits down in the middle of Xichen’s room, leaning back on his arms and splaying out comfortably.
It’s almost infuriating, watching him be so easily comfortable in a room Xichen has not been able to find any comfort in.
Only almost infuriating, because Xichen doesn’t have the energy to feel any anger.
Anger lives inside his bones – it doesn’t go anywhere near his heart.
Nothing goes near his heart now-a-days.
Xichen closes the door slowly and slowly moves back to lay on his cot on the floor. He knows it’s rude to lay down when he has a guest, but Wei Wuxian has visited him every day for the past two months and Xichen no longer has the energy to be a polite host for him.
Xichen lays down on his cot and he can hear Wei Wuxian sigh as he follows suit and splays out on the floor.
Xichen would offer him a pillow or something but…
“I brought you mangosteens,” Wei Wuxian says, and Xichen can hear something roll towards him. “First batch on the market. I fought three housewives to get these!”
Xichen closes his eyes. He takes a breath. “Thank you,” he says.
“No need to thank me,” Wei Wuxian says, and he rolls another mangosteen towards Xichen. “I actually bought these for Lan Zhan. I’m just giving you the ugly ones.”
Delightful, Xichen thinks tiredly.
“I mean no offense, Xichen-ge,” Wei Wuxian continues, “I mean you’re great and all, but I wouldn’t fight three housewives for you. Maybe two, but three? Only Lan Zhan is worth fighting three housewives.”
Xichen takes another breath. “Thank you,” he repeats, “I understand.”
He doesn’t understand – not really – but he doesn’t care. Wei Wuxian doesn’t have to fight anything for him. Doesn’t have to bring him mangosteens. Doesn’t have to bring him anything at all actually.
“Do you?” Wei Wuxian asks, and his tone is light and easy but Xichen can feel a strange weight in his question.
Xichen opens his eyes and turns his head slightly to look at Wei Wuxian.
Wei Wuxian is staring back at him, his face betraying no emotion.
Somehow… it makes Xichen feel uneasy.
“Sorry,” he says, “Do I?”
“Do you understand?” Wei Wuxian asks, and there’s no smile on his lips or teasing in his voice.
Xichen suddenly, desperately wants Wei Wuxian to leave. He doesn’t want Wei Wuxian to stare at him with those eyes and ask strange questions.
He wants to be left alone.
Alone.
He needs to be alone.
“Sorry,” he repeats, and he wants to look away from Wei Wuxian or tell him to leave or… “Sorry. I don’t understand.”
Wei Wuxian smiles then and turns away from Xichen to stare at the ceiling.
“Yeah,” he sighs, “I didn’t think you did.”
And Xichen doesn’t know what Wei Wuxian means by that but what does it matter? It’s just one more person disappointed in Xichen. What’s one more? Xichen has already disappointed so many…
“Sorry.”
Pathetic.
It’s all Xichen can do lately. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Maybe if Xichen feels sorry enough, it’ll bring da-ge back. Maybe it’ll bring…
Nonsense. Xichen can’t do anything. Xichen can feel as sorry as he wants and it won’t change a thing. Nothing Xichen does will change anything….
Wei Wuxian stretches loudly from his spot on the floor. Xichen can hear the popping of his joints. He sighs contentedly as he brings his limbs back into himself.
It’s almost as if he’s taunting Xichen.
“I’m sure you must know this, but I’m not that good of a person, Xichen-ge,” Wei Wuxian says, “I’m not a good person, but I really do try my best for the people I love.”
Xichen doesn’t know where Wei Wuxian is going with this conversation, but something – maybe something about his tone? – makes him listen intently.
“You do too, don’t you?” Wei Wuxian asks, and his eyes are big and kind and Xichen wants to look away but he can’t.
“I used to think I did,” Xichen answers, his voice coming out barely louder than a whisper. “Lately, I’m not so sure.”
Wei Wuxian huffs a small laugh, and Xichen doesn’t know what to feel. He feels stuck in his body somehow. Stuck in this too small room with a man who asks too knowing questions and who looks at Xichen with no pity in his eyes.
“My sister, Jiang Cheng, Uncle Jiang, Wen Ning, Wen Qing, granny, uncle four – I loved them,” Wei Wuxian says, turning his head back to look up at the ceiling. There’s a small, wistful smile on his lips and Xichen can’t seem to tear his eyes away. “I loved them more than my own life. More than anything in this world, I really loved them.” He turns to look at Xichen again. “You understand, right?”
Xichen nods, but he’s not sure what he’s even nodding for. “I understand,” he answers, and it doesn’t feel like a lie.
Wei Wuxian nods back at him and turns again to stare up at the ceiling.
“My sister is dead. My uncle is dead. Wen Qing, granny, uncle four are all dead. Jiang Cheng can’t decide whether to hate me or love me and Wen Ning was kept alive and used as a slave for sixteen years because of my wicked inventions.”
Wei Wuxian sits up then and turns to face Xichen. He begins peeling the mangosteen in his hands. Xichen can’t do anything but stare.
It feels strange.
Wei Wuxian is the one opening his heart, baring himself in front of Xichen, yet Xichen is the one who feels unbearably vulnerable.
“I loved them and I gave them my best and it wasn’t enough,” Wei Wuxian says, his eyes on his fingers as he peels the mangosteen. “I wonder if it was arrogance or just plain hoping to think it might be enough.” He pulls a white pod from the purple fruit and pops it into his mouth and shrugs. “After all, I’m just one person. But still… All my love and my best and I couldn’t protect anyone. None of it was enough. Doesn’t that suck?”
He looks so childish shrugging at Xichen like that, his cheeks full of mangosteen, his face totally guileless.
He looks so childish and it’s such a stark contrast from the heaviness of his questions that it surprises a laugh out of Xichen.
Xichen slaps his hand over his eyes and he feels crazy and stupid but he can’t stop laughing.
“Yes,” he chortles, “It does… suck!”
It sucks! It really sucks! And it shouldn’t be so funny but it is.
It sucks.
It sucks.
Xichen gave his best didn’t he? He did, didn’t he? He tried and he tried and he’s even trying now but…
“It sucks,” he laughs, taking wheezing breaths. He breaths and laughs and breaths and laughs and between one breath and the next suddenly his laughs turn into sobs. “Why can’t it be enough?” And this is so mortifying and childish and he hasn’t cried in thirty years and…
“I wish it was enough too,” Wei Wuxian says, his voice light, as if Xichen isn’t sobbing in front of him. “I’ve visited my husband’s brother in seclusion for two months now, hoping that maybe I could find the right words to say or something, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t fix anything – no matter how much I love my husband.”
Xichen bites his lip and tries to stifle his sobs. “Is Wangji disappointed in me?” he asks.
Wei Wuxian hums. “Disappointed?” he asks, “No. He just misses you. He’s just worried.”
Xichen tries to pull himself together, but it’s all he can do to stifle his sobs into his fist. He’s so pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.
“He comes by here every day, you know,” Wei Wuxian says, “He just stands right outside like a fucking weirdo and stares.”
Xichen didn’t know that.
“I think he’s been trying to think of what to say. You know how he is better than anybody. He won’t say anything until he thinks about it like a million times.”
Xichen does know that.
Wei Wuxian sighs and Xichen can hear him stand. “I’ve tried my best, Xichen-ge,” he says, “But I don’t have the right words for you either. I don’t understand, can’t understand the pain you’re going through.”
Xichen hears the door of his room open.
For the first time, he can actually feel the sunlight on his skin.
He drops his hand from his eyes and sits up. Tears won’t stop falling but he can’t find it in himself to care. He looks outside at the sun and it seems brighter than he can remember seeing it in recent memory.
Wei Wuxian grins down at him from where he’s standing in the doorway. “He’s worth fighting three housewives, Xichen-ge. Maybe my best is not enough but I still have to try. You understand, right?”
Xichen nods, chuckling a little bit as he wipes his face with his sleeves. He feels crazy. But it’s nice to feel something different after all these years.
“I understand,” he answers. And he does.
He does understand.
“Lan Zhan isn’t disappointed in you, Xichen-ge. He knows you’re trying your best. He’s trying his best for you too, okay?”
“I understand,” Xichen answers, fresh tears spilling from his eyes. Strange laughter spilling from his lips.
“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Xichen nods.
Tomorrow.
It might not make a difference and maybe it won’t ever be enough but… Tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
Xichen will try to get better.