Work Text:
There’s a knock on the door, and Nie Huaisang instinctively freezes.
It’s a silly reaction, and he knows it. He’s in the Cloud Recesses, which is the safest place anyone can possibly be during this war. There are miles and miles of allied cultivators between here and the fighting. And if it were a Wen, they wouldn’t bother to knock in the first place—they would probably just kick the door in.
But it’s unusual. No one ever knocks on his door here. No one bothers him at all— they just let him hide away wherever he wants, and let him do whatever he wants as long as he doesn’t get in anyone’s way. That’s fine by him. He doesn’t mind being forgotten.
So he’s apprehensive as he gets up off his bed and creeps over to the door, cracking it open slowly. His apprehension turns out to be unwarranted, though.
“Xichen-ge?”
Nie Huaisang opens the door wider and steps back to let Lan Xichen into his room. This is the closest they’ve been to each other since before the war started, Nie Huaisang thinks. Lan Xichen only just got back to the Cloud Recesses a few days ago, and he’s been busy getting ready for his coronation as sect leader. The ceremony and banquet were today—Nie Huaisang attended both, quietly slipping in alongside the Lan clan members to watch from the back.
Lan Xichen is still wearing the ceremonial outfit from the coronation. He looked grand and official from a distance earlier, but now he just looks small, lost among the heavy ornamentation. His face appears calm at first glance, but it’s rigid and unmoving when Nie Huaisang inspects closer. He doesn’t say anything either, doesn’t explain why he’s here. He just stares around at Nie Huaisang’s things, not seeming to take any of it in.
“Xichen-ge,” Nie Huaisang asks. “Is everything OK?”
Lan Xichen turns his stare onto Nie Huaisang, and Nie Huaisang flinches internally. It was a stupid question, he realizes too late. How can everything be OK? No one is OK these days.
“It’s been a long day,” Lan Xichen finally says. He tries to smile, but that’s even worse than that calm mask.
Nie Huaisang wonders if he should ask why Lan Xichen is here. He can’t imagine why. He’s not sure what to do at all in a situation like this.
“Do you want to come in and sit down?” Nie Huaisang asks. “I don’t have any tea or anything, but…”
Lan Xichen nods, and follows Nie Huaisang. It’s a small room, and the little table next to the bed only has one sitting mat. Nie Huaisang sits on the bed, but before he can gesture for Lan Xichen to take the mat, Lan Xichen is seating himself on the bed next to him. This is unexpected—Lan Xichen’s manners are always impeccable, and he’s always considerate of others. Nie Huaisang doesn’t mind him sitting on his bed—far from it— but it’s a little alarming that Lan Xichen is too out of it to even think of asking.
“Hey, Xichen-ge,” Nie Huaisang says. “Really, are you all right?”
This time Lan Xichen doesn’t say anything. His fists are clenched on his legs and his shoulders are curled up and tense. There are shadows under his eyes, Nie Huaisang can see now, and his cheekbones look sharp. He’s been in hiding all this time, Nie Huaisang remembers hearing.
If this were any of Nie Huaisang’s other friends, he’d know what to do. He’d put an arm around them in comfort, offer a shoulder to cry on, maybe commiserate with them and let them talk out whatever was hurting them. But Lan Xichen… he’s never been like other kids their age. Sure, he’s always been friendly, easy enough to talk to, but there’s always been a sense of distance. He’s a prodigy in their generation, already a perfect gentleman even though he’s not yet of age. Even around Nie Mingjue, his best friend, he’s always been calm and collected— Nie Huaisang has seen it firsthand. He’s always seemed so grown up.
He doesn’t look grown up now. Even wearing those ceremonial robes, even wearing the sect leader’s guan, he looks more like a scared little kid than Nie Huaisang has ever seen.
And Nie Huaisang wonders, maybe, if he doesn’t feel like one.
“Do you… Do you want a hug?” he hears himself ask. When Lan Xichen looks at him, he tries to explain. “You just seem like you could use one. There’s no shame in it, I won’t judge. Promise.”
Lan Xichen doesn’t say yes, but he doesn’t say no, either. He doesn’t say anything. He looks confused, like he’s not sure what he wants to say.
“It’s all right either way, Xichen-ge. I won’t tell anyone.” On a whim, Nie Huaisang holds open his arms. He’ll look stupid if Lan Xichen decides to say no, but he doesn’t care.
But sure enough, slowly, Lan Xichen begins to lean into him. Nie Huaisang shuffles around to make the angle easier, and he draws his arms tight around Lan Xichen, wrapping all the way around him. Lan Xichen breathes out a shaky sigh. Nie Huaisang pretends he doesn’t hear the quiet sniffles when they start, pretends he doesn’t feel the intermittent shudders.
It’s not fair, Nie Huaisang thinks bitterly. He knows his brother had to go through the same thing once—it’s the fate of sect heirs to take up leadership only after losing their closest family, after all. But back then, he was too young to even begin to understand what Nie Mingjue was going through, and too wrapped up in his own grief. Now, with Lan Xichen coming apart in his arms, the unfairness of all of it hits him with full force. Lan Xichen isn’t yet an adult, no matter how grown up he’s always seemed. He shouldn’t have to bear all this. He shouldn’t have to wear his dead father’s clothes and stand up in front of his whole sect with a calm smile. He should know how to ask for something as simple as a hug, if he needs one.
Nie Huaisang tightens his arms fiercely, his fingers digging into the elegantly patterned robes as he tries to absorb Lan Xichen’s quiet sobs into himself. He wants… he wishes he could keep Lan Xichen safe. He wishes he could undo this whole stupid war, and everything bad that’s happened to Lan Xichen. But what can he do? He doesn’t even have a golden core yet, can barely wield a saber. He’s too weak to stay in his own home while the fighting is going on. And even if he were strong—as strong as Nie Mingjue, or somehow even stronger—it wouldn’t matter. There’s nothing one man can do to stop the war today, and there’s never been a man strong enough to change the past.
Eventually Lan Xichen’s shoulders stop shaking, and the quiet sounds of crying fade out. He heaves one deep, final sigh and starts to straighten back up into a more normal seating position. Nie Huaisang lets go without comment, though he’s tempted to tell Lan Xichen that he can take longer if he needs. He politely averts his gaze as Lan Xichen takes out a handkerchief and wipes his face. They sit like that for a moment, silent and looking anywhere but at each other. Nie Huaisang thinks he should probably say something, but he doesn’t know what he could say.
Lan Xichen is the one to break the silence. “Thank you,” he says. Nie Huaisang looks up at him. This time when Lan Xichen smiles, it’s more natural, despite his red-rimmed eyes and blotchy skin. “I needed that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Nie Huaisang says. “It’s the least I can do.”
“It means a lot to me.” Lan Xichen’s voice is quiet. “There isn’t… there aren’t a lot of people in my life who I could ask to do that.” He wipes at his eyes again with one hand.
Nie Huaisang takes the other hand and squeezes it. “Anytime, OK? I’m just happy I can help.”
Lan Xichen nods, and he squeezes Nie Huaisang’s hand back. He looks… he doesn’t look back to normal, not yet. But he looks a little better, a little less lost.
Nie Huaisang might not yet have a golden core, or the strength to wield a saber on the battlefield. But if he can hold Lan Xichen’s hand right now, if he can nurture that fragile, genuine little smile… that’s enough for him.