Work Text:
Wei Wuxian had better and worse days. This one was definitely one of the worse.
When he was not in the mood he made sure there was no one around. Fortunately, no one dared to enter the cave after he had asked them not to. He felt like it was their way of showing him respect for all he had done. He accepted that; everything worked for him if he could only isolate himself and not be bothered at all.
Not that he did not want any intrusion. He would love to see A-Yuan or Wen Qing from time to time; the problem was...
It was not safe.
Usually, it all started after he had awoken from the particularly nasty nightmare. One of those awful ones, full of misery, self-hatred and darkness. One of those when he was unable to prevent deaths of his friends and family. One of those when he woke up crying, sometimes screaming, murmuring that he was sorry. So much sorry.
Later, he usually tried to stand. It was tough; it felt like he was even more exhausted than before going to sleep, his limbs heavy and the mind groggy. Sometimes he managed to stand and sometimes, well, he did not. If yes, then he tried to spend some time with friends, ground himself in the reality, tried to fight off the growing pain.
But most often, it did not truly work.
They got used to leaving him meals at the entrance to the cave. They knew he would usually not eat them until he got better, but they were still doing it. It was touching, in a way. Even in his state, even while he stood weakly and blankly and looked at the meal with a disgust he thought: they care.
It was his small relief.
Usually first and second days were not the worst ones. He would lay down most of the time, completely exhausted, sometimes wander the cave aimlessly, unable to relax. He was constantly on edge and really easy to provoke, so he did not want to take chances and usually sealed the entrance with a talisman. Sometimes it was all and his life got back to normal.
Sometimes he needed more time. Third day usually meant hallucinations; awful, distorted versions of the reality. That was probably the part he hated the most... And feared the most. Those times he usually spent at some distant corner of the cave, trembling, seeing things that definitely were not there. Even the fourth day, when ghosts tried to take control over him, sensing his weakness, were not this bad. Of course, it was painful and terrifying in its own, unique way, but after realizing his hallucinations were not real he was a bit stronger. He never feared he will die at this stage. He knew he will not back down.
After it he was usually too exhausted to even stand – again- and then his mind sort of woke up. He laid and thought, thought extensively. Sometimes he would collapse from the bed, take scraps of paper and write, write, write. It was tiering, but eventually satisfying and it slowly helped him to settle his grieving, panicked mind. The void was still there, but he was distracting himself and finally relaxing a little. He would take the meal and eat a little part of it – a truly little part – and slowly regain his mental stability.
***
There was always a warm welcome waiting for him when he finally came back to his senses.
He usually felt like it was all just an awful dream at the back of his head; dangerous, but distant. He would sit on the ground then and look around with fresh amazement; Wen Qing would order him to go to the town and stop wasting time. What she meant, though, was for him to see the sun and help him to focus on being back. No one talked about it, but they all knew it helped him. Then he would be back, play with Yuan, spend time with people and admire the fact that they were still there, still very much alive. Then he would craft something, maybe the next toy or a new talisman idea, joke a bit, work, sentimentally return to some old memories again, smile and play, run around like a child, chase off some ghosts.
Was he happy? Was he unhappy?
He didn’t think it was any of those feelings. He didn’t particularly need to label his existence. He chose this life with all that it indicated and he was not about to back down. The point was still the same; just the same as when he ran from the dogs when he was a child, the same as when he firstly landed in agony in terrifying Burial Mounds, the same when he put up the flute and played.
He liked living. He wanted to live.
He knew bad days will be back. Wen Qing would always worry.
‘Aren’t they getting longer?’ would she ask. ‘Are you sure you are copying?’
Wei Wuxian would smile and close his eyes against the sun. The answer, just like usually, did not matter because there was no other way for him. So he would smile again. He wanted to live... And he wanted them to be alive as well.
‘Yes.’ He would answer. ‘As long as you are there, I am.’