Work Text:
Lan Wangji is a complicated man.
Although he looks quiet on the outside - reserved, patient, controlled - it’s a different matter on the inside, at least when Wei Ying is in his thoughts (which, to be frank, is almost always). Words race and chase each other around his mind, poetry flowing with his barest effort, easier than wielding Bichen.
After everything they’ve been through, he enjoys looking back on their time together. In the time before Wei Ying, Lan Wangji’s life had always been shades of white and blue: icy, cold, traits that he had internalised until he was exactly the same. Unshakable. Sturdy. Reliable. Obedient. And then.
And then.
Wei Ying.
Oh Wei Ying. He had never seen anything the colour of the fire in that boy’s eyes, a golden glowing aura that stood him out from everyone else, even when they were all dressed the same.
The heavy weight that had sat on his heart for years eased with each interaction, or maybe it was more the case that Wei Ying just kept chipping away at his defences with every joyful cry of his name, feet hardly touching the ground when he walked.
Each word he spoke came out through a bright smile; Lan Wangji thought they must burn in the most beautiful way. He couldn’t live without knowing, kissed those lips when Wei Ying was blindfolded and burned from it once he knew their taste.
His throat still burns now when he thinks about the events that came next, the years spent on his own as a husk of himself, numb to pain, numb to life. There were no more colours in his world, no more laughter, no more reason to keep living, but he did.
“Aaahh Lan Zhan! What are you thinking about?”
He’s so glad he did.
“Wei Ying,” he says as both an answer and a greeting.
His lips pull into a smile that is more at home on his face than it used to be as Wei Ying’s arms envelop him from behind.
Perhaps he is a complicated man on the surface, but his feelings are simple enough.