Archive of Our Own

I.

Lan Wangji was a lonely child raised in a lonely home. The only physical affection he’d get was from his mother or, very rarely, his brother, so he’d never really been touched. After his mother’s death, all he began to know was the cold embrace of his own austere pale blue robes.

He was emotional when he was young, but with his mother gone, he retreated into himself. Hidden behind a wall of stoicism and strict rule-enforcing. A good Lan, the opposite of how he was before, soft edges turned ridged. His uncle seemed unsure of how to feel- Wangji behaved much better than he used to, but he now seemed like a whole new person.

Pats on the arm and faint brushes of hands from Lan Xichen became Lan Wangji’s only exposure to affection. He was cold and impenetrable, so no one else dared to touch him. Whereas his brother was made of warm jade, Lan Wangji was made of ice, with a stern exterior and steely eyes.

He told himself that he didn’t need such things, anyway. They would only distract him from his studies. The only longing he (rarely) allowed himself was missing his mother, her teasing touches and safe embrace. 

Enter Wei Wuxian.

A nuisance. Someone unafraid of annoying and poking at him, who had almost no boundaries and found ways to get under Lan Wangji’s skin that no one else was capable of. He was infuriating. Every day Wei Wuxian remained in the Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji was kept on his toes, irritated and overwhelmed.

It was new. He was scared, confused, and more exposed than ever, all because of one boy who tossed him alcohol and smiled brighter than the moon. Even the white robes of the Gusu Lan Clan couldn’t stifle just how lively Wei Wuxian was. He was uprooting every part of Lan Wangji and tearing apart the solemn, unfeeling air that permeated the Cloud Recesses.

Wei Wuxian was kept at arm’s reach, never able to touch him, but Lan Wangji felt tempted to let him in closer. That was why he couldn’t stand him. Lan Wangji was infatuated, and it was completely new and annoying.

Lan Wangji couldn’t get Wei Wuxian off his mind, and it only got worse every time they met. The first time Lan Wangji saw him out of the white robes and in his newfound red and black ones, he felt his stomach swoop. 

Wei Wuxian was something new and different, and Lan Wangji had practically been living the same day over and over for years. He was fascinated. Someone so unlike him, so lively and open, was completely captivating to see. All those feelings built up over the years and started making Lan Wangji act irrationally.

They were probably what got him into this situation.

Seeing the boy he can never seem to stop thinking about blindfolded and draped over the branch of a tree, Lan Wangji can’t stop himself from wanting. For once in his life, he feels selfish and impulsive.

Wei Wuxian has one leg dangling over the edge of his branch, the other tucked to his chest. When he hears Lan Wangji’s approach, he smiles lazily and turns his head, eyebrows lifting above the blindfold. “Here for the hunt?” He stretches his arms over his head and arches his back, and Lan Wangji mentally recites all the rules of self-control. “Ah, I’m afraid you won’t find any targets around me.”

A flute dangles from his hand as Wei Wuxian wiggles his foot back and forth, ever-unable to sit still. Lan Wangji takes a deep breath and makes his way to the base of the tree. Don’t do this, he warns himself, even as he reaches his hand out. Wei Wuxian drops his lazy smirk when his wrists are grabbed in one strong hand. He inhales sharply, the flute slipping from his grasp.

Something in Lan Wangji’s stomach ignites at the sound. He tugs Wei Wuxian down from the branch and presses his arms above his head into the bark of the tree. His mouth opens like he’s about to tease more, but Lan Wangji surges forward. Their lips slam together.

Lan Wangji could list off the tons of sect rules he’s currently breaking, but he’s struggling to think of anything past the feeling of Wei Wuxian’s mouth against his own. Lan Wangji pulls back for a moment when he starts kicking and writhing, but when he moves in again, the struggle stops. 

As their heads tilt to a better angle, Wei Wuxian relaxes just slightly. He moves his lips a little, and Lan Wangji has to hold back a small noise. Wei Wuxian doesn’t have the same reservations- he makes little mmm and ah sounds into their kiss, whining in the back of his throat when Lan Wangji sucks his lower lip between his teeth. 

He’s loud as ever, and Lan Wangji feels his self-restraint thinning. He bites at Wei Wuxian’s mouth, making it fall open. He gets more aggressive, moving his tongue forward and trying to make it feel good. Their lips are still moving and sucking while their tongues slide together clumsily, wet and inexperienced. 

Wei Wuxian turns his head away (probably to breathe, they aren’t doing much of that), but Lan Wangji pulls it right back, gripping the sides of his face tightly.

It’s good, but he’s not sure if that’s because the kiss is pleasant or purely because of who he’s kissing. The warmth makes Lan Wangji’s skin itch a little. He’s enjoying it, but being so close and touching someone so intimately is…

Abruptly, he realizes what he’s doing. Lan Wangji gives a panicked nibble to the other boy’s bottom lip and lets go, watching Wei Wuxian sink to the ground on shaky legs and take deep, heaving breaths.

It’s Lan Wangji’s first kiss, unfairly taken from someone who doesn’t return his feelings. He turns and flees, ears flaming red. Shameful. 

II.

Wei Wuxian is the first person Lan Wangji finds himself wanting to touch. Not forced contact, not accidental- he, for once, feels the urge to hold someone close. To smile for them, to lace his fingers with theirs, to cultivate with. He doesn’t dare admit this to Wei Wuxian. 

I’ll wait for the right time, Lan Wangji tells himself for years. One of the rules on the Wall of Disciplines is “do not be of two minds,” but he finds himself violating it daily. He is constantly unsure. He isn’t usually a rule-breaker (he’s well-known for his obedience), but he couldn’t stand it if he drove away the one person he cared to let into his space.

As he watches Wei Wuxian turn into a stranger and close off from the rest of the world, he is sure that it still isn’t the right time, and it allows him to keep avoiding the confession. Instead, he tries to support Wei Ying, and defend him from the ruthless lies of the other sects. Keeping Wei Wuxian alive is much more important than Lan Wangji’s feelings.

I’ll tell him when things get better, he thinks.

Things do not get better. They get worse.

Lan Wangji is forced to watch his soulmate fall apart at the seams, torn to shreds by people he used to call his friends. At Nightless City, he tries to rush through the crowd and get to Wei Wuxian, but there are too many vulnerable people and too many fierce corpses. He unsheathes Bichen and manages to fight many of them off, but for every corpse he cuts down, dozens more come, and he feels exhaustion sink its claws into him.

Wei Wuxian is screaming. It’s a horrible grating cry, and it drowns out the sounds of the battle. He is in pain, he is causing pain, and Lan Wangji is terrified. Not of Wei Ying- never of Wei Ying- but of what will happen next. With all the deaths and the Stygian Tiger Seal being used, the world’s hatred of Wei Wuxian will be worse than ever. He doesn’t deserve it. Wei Wuxian never deserved any of this, not when all he tried to do was protect the innocent.

The frantic thoughts are pushed forcefully to the back of Lan Wangji’s mind, buried under those cold layers of ice and jade. His priority is to get through this, then find Wei Wuxian. He’ll figure it out from there. Somehow. 

Many people die. Lan Wangji can’t stop it, and Wei Wuxian can’t seem to, either. After the death of his shijie, the fierce corpses grow even more aggrieved, growling and clawing at anybody they can grab hold of. As hours go by, Lan Wangji is struggling to stay standing. He’s barely injured, but the blow to his spiritual energy is immense.

He can feel when Wei Wuxian becomes exhausted, as well. The fierce corpses dwindle until they’ve stopped appearing at all, and the stifling resentful energy in the air has almost entirely dissipated. Lan Wangji immediately scans the area and finds Wei Wuxian kneeling on the ground, gazing emptily at his own blood-soaked hands. His eyes are dull, gleaming silver coated in a dark fog.

Lan Wangji rushes over as fast as he can manage, pulling Wei Wuxian to his feet. He holds his face in his hands, mourning at the sight of pallid skin and a mouth devoid of its usual grin. Lan Wangji unsheathes Bichen again, and with the last remnants of spiritual energy, brings both of them on top of it and off of the ground. Lan Wangji’s brother shouts something, but he can’t bring himself to acknowledge it. Wei Wuxian is in his grasp, pale, shaking, and unbearably fragile. 

That is more important. There has been so much bloodshed and pain tonight, but if Lan Wangji can save Wei Wuxian, he’ll feel infinitely better. He refuses to think that he might not be able to- that this is a lost cause, ending only in pain. Wei Wuxian will be fine. Both of them will be fine. 

They’re bound to be discovered no matter what, but Lan Wangji finds a secluded cave and ushers them both inside. He seats Wei Wuxian on a rock and kneels before him, grasping one of his hands between his own.

“Wei Ying,” he whispers, voice shaking. “Wei Ying, please.” He channels his energy into Wei Wuxian’s body, desperate to bring some life back to that dull gaze. 

Wei Wuxian stares into the distance. “Get lost.” He says, eyebrows knitting together. 

Lan Wangji’s heart is aching. His hand squeezes Wei Wuxian’s, feeling nauseated (half from exhaustion, half from heartbreak). “Wei Ying,” he pleads again, “I love you. Please, come back.” He speaks quietly, afraid to hear his words echo off of the walls of the cave. He barely even registers the confession that sneaks its way out of his lips, entirely focused on Wei Wuxian’s pain. 

“Get lost.” Wei Wuxian grits out again, scowling weakly. Every word seems to take immense effort. His voice is weak and wretched. Tears begin to seep from the corners of his eyes, rolling slowly down his face and collecting at his chin.

It hurts. Lan Wangji holds Wei Wuxian’s hand to his cheek, feeling his stuttering pulse and giving him even more spiritual energy. His own eyes are watering just slightly as his emotions overwhelm him. He softly hums the song he wrote for Wei Wuxian, even through the fervent repetition of “get lost, get lost, get lost.” 

Lan Wangji pulls Wei Wuxian’s head to his chest, breathing deeply. He doesn’t want to let go. The touch is unfamiliar, but it feels right. It’s the only thing that’s comforting about any of this. His wavering hand comes up to stroke Wei Wuxian’s hair. He hums, because if he stops, it’ll be silent, and for once, Lan Wangji won’t be able to stand the quiet.

He wants Wei Wuxian to be loud again. To hear his cackling laughter, his teasing cries of, “Lan Zhan!” Lan Wangji wants to see Wei Wuxian’s skin regain its healthy color, for his old beaming smile to find its way back onto his face. Lan Wangji’s fingers keep combing through knotted black hair, even as he begins to sob.

He might be being selfish- Wei Wuxian might not like any of this affection. He’s barely lucid, so there’s no way of knowing what he wants. The only thing he seems to be able to do is repeat those same two acidic words, but even they sound weak and hollow. So, once again, Lan Wangji takes the loving touches he doesn’t deserve.

He feels useless. He should’ve tried harder. 

Maybe at those meetings, he could have spoken up more. He could’ve followed Wei Wuxian to the Burial Mounds and farmed with him and A-Yuan. They could’ve been together, standing against everyone who wanted to hurt them. Lan Wangji pushes all of his spiritual energy into Wei Wuxian, and he regrets. He should’ve joined Wei Wuxian on his single-plank bridge.

Later, taking the thirty-three blows of a harsh discipline whip, Lan Wangji lets himself mourn and accept the searing pain as his punishment for failing the man he loves. With a touch of resentment, since the punishment comes from those who would never understand the Yiling Patriarch’s kindness.

III.

Wei Wuxian remains dead for thirteen years, and when he comes back, he’s on a donkey and shouting nonsense. Classic Wei Ying.

In all of Lan Wangji’s daydreams, he’d imagined Wei Wuxian opening the door of the Jingshi and smiling at him, sliding back into his life like it’s nothing. Seeking Lan Wangji out first, knowing he’ll be safe with him. Torturing his uncle, disrupting the quiet of the Cloud Recesses, and making it feel like home again.

That’s not how things turn out. Wei Wuxian seems scared of him, or at least hesitant. Lan Wangji wonders if he remembers the things he told him before he died. If the love confession was too much, and his mutters of “get out” were real protests. When he’d nodded to him earlier in the forest, Wei Ying didn’t say anything; he never tried to explain or get Lan Wangji’s attention.

It’s like he doesn’t believe Lan Wangji would stay by his side forever, or that he would burn the world away for him.

He grabs Wei Wuxian’s wrist in one hand, staring down at him. The notes of a flute echo and fade as the owner lowers it from his mouth in surprise. He gapes at Lan Wangji, stumbling and nearly bumping into his chest. He has a different face now: slimmer, on the edge of malnutrition, with faint bruises lining his cheekbones. He’s also quite a bit shorter than he used to be- the top of his head barely reaches Lan Wangji’s ears.

He’s definitely still handsome, and even though the face is different, it’s undoubtedly Wei Wuxian. His eyes are that same shade of silver, and the way he moves across the grass has that same powerful grace. Not to mention the song. The song Lan Wangji wrote for him, the one he’s performed for no one else. Even though the air is quiet now, the notes of it are still resounding in Lan Wangji’s head, sending an electric thrill down his spine.

They’re both frozen in place, but when Wen Ning stirs again, Wei Wuxian goes back to playing.

He drives the Ghost General away from the juniors, and Lan Wangji can only stare at him. Wei Ying is back. The scars marring his back sting at the memories, but his heart is racing pleasantly. Wei Ying is finally back. 

He subconsciously grips the wrist in his hand tighter, making Wei Wuxian gasp in pain and drop the flute. Lan Wangji can feel the pulse beneath the skin, the warmth of a Golden Core (albeit small) flowing steadily. Entirely alive. Not cold or drained like he was before.

Lan Wangji realizes that Wen Ning has left, and the juniors are approaching. He blinks a few times, trying to steady his emotions and bury them once again. Lan Sizhui gives him an unsure look. 

One of the Jiang disciples shouts, “It’s him! That’s the guy who summoned the Ghost General!”

Wei Wuxian is still staring in the direction Wen Ning had disappeared, and he jumps when another voice joins them. 

Jiang Wanyin steps from the trees and fiddles with the ring Zidian hides in, spinning it back and forth. “Well, well,” he hisses, “you’re back?” There’s a variety of expressions on his face, very few that Lan Wangji knows how to read.

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Wanyin shouts. He flicks his wrist and summons his spiritual weapon, stepping forward and preparing to strike. He has one fist clenched at his side, lips taut with frustration.

Before he can even begin to lift his arm, Lan Wangji pulls his guqin from its pouch and sets it in front of him, fingers settled on the strings. He doesn’t like Jiang Wanyin- he never has, and it got worse after he disowned Wei Wuxian. For a Sect Leader, he’s too rash and immature, and as a person, he’s intolerable. He didn’t try to save Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji makes sure he’s situated in front of Wei Wuxian as he begins to strum and send out powerful bouts of spiritual energy, blue crashing against indigo and shaking leaves off of trees. They exchange a few blows, but he doesn’t realize until it’s too late that Wei Wuxian ran away, toward the juniors. Jiang Wanyin notices faster, glaring and slashing Zidian in the same direction. 

The whip makes contact, but before Lan Wangji can begin to murder Jiang Wanyin, Wei Wuxian props himself up against his donkey. “Oh, ow. ” He rubs his back, where his robes have burnt away slightly. “You cultivators really think you can do anything, huh?”

Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin stare, shocked and unsure. Lan Wangji is certain that this is Wei Wuxian, but if Zidian can’t expel his soul…

“You can even beat up anyone you want to! For shame! ” He points an accusing finger at Jiang Wanyin, moving behind the donkey and peeking his head up. 

A body sacrifice? Lan Wangji keeps his fingers on the guqin, holding back his attacks for now. Back when they attended classes together, Wei Wuxian may have joked a few times about attractive female cultivators letting him possess their bodies… it does sound like something he’d find a way to make possible.

“Just who are you?” Jiang Wanyin squints, letting go of Zidian. It retreats into the ring that contains it.

A young cultivator from the crowd steps forward. “Ah, Sect Leader Jiang, you might not have heard, but that’s Mo Xuanyu, from the Lanling Jin Sect. He was thrown out of the sect for, um… anyway, he probably just ventured onto the wrong path.”

Jiang Wanyin raises an eyebrow. He looks back to Wei Wuxian. 

“His head has some issues,” another cultivator provides. The juniors are watching from a distance with open curiosity, both at the fight between two strong spiritual weapons and the accusations being thrown around. Jin Ling looks decidedly uncomfortable.

There’s a moment of quiet in which Jiang Wanyin stares, assessing, then orders, “Alright. Take him with us.” 

In a flash, Wei Wuxian is behind Lan Wangji again, flailing until his hands are clutching at his shoulders. Lan Wangji stands stiffly in place. 

Lan Sizhui says, with his usual gentility, “Sect Leader Jiang, you hit him with Zidian. Mo Xuanyu hasn’t been possessed, why would you want to bother an innocent person?”

Lan Wangji feels the warmth of Wei Wuxian’s hands shift as he moves his head to look at Jiang Wanyin. “Sect Leader Jiang…” Lan Wangji turns to look at his comically scandalized expression, “if you keep trying so hard to take me back to your home, I might get the wrong idea, you know.”

Jiang Wanyin’s face is beginning to turn a garish shade of red. Wei Wuxian continues, placing a hand over his heart, “I’m sorry to break your heart, but I can’t lead you on. I have no interest in you, you’re not my type.” He bats his eyes sorrowfully.

“Then what is your type?” Jiang Wanyin bites out. He looks like he’s starting to believe that who he’s talking to really is a homosexual lunatic and not the big, scary Yiling Patriarch. That was probably Wei Wuxian’s goal in the first place.

Wei Wuxian smiles widely as he declares, “People like Hanguang-jun, of course!” 

Every person in the crowd gapes at him. Lan Wangji just stares quietly. 

While Jiang Wanyin is stewing in his anger and secondhand embarrassment, Wei Wuxian laughs. It’s only a joke to him, an excuse born of convenience. 

Lan Wangji’s traitorous heart races nonetheless.

IV.

Having Wei Wuxian in the Cloud Recesses again is odd, especially when he’s acting like… this . 

Crying and screaming on his way up the mountain, clinging to his nuisance of a donkey, claiming to lust after the esteemed Hanguang-jun, et cetera. He even spied on Lan Wangji in the cold spring (which is in equal parts thrilling and horrifying). Lan Wangji doesn’t know what to think. Wei Wuxian must not know he’s recognized him, so he thinks he has to keep committing to the homosexual lunatic charade. 

Lan Wangji looks down at his robes where they lay crumpled by the spring, the jade token sticking from their lapels, and realizes: Wei Wuxian still doesn’t want to be here. He never wanted to come back to Gusu, and he doesn’t want to be around Lan Wangji. Even before he died, going back to the Cloud Recesses was the last thing he wanted to do.

That look in his eyes every time Lan Wangji begged him to come back with him still haunts him. He wonders at what point Wei Wuxian began to hate his company, when he stopped teasing and poking at him. Was it the demonic cultivation’s fault? Did he just get tired of Lan Wangji?

He tries not to think about it. Lan Wangji knows he’s not the most interesting person, but he likes to believe he and Wei Wuxian used to get along. They were tentative friends, but friends nonetheless. There was never the chance for anything more, and Lan Wangji’s feelings were unreciprocated, but he would’ve been fine with things staying the way they were.

When did that all change?

He still doesn’t want to let Wei Wuxian go. Lan Wangji is a horrible, selfish person, but the very thought of being alone when he knows Wei Wuxian isn’t dead makes his breaths speed up. He can’t let this slip through his fingers again. If the Sect leaders find out the Yiling Patriarch is still alive, they’ll kill him a second time. He won’t let that happen.

Behind the eupatorium grasses surrounding the cold spring, the juniors catch Wei Wuxian in what they think is a perverse act. “No, no! I definitely didn’t see Hanguang-jun naked!” He cries, high-pitched.

Lan Jingyi shouts, outraged, “That’s way too specific! You obviously did! Do you have no shame, you damn madman?!”

“Hey, hey, making loud noises is prohibited in the Cloud Recesses, you know? Do you want to get punished?” Wei Wuxian sighs in mock disappointment, clicking his tongue.

Lan Wangji closes his eyes for a moment, long-suffering. If he weren’t a Lan, he’d sigh, but since he is one, he just puts his clothes on and walks out. Bichen remains at his side, and he rests his hand on its hilt to reassure himself. Wei Wuxian had seen the scars, but that’s fine. He doesn’t know where they’re from.

The Wen Sect brand is incriminating, especially considering its placement, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t know he’s been recognized. He won’t be able to ask. Lan Wangji expertly pushes down most of his emotions, leaving only chilling rage and humiliation. He doesn’t have time for all of his thoughts to overwhelm him.

When the juniors see him emerge with whatever expression he has on his face, they immediately bow and rush to greet him. Wei Wuxian shifts uncomfortably, eyes flitting to the place where the sear on his collarbone lies under his robes. Lan Sizhui says, hesitantly, “Hanguang-jun, Mo Xuanyu is…”

“A total creep!” Lan Jingyi cries, but immediately quiets down when Lan Wangji gives him a look. “Hanguang-jun, ever since we brought him up here, he’s been like… this .” He waves at Wei Wuxian aggressively, eyebrows twitching.

Lan Wangji allows himself to clench his fists for a split second before he steps forward and grabs Wei Wuxian by the collar. “As you were.” He tells the juniors, then begins the walk back to the Jingshi. He ignores their startled eyes following him.

Wei Wuxian stumbles and yelps as he’s pulled along, but Lan Wangji pays it little mind. His skin is itching, irritation setting fire to his blood. When he throws Wei Wuxian on the daybed and hears his head smack against the mattress, Lan Wangji takes a deep breath before pointing at him. “You will sleep here.” He commands, as the bell outside tolls to remind him that it’s time to rest. 

Then, he turns away and disappears into a separate room of the Jingshi, footsteps loud in the sudden silence. Once the door slides shut behind him, and he’s finally alone, Lan Wangji buries his head in his hands and allows his shoulders to slump slightly. These last two days have been confusing, draining, and overwhelming. He’s ecstatic about having Wei Wuxian back, but with him come the memories of the past, and his erratic moods constantly remind Lan Wangji that his adoration is unwelcome.

He’s being selfish. Every time he expresses his love, he violates nearly as many rules on the Wall of Discipline as he had on the day he fought those thirty-three elders.

Do not be greedy. Do not indulge in debauchery. Do not exult in excess. Make sure to act virtuously. Discipline your own words and behavior. So on and so forth.

It’s not fair to Wei Wuxian. Nonetheless, Lan Wangji will keep protecting him for as long as he lives, because he will always love Wei Wuxian. Even when he’s hated, insulted, and teased, his feelings won’t disappear. 

Go away. Go away, go away, echoing in the quiet of a dark cave, words laced with exhaustion and annoyance. Empty eyes staring straight ahead, no matter how tightly his hands are held.

Eventually, Lan Wangji shakes it off. He squares his shoulders, lifts his head, and walks to his wardrobe. He removes his hair piece and forehead ribbon, folding them and setting them on a low table. He then takes off his outer robes and puts them neatly in the lower compartment, pushing the drawer back into place and dragging his feet over to his bed.

He takes one slow, deep breath, resolutely not thinking about how Wei Wuxian is in the other room. How he could slide open the door and see him lying down, wrapped up in Lan Wangji’s blankets, eyelashes fluttering as he dreams. Shameless, Lan Wangji curses himself. He settles himself comfortably against his pillow, facing the ceiling and closing his eyes.

He manages to enter a state of meditation, half-asleep but not fully. The slow calming of his mind makes him unaware of someone entering his room until they’re already on top of him. Lan Wangji opens his eyes. Wei Wuxian stares down at him for a moment, flustered, before he throws back the sheets and props himself up over Lan Wangji, mere inches separating their faces.

Lan Wangji’s heart skips a beat. The man on top of him looks unfamiliar, but his expression and the way he carries himself show that he’s definitely the man Lan Wangji loves. That’s enough to make desire flare in his stomach. He manages to extinguish the blush that had begun to heat his ears, steadying his trembling hands. 

After a few moments of quiet, Lan Wangji says, “Get out.”

Wei Wuxian pretends to think it over, face pinched in concentration. “No,” he ends up saying, leaning even closer. “Tsk, tsk, Hanguang-jun, this is what happens when you let a cutsleeve into your room! After all, who could resist such a renowned, beautiful cultivator? You should’ve expected this.” 

Lan Wangji blinks slowly, his eyebrows just barely furrowing. He nearly pushes away and puts a silencing spell on Wei Wuxian, but instead, he commands, “Mark your words.”

He watches as Wei Wuxian processes this and opens his mouth to ask what he means (or tease him more), but Lan Wangji’s hand is on his back before he can begin. He presses in-between the shoulder blades and lets the weight of a full-grown man collapse on top of him, unflinching. Wei Wuxian freezes, eyes wide. “What… Hanguang-jun?”

Their chests are pressed together, rising in tandem. Lan Wangji simply commands, “Rest.” He lifts a hand to wave the candles’ flames away, plunging them into darkness. He’s thankful he can’t see Wei Wuxian’s expression, and that Wei Wuxian can’t see his.

Ridiculous, Lan Wangji thinks to himself. I am ridiculous. He closes his eyes, every inch of bare skin thrumming with the quick beating of his heart. 

Lan Wangji calms his breaths and clenches his eyes shut even tighter, colored spots swimming in his vision. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know he recognizes him, so all of his advances are jokes to make him uncomfortable. He just needs to ignore them, and push aside his delusions. 

V.

Things have gotten worse, once again.

Although Wei Wuxian now knows Lan Wangji recognizes him, he still won’t stop touching him, teasing him, and poking fun at him whenever he reacts. Whether or not he remembers Lan Wangji’s confession back at the Bloodbath of Nightless City is impossible to figure out. It doesn’t matter, Lan Wangji tries to convince himself, despite the fluttering of his heart every time Wei Wuxian looks at him and the pain when he remembers none of it could ever be real.

He feels like he’s going insane, being led on like this. The only thing he can do is keep his mouth shut and endure it, conflicting feelings of joy and despair torturing him. 

So, when he snaps out of a drunken stupor to find himself next to a naked Wei Wuxian, the dried remnants of an orgasm sticking to his skin, he’s mortified. Why would Wei Ying do this? To joke? To express frustration, taking out his desire on the nearest person?

He lifts himself from the bed and feels his stomach drop further when he notices his own nudity. The brand carved under his collarbone and deep lacerations of the whip scars are on full display. He feels phantom pains, memories of a whip cutting into his skin again and again. Lan Wangji throws a robe on faster than he’s ever done before, head swimming.

The whole situation is dizzying. Nauseating. While he was drunk, did he pressure Wei Wuxian into this? He feels like he’s about to be sick.

When he turns to face Wei Wuxian, he’s met with shock and confusion. Sweat clings to his skin like dew, and Lan Wangji is disgusted with himself at how it affects him. Even now, he can’t ignore how beautiful Wei Wuxian is. His fists clench.

Wei Wuxian blinks rapidly, mouth falling open and closed repeatedly. “Lan Zhan…?” He eventually croaks, voice grating from whatever they’d been doing. 

This is why Lan Wangji shouldn’t drink. He always ends up making a fool of himself, acting on every lovesick thought that pops into his head. Every time he drank alcohol in front of Wei Wuxian, he was only doing it to show how much he cared, how he’d do anything for him. He didn’t think things would turn out like this.

Perhaps he should’ve. His daydreams have been getting worse ever since Wei Wuxian started touching and teasing him more, an illusion of reciprocated love. He’s made a horrible mistake. 

When met with silence, Wei Wuxian sits up on the mattress, watching Lan Wangji turn away and stare intensely at the wall. “Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, high-pitched and shaky. With fear, regret, or maybe both.

Lan Wangji manages to turn his head back around, and his eyes widen when he sees Wei Wuxian putting his clothes on. His hands are trembling, as is his lower lip. He looks moments away from crying.

Lan Wangji instinctively reaches out to try and comfort him but manages to stop himself. He doesn’t know if the touch will be welcomed. He can only watch as Wei Wuxian manages to dress himself and stand from the bed, legs nearly giving out.

Self-hatred growls in Lan Wangji’s mind, sinking its claws into him. Shameless. Revolting. Disgraceful. 

When he returns to the Cloud Recesses (there’s no way Wei Wuxian will come back now, he won’t be able to protect him), Lan Wangji will reflect. He’ll kneel in front of the Wall of Discipline and rewrite the Sect rules a hundred times over until his hands begin to bleed and his inkwell runs dry.

Wei Wuxian stumbles his way to the door, still shaking. “See you… in the morning, Lan Zhan. Sorry.” His words come out weak.

Lan Wangji can’t seem to stop fucking up. He fails to protect Wei Wuxian at every turn, letting him fall over and over. 

Hanguang-jun isn’t noble. He isn’t virtuous, strong, or all-knowing.

He’s a fool, whose love makes him stupid. He stands stock-still as Wei Wuxian slides the door closed, submerging the room in heavy silence. Lan Wangji can’t breathe. He sinks to the floor, hands gripping his knees painfully hard. Rare tears burn the corners of his eyes as he rocks back and forth.

Hanguang-jun doesn’t cry. Lan Wangji, a disappointment and good-for-nothing, does. He sobs silently, shoulders tensing under the weight of how Wei Wuxian had looked at him. The flickering candle on the nightstand mocks him, stable and bright in the face of his breakdown.

Lan Wangji realizes that aside from his mother’s death, the only person he’s cried for is Wei Wuxian. He nearly laughs hysterically. This is all wrong, he thinks, nails digging into his thighs, it was meant to stay as a joke. I wasn’t supposed to act on it.

He wants to scrub his skin until it’s red, painful, and stinging. He can’t move. He’s rooted to the floor, cold wood pressed to his bare legs. He imagines Wei Wuxian outside, probably asking for another room. Eager to get away from Lan Wangji and the newfound awkwardness between them.

The last time they didn’t share a room was the first time they stayed in the Jingshi together, and even then they ended up in the same bed. They asked for a single room at inns ever since. Lan Wangji is sure that won’t be the case from now on. 

Time passes in a blur. Lan Wangji finally stands, shutting his eyes until the last of his tears dissipate. He dabs at his cheeks, wiping away the trails that had run down. Suddenly, he realizes- it’s nearly midnight. There’s no way the innkeeper will be awake, nor that Wei Wuxian will be able to get a new room.

At the thought of Wei Wuxian sitting by himself in the hallway, Lan Wangji rushes to slide open the door and scan the area.

Wei Wuxian isn’t there.

There are a few places he could have gone. Downstairs is the first place Lan Wangji thinks to look, checking the kitchens and clenching his jaw when he finds them empty. He counts his breaths and tries to think clearly. If I were Wei Ying, where would I be?

It hits him with all the force of a fierce corpse. The Guanyin Temple! Wei Wuxian, distressed and alone, surrounded by people eager to kill him… Lan Wangji jumps onto his sword with no further hesitation.

___

“Lan Zhan! Lan Wangji! Hanguang-jun! Back then, I- I really wanted to sleep with you!” 

What .

+1

The last place Lan Wangji had expected him and Wei Wuxian to confess to each other would be in a courtyard occupied by dozens of cultivators, Jin Guangyao, Lan Xichen, and Jin Ling. To be fair, he’d never expected them to confess to each other at all- maybe Lan Wangji would, but never Wei Wuxian. The fact that they both feel the same is pleasantly dizzying.

In hindsight, all of the teasing and touching makes sense. Lan Wangji ponders this as Wei Wuxian sits pressed tightly against his side, shoveling mouthfuls of painfully spicy food into his own mouth. “Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian groans, “pay attention to your poor husband! After the torture you put this defenseless virgin through, you won’t even listen to his ramblings?”

Husband. Lan Wangji smiles, a pink flush licking at the tips of his ears. Wei Wuxian stares at him, still shocked by the sight. He leans forward to press a kiss on Lan Wangji’s cheek.

“Speech is forbidden while dining,” Lan Wangji scolds, but he pulls Wei Wuxian into his lap and rubs apologetic circles into his hip. Wei Wuxian hums, appeased. He shifts into a more comfortable position and grabs his bowl again, holding his chopsticks up to Lan Wangji’s mouth.

“Hanguang-jun!” He says, sing-song and fond. “Open wide!” Once Lan Wangji obliges, Wei Wuxian puts a bit of red-hot chicken in his mouth. 

It really is pungent. The spice burns Lan Wangji’s tongue, leaving a trail of pain in his throat and stomach. It’s nearly impossible to tell that it’s chicken at this point. It’s more of a pile of chili sauce and pepper. 

He swallows with no visible reaction, if only to see the way Wei Wuxian lights up. “Is it good?” Wei Wuxian asks, leaning back against Lan Wangji’s chest.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji lies, rewarded by a pleased laugh and the tickle of soft hair against his chin as Wei Wuxian’s head bobs eagerly. 

“You’re the only one who can handle my food!” Wei Wuxian happily informs him, going back to his meal. 

No wonder, Lan Wangji thinks, the burning sting still lingering in his mouth. It hurts. He watches Wei Wuxian tap a swinging rhythm on the outside of his bowl, and finds that he doesn’t truly mind. 

Lan Wangji presses his lips to the crown of Wei Wuxian’s head and marvels at the fact that he’s allowed to. His arms wrap tightly around Wei Wuxian’s waist, fingers stroking slowly at his sides.

Wei Wuxian turns to face him, setting his food down and cupping Lan Wangji’s face. “Lan Zhan, I love you,” he says, matter-of-fact. Then, he leans forward, and their mouths slot together, soft and warm as rose petals. Lan Wangji finds himself breathless, and not only from the kiss. 

The spice filling Lan Wangji’s mouth gets even stronger as more passes from Wei Wuxian’s tongue to his. It’s pleasant, even when Lan Wangji’s tastebuds protest. He nips at Wei Wuxian’s lower lip, and delights in the gasp it brings forth. 

As they pull apart and push in again, Lan Wangji finds his lips curving upwards again. It’s a small, barely noticeable smile, but it still makes Wei Wuxian clutch his robes tighter and moan into his mouth. When they finally separate, Wei Wuxian sighs blissfully and nudges his head against Lan Wangji’s throat. 

“I love you, too.” Lan Wangji informs him. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen and he wails softly, head swinging backward and forward again to smack into Lan Wangji’s chest.

“You can’t say things like that!” Wei Wuxian pokes at Lan Wangji’s shoulders accusingly, “it’s not allowed, Lan-er-gege!” 

“Hn,” Lan Wangji says, non-committedly. Wei Wuxian laughs and crosses his legs so they’re wrapped around Lan Wangji’s hips. They sit together like that, content and quiet, the faint chorus of birdsong slipping through the half-open window. 

Time calmly passes for a while. Then Wei Wuxian whispers, “Hey, Lan Zhan.” Lan Wangji taps Wei Wuxian’s ear, showing that he’s listening. “You know, you’ve always been the person I wanted to impress the most.”

Lan Wangji blinks, startled. His heart stutters. “I don’t know if it was love, at first,” Wei Wuxian continues, “but I always wanted you to notice me. That’s why I always pulled your pigtails, I wanted the amazing and mighty Hanguang-jun to watch me.”

Lan Wangji shifts Wei Wuxian in his arms so that his face is buried into his shoulder. “I always noticed Wei Ying,” he admits. “I couldn’t look away. You were bright and beautiful, all the time.”

Wei Wuxian inhales sharply. He hugs Lan Wangji; their breaths sync as their chests are held together. “You’re so good with words, Lan Zhan.”

It should sound teasing and mocking. No one would ever describe Lan Wangji that way, after all. He’s distant and quiet, straining to speak more than six words at once. His voice is a low monotone, giving away none of what he feels. He isn’t silver-tongued or charming like Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji is made of ice, he is not good with words. 

When Wei Wuxian says it, though, Lan Wangji almost believes it. He sounds wholly sincere.

Lan Wangji loves him so much. It fills his chest, swelling and sending warm tingles through every part of him. In lieu of a reply, Lan Wangji kisses him again. It’s sweeter and chaste until it’s not, until Wei Wuxian licks his mouth to force it open and makes needy noises against his lips. 

As the little moans get louder, Lan Wangji moves his hands to knead Wei Wuxian’s lower half. Wei Wuxian jolts and his hips jerk forward, barely stopping himself from getting too intense. 

“Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian pants when their lips pull apart with a pop , “you’re not only good with words, you’re also good with your hands! As expected of the Yiling Patriarch’s husband!”

Nodding, Lan Wangji gives him a peck on the nose. “Wei Ying deserves the best.”

Wei Wuxian’s face goes almost as red as the spice he piles onto his food. “No,” he groans, “not again!” He smacks Lan Wangji’s chest harmlessly, palm lingering over his heart. 

A huff of laughter slips out of Lan Wangji. His eyes catch on the abandoned food in front of them and he reluctantly moves Wei Wuxian off of him, eyes softening at the sound of an annoyed mumble. Endearing. Lan Wangji bends to gather the dishes from the table, careful to not get his fingers messy, and stands straight again. He walks to the door, opens it, and sets the tray outside, where a servant can retrieve it. 

He can feel Wei Wuxian’s eyes trail after him through the whole process, Lan Wangji feels a warmly electric thrill from the intense gaze. He turns back around and nods to Wei Wuxian. “I will draw a bath.” He says, ignoring the whiny protests that follow him as he leaves. 

When he comes back with two large buckets of boiled water, Wei Wuxian has spread out like a squashed bug on the floor, face-up and comically heartbroken. “Hanguang-jun,” he groans, watching Lan Wangji go to fill the tub, “I don’t want to bathe, I’ll be miserable.”

He suddenly gasps, like he’s had an epiphany. “I know!” He lifts his fist and puts it in his hand, eyes bright. “We could get in together!” Wei Wuxian rolls over and gets up, going to sling an arm around Lan Wangji’s shoulders.

Lan Wangji considers. “Don’t break it.” He ends up conceding, sticking his hand in the water and checking the temperature.

Wei Wuxian frowns. “The time it broke wasn’t my fault.” He says. “You’re a beast, Lan Zhan. I’m innocent!” Lan Wangji lifts a dubious eyebrow.

“My fault.” Lan Wangji finally admits, going to untie the sash holding his thin robe shut. Wei Wuxian smiles devilishly and reaches out to help, nimble fingers sliding the knot apart. The white fabric falls to the floor, pooling at Lan Wangji’s feet. He steps out of it. 

“So pretty,” Wei Wuxian sighs wistfully. His hands skim across Lan Wangji’s chest and down his stomach, nails leaving goosebumps in their wake. Lan Wangji stops him before it can progress further, pushing his arms down.

The black underrobe Wei Wuxian is wearing also falls away, and Lan Wangji stubbornly does not stare, even though he wants to. “Bathe.” He insists, lifting a leg and stepping into the water. 

Wei Wuxian immediately follows, moving so his back is to Lan Wangji’s chest. He sways his legs back and forth, rippling waves spreading across the surface of the bath. Lan Wangji reaches to the side and picks up the soap and cloth, beginning to gently rub the dirt away from Wei Wuxian’s skin. 

“Ah, Lan Zhan, you’re so good to me.” Wei Wuxian grins, twisting so he can scratch Lan Wangji’s chin lovingly. “The perfect husband.”

As Lan Wangji looks at him, faintly tanned skin glowing in the early morning sunlight, he sets the cloth down and kisses him again. Yes. Perfect.