Work Text:
Nie Mingjue can feel eyes on him as he runs through his sabre forms again, and again, and again, and-
He feels frantic, wild, on the precipice of unhinged. His heart is pounding, he wants to tear the training dummy to pieces, he wants to sink his teeth into it and rip. He wants whoever’s watching him to mind their own business and stop staring. He wants-
“Mingjue!” Lan Xichen’s voice cuts through the noise in his head.
He starles, nearly dropping his practice sabre, “What?”
“Are you alright? I called your name nearly five times before you heard me,” his eyes are full of concern, unbecoming of his beautiful features. He should always be smiling, in Nie Mingjue’s opinion, to see his brow creased with worry feels wrong.
Nie Mingjue’s heart is still roaring in his chest, but it’s quieter as he tries to give Lan Xichen his full attention. He can’t bite down on the anger blazing in his chest at the interruption. He itches to move, aches to resume swinging his sword wildly. He needs to burn off this energy, and Lan Xichen is wasting his time. “I’m fine,” he snaps, then regrets it the moment after the words leave his mouth. He takes a deep breath, centers himself, and tries again, “I’m fine. What do you need?”
Ever patient, always understanding, Lan Xichen doesn’t seem to take offense to his outburst. “It’s meant to rain later,” he explains, “and your father told my uncle that he won’t need the horses today.”
“So you want to go for a ride?”
Lan Xichen shrugs, but Nie Mingjue can see right through him. He tries to be subtle, but Nie Mingjue has not missed how every time he comes to visit he requests to ride the horses. Nie Mingjue always humors him. There’s not much he could deny Lan Xichen.
“I figured we could get out before the rain comes. Who knows,” he suggests, smiling slyly, “maybe you’ll tire me out enough that I’ll sleep through the storm.”
“You couldn’t sleep through a storm if you activated every silencing talisman in the world,” Nie Mingjue scoffs, but this time it’s light and teasing. Lan Xichen’s fear of storms is a well kept secret for the sake of his public image, an idea that Nie Mingjue scoffs at, but he treasures the fact that he gets to know this particular bit of information. It makes him feel special, when Lan Xichen trusts him enough to seek him out for comfort.
Lan Xichen smiles at him, but that’s all he gives by way of response before he’s sprinting off in the direction of the stables. Nie Mingjue follows behind him, hot on his heels, but Lan Xichen’s head start gives him a considerable advantage. He runs directly to his favorite horse, a sturdy dark brown mare named Victory, nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement. Judging by how fast Victory sticks her head out over the gate, she’s excited to see him too. Nie Mingjue takes the horse closest to the stable door. The stable hands get them saddled and ready, and then they’re off.
Lan Xichen’s beauty is otherworldly in the sunlight. He glows brighter than the sun itself. Nie Mingjue firmly believes that the smile Lan Xichen gives as he urges Victory off towards the riding trails could chase away the ominous gray clouds lurking on the horizon.
They spend the better part of the afternoon riding around the trails. Every so often a soft rumble of thunder rolls in from the distance, shattering the peace and making Lan Xichen glance up nervously at the sky. The forest is beautiful this time of year, everything is in full bloom for the summer. Small critters scamper around the trees. They even stumble into a deer, which causes Lan Xichen to light up with awe and excitement. Eventually, the clouds roll in, bringing an end to their pleasant afternoon. They turn their horses and begin to follow the trail back.
Rain begins to fall, although still gently, and thunder rumbles again considerably closer. Lan Xichen looks nervously to the sky and urges Victory to trot a little faster. Nie Mingjue moves to do the same, but another crack of thunder, nearly deafening this time, causes his horse to panic. Were he prepared for it, the rapid jerking as his horse rears up would be easy to resist, but he was so busy staring at Lan Xichen in his discomfort that he finds himself unable to grab onto the saddle in time.
Lan Xichen cries out as Nie Mingjue flies through the air, dismounting his horse in one smooth motion to rush to his side. He slams against a tree trunk and it feels like his shoulder catches fire. The shock jarrs tears from his eyes, his hands tremble as he reaches out to check his range of motion. Lan Xichen is by his side, guiding his arm back to neutral, wiping tears from Nie Mingjue’s face.
“Don’t cry,” he begs, eyes wide with fear. Probably a combination of the impending storm and Nie Mingjue’s distress. “Please don’t cry, you’re going to be okay.”
Nie Mingjue grits his teeth, “ Hurts– Xichen!”
“I know, I know. Here, okay, hold still-”
He scrambles around for a few moments, jostling Nie Mingjue’s injured shoulder and wincing when he hisses. There’s more shuffling, then a soft, cooling sensation passes over the aching area. Lan Xichen must feel something strange, because as soon as his shoulder is healed he yanks his hand away like he’s been burned.
“Do you always feel like that?” he asks.
“Like what?”
Lan Xichen searches for words, water drips off of his brows where they furrow in concern, “Like– angry. Tense. Hungry.”
“I guess,” Nie Mingjue shrugs, trying to avoid the conversation. He doesn’t want to discuss dying right now, not while his father’s decline lingers right in front of his face. “I’m used to it.”
Lan Xichen opens his mouth to say something, but thunder roars again and the color drains from his face.
“Come on. Let’s go home,” Nie Mingjue sighs, mounting his horse and setting off back the way they came.
—
They’re laying together tonight, as they often do when it storms. It started when they were very young and Lan Xichen had crept awkwardly, guiltily, to Nie Mingjue’s room for comfort. From then, once he realized he wouldn’t be turned away, it had become a pattern. A habit. One that Nie Mingjue had no intention of breaking.
“I don’t want you to die,” Lan Xichen confesses, a whisper against the raging storm outside. “I’m going to find something to help you.”
Nie Mingjue sighs, exhausted, drained, tired of this conversation already, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. It’s cruel to me. Besides, we’ve already tried everything. It’s not something that can be helped, it’s imminent. Unavoidable.”
Thunder cracks and lightning splits the sky, sending Lan Xichen into a fit of shivers in his arms. He hopes the fear is a good enough distraction, his embrace enough to clear Lan Xichen’s thoughts. He should know better by now, Lan Xichen is nothing if not committed to finishing the things he starts. “Does it have to be?” he presses, voice thin but determined. “Does it have to be a death sentence? Is there no way to manage it?”
“Don’t you think we would have tried to manage it?” Nie Mingjue snaps. Lan Xichen is trying to help, he knows he shouldn’t be short with him, but simply existing is so tiring. He can’t stop himself. “If it was possible to survive, don’t you think we’d survive?”
Mercifully Lan Xichen doesn’t say anything more, he hides his face in Nie Mingjue’s neck and takes a deep, quivering breath. A dampness gathers at Nie Mingjue’s collar, Lan Xichen’s slender body trembles in his arms.
“Please don’t leave me.” It isn’t quite begging, but it’s as close as Lan Xichen will ever get.
Nie Mingjue doesn’t have the words to respond, so he holds Lan Xichen closer. “We have years.”
They lapse into silence, just on the wrong side of comfortable. Lan Xichen is still crying, if the growing dampness at Nie Mingjue’s collar is any indication, but he’s entirely silent about it. Everything aches. Nie Mingjue feels as if he’s been trampled by a horse. He feels like that often these days.
“When we’re old men-”
“Stop it,” Nie Mingjue snaps before Lan Xichen can continue digging his nails into his bleeding heart.
“No, listen to me,” Lan Xichen snaps back. “When we’re old men and it’s storming, I’m going to say, ‘Remember when I used to sleep in your bed because I was afraid of thunder? Will you let me do that again tonight?’ And you’ll let me in because you can’t deny me anything.”
“You’re right,” he sighs, letting Lan Xichen take this wherever he wants.
“I can’t bear the thought of sleeping without you.”
Then Lan Xichen is sobbing again in earnest. Nie Mingjue begins to fear this night will never end, but when Lan Xichen’s sobs finally die down he doesn’t say anything else. Nie Mingjue cradles him against his chest like he used to cradle his brother when he was very little. Lan Xichen grasps the fabric of Nie Mingue’s clothing tight enough that his knuckles turn white. They stay like that, as close as they can possibly get, until Lan Xichen’s grip goes lax and his breathing slows. It must have been an incredibly long day for him, Nie Mingjue thinks as he runs his fingers through his hair. The storm outside has calmed to nothing more than a gentle drumming of rain. He rearranges Lan Xichen so he’s laying down, head propped up on a pillow so that he can breathe easier after crying so hard, and pulls the blanket up to both their chins as if it could shield them from the world. Tenderly, he takes Lan Xichen back in his arms when he lays down, seeking comfort in the fresh, familiar scent of whatever hair oil he uses. He falls asleep heavy, weighed down by the day, with Lan Xichen safely in his grasp.
When they wake tomorrow, their eyes will be dry. Perhaps swollen from crying, but they will be dry. And Lan Xichen will smile, lit by the golden rays of dawn bleeding through the window, and Nie Mingjue will be warm. They will face the day, and every day after that, with determination and grace until the next time a storm rolls through.