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Lan Xichen knocks twice on the door.
“Wangji, can I come in?” he asks. Silence. He hadn’t expected anything else, but it’s not an outright refusal, so, cautiously, Lan Xichen opens the door. “Wangji,” he says again, stepping inside the room.
Lan Wangji is sitting on one of the beds in the guest quarters of Nightless City. His legs are crossed, his back rigidly straight. To anyone else, he would still appear an impassive Jade of Lan, but Lan Xichen is fluent in small ways his brother physicalizes emotion. He reads tension in the way Lan Wangji has drawn in his shoulders, the tight clasp of his hands in his lap, the way he’s looking at the wall and not at Lan Xichen.
When Lan Wangji quit the archery competition, Lan Xichen didn’t follow. He wanted to. Lan Xichen’s legs itched with an unpleasant crawling sensation as he forced himself to remain still. But he knows his brother, knows that if he presses the issue right away, Lan Wangji will only withdraw further. And ordinarily, he’d wait for Lan Wangji to come to him, but this time, watching his brother walk off alone, Lan Xichen felt… afraid. He can’t remember ever seeing Lan Wangji show such strong emotion in public. It’s alarming, and he’s never felt more ill-equipped to help. But there is no one else who is going to come. Lan Xichen is the only person who can read his brother’s heart, so it’s responsibility to keep it safe.
Even if he’s completely out of his depth.
“Wangji,” he says for the third time, and this time Lan Wangji turns to look at him. Lan Xichen can instantly tell from Lan Wangji’s red-rimmed eyes that he’s been crying. His heart gives a panicky flutter, and he rushes towards the bed. “Didi—” Lan Xichen can hear the ache in his own voice. Lan Wangji hears it too, and looks away again.
“I am fine. You do not have to stay.”
“Do you want me to go?” Lan Wangji doesn’t answer, so Lan Xichen sits down next to him on the bed. “Lying is forbidden,” he says without any reproach. Lan Wangji turns and glares at him.
But it’s more than annoyance. In his eyes, Lan Xichen sees a flash of a much younger Lan Wangji. Six years old, he snuck into Lan Xichen’s bed the night they were told their mother was gone, and stared at him with wide eyes and—oh, Lan Xichen thinks, something in his stomach turning sour, Lan Zhan is scared.
He has to fix this. He has to fix this, and he has no idea how to fix this.
“You did very well today,” he says. “You placed fourth overall.” Lan Wangji gives a tight nod in acknowledgement. They both know he could have placed higher, would have placed higher if he hadn’t walked out of the competition early. And they both know Lan Xichen isn’t here to talk about the outcomes of the archery contest. There’s an ocean of silence stretching out between them. Lan Xichen steels himself, and takes the plunge.
“No one blames you for being upset.” Lan Wangji’s knuckles whiten. Gently, Lan Xichen wraps an arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay.”
“It is not,” Lan Wangji says. “It was—humiliating. He—in front of everyone—he—” Lan Wangji is choking on the words. Lan Xichen rubs his arm softly.
“It was an accident. Everyone could see that it was an accident. No one will think it… means anything.” He pauses. “It means something to you.” Lan Wangji stops breathing. Lan Xichen meant for it to be a question, but it’s a statement.
Lan Xichen already knows. He knew it the moment he saw Lan Wangji interact with Wei Wuxian on their way to investigate the Waterborne Abyss. And if he hadn’t known it then, there are the two rabbits that now live in the Cloud Recesses. The rabbits that Lan Wangji, who never asks for anything, begged Lan Xichen to keep. There is the vase of lotus seed pods Lan Wangji left in front of the doors of their mother’s home. Lan Xichen knows how his brother shows love.
“Xiongzhang, please,” Lan Wangji whispers, “I do not want to be teased about this.”
“Didi,” Lan Xichen says as earnestly as he can, “I’m not making fun of you. Why would you think that?” Lan Wangji won’t meet his eye. He looks utterly miserable. Lan Xichen hums softly, and pulls Lan Wangji’s head down to the crook of his neck. He rests his forehead on the crown of his brother’s head.
“You do not have to speak about it if you do not wish to,” Lan Xichen hesitates, “but you could. To me.” Lan Wangji is silent for so long that Lan Xichen thinks he isn’t going to respond. That’s okay, he tells himself. Lan Wangji doesn’t need to confide in him. He can sit with his brother, and that can be enough.
Lan Wangji surprises him.
His voice is quiet and labored when he says, “I’m— I do not— wish to marry a woman,” but Lan Xichen can feel his heart beating loud and fast.
Relief shoots up Lan Xichen’s spine. Lan Wangji still trusts him; he hasn’t ruined that. But terror comes quickly on the heels of relief. He’s afraid he doesn’t know how to carry the trust his little brother is tentatively holding out to him.
Lan Xichen smoothes down Lan Wangji’s hair, and he picks it up anyways.
“A-Zhan, I love you.” The breath Lan Wangji releases against Lan Xichen’s neck is hot, and Lan Xichen tightens his arm around Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Thank you for telling me.” Lan Wangji’s eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes.
“You knew already,” he says. It’s not a question, so Lan Xichen doesn’t say anything. Lan Wangji opens his eyes. “It is obvious.” That one is a question.
“No,” Lan Xichen says. “It isn’t obvious.”
“Today?” Lan Wangji presses, sitting up straight to look directly at Lan Xichen.
“No one said anything after you left,” Lan Xichen assures. Lan Wangji nods once and a little bit of tension drains from his posture.
“Please do not tell anyone.”
“Wangji, of course.” Lan Xichen picks up one up Lan Wangji’s hands and runs his thumb over his knuckles while he looks for the words. How to say what he wants to say without inadvertently pressuring or presuming too much.
“But you know,” he says after a moment, “that if you wanted to confide in someone else, or if you wanted to announce it to the world, you would have no reason to be ashamed.” Lan Wangji doesn’t say anything. He turns his head away from Lan Xichen again. “There is nothing wrong with being reserved, but I hope you do not feel like you need to hide. Everyone who knows you loves you.”
“No one knows me except for you.” Lan Xichen grimaces slightly and takes a steadying breath. He lets go of Lan Wangji’s hand and touches the side of his face, prompting him to meet his gaze again.
“You could let more people know you.” This is more familiar ground. They’ve had this conversation before. Lan Xichen worries for Lan Wangji in a hundred shades, but above all, he worries about how isolated he is. “I would help you.” Lan Wangji shakes his head.
“No. I am not good company.”
“Did someone tell you that?” Lan Wangji shakes his head. He’s staring off into the middle distance like he’s looking at something Lan Xichen can’t see.
“They do not have to. I know it.” Lan Xichen frowns. He clambers inelegantly across the bed to sit in front of Lan Wangji, their knees touching, blocking whatever specter his brother is seeing.
“How can that be true when you’re my favorite person to be around?” Lan Wangji does not roll his eyes, but it’s a near thing. “I mean it,” Lan Xichen insists. “And there are plenty of your peers who would befriend you.” He hesitates. “I believe that may have been Wei-gongzi’s intention today. Before, ah—” he breaks off at the look on his brother’s face.
“Wei Ying acts without intention,” Lan Wangji says bitterly. Lan Xichen sighs. He knows it’s unlikely that Wei Wuxian knows the meaning of the Lan Sect’s forehead ribbon, and it’s almost certain he doesn’t know the hold he has over Lan Wangji’s heart. It would be unjust to blame him for actions taken in ignorance.
Lan Xichen thinks he must be unjust as he watches Lan Wangji absently brush his fingers across his forehead ribbon with glassy eyes.
“I am sorry,” Lan Xichen says,“that he hurt your feelings.” Lan Wangji’s ears go red and he gives an aborted shake of his head.
“Ridiculous.” It isn’t, but Lan Xichen doesn’t know how to say that in a way Lan Wangji will understand, so he reaches out and places a hand on Lan Wangji’s knee. Maybe touch will communicate what words can’t.
Lan Wangji blinks rapidly, and when he looks at Lan Xichen again, his eyes are free of tears.
“You should go,” he says, and Lan Xichen frowns slightly. “The banquet,” Lan Wangji clarifies, “it will begin soon.” When Lan Xichen still doesn’t move to leave, Lan Wangji says seriously, “Xiongzhang does not need to worry about me.”
“Ridiculous,” Lan Xichen repeats, smiling at his brother. He stands and holds out a hand.
“Come,” Lan Wangji looks ready to refuse. “Not to the banquet, to my room. I am practicing Clarity; will you play with me?” Lan Wangji glances at him searchingly, looking for any sign that Lan Xichen is indulging him. Finally, he takes Lan Xichen’s hand and stands as well.
Lan Xichen lets go of Lan Wangji’s hand, and walks towards the door. When he realizes Lan Wangji isn’t following, he turns back around and finds Lan Wangji staring at him with a strange expression. Lan Xichen raises his eyebrows.
“Xiongzhang,” Lan Wangji says.
“Yes?” Lan Wangji hesitates, and Lan Xichen doesn’t rush him to speak. He never does.
“This does not change anything between us?”
Lan Xichen takes two steps and closes the distance between them, throwing his arms around his brother’s shoulders. “Wangji, there’s nothing that could.” He steps back and smiles brightly. “Now, come.” The corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth twitches, and he follows.