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He had already emptied about five bottles and would have had one more if the bartender hadn't asked him to leave so the bar could close. Reeling through the streets, the angel vaguely remembered that he should have returned home a few hours ago after carrying out his mission, instead he was trying, unsuccessfully, walk straight down the sidewalk. He could instantly eliminate that annoying effect of acohol if he wanted, after all he was an angel, but then what would be the fun? So he went on, ridiculously leaning against walls and posts and anything he could find.
His siblings several times tried to understand why he was doing that, tried to talk to him, tried to pull him out of the bar, even appealed to superior help, but Heaven was clear: as long as he fulfilled his mission correctly and didn't disturb human lives, Wangji could do whatever he wanted with himself. And he did. It had been a few centuries since his siblings had bothered him anymore.
But why, in fact, did he was doing this? He did not know. Or maybe he did, but it was a thought he preferred to keep under lock and key even from himself. It was so painful and probably so sinful that even though it had been so long, he still preferred not to face it. So he drank.
When his stomach decided it was too much, he grabbed the first thing that came his way and threw it all out. After a few minutes of staring at his own misfortune, which had resulted in a yellowish puddle of vomit, he got up and noticed that he was leaning on a pay phone. So he did what anyone does when they see one of these: test it to see if it still works. These devices became so obsolete that it was funny to find one that actually worked. Unfortunately (or not), Lan Wangji had no one to call.
So he just stood there, pressing random buttons, until his eyes fixed on something recorded on the phone and his heart raced. It was a number, which would come as no surprise to anyone, but who the number belonged to was curious: Lucifer, the Devil himself. Surely it was just a stupid prank some idiots had played, but wasn't he the one who was being an idiot tonight? Why not do something stupid too?
The movement of putting in a few coins and typing in the number was so fast he didn't even notice. But when the phone rang for the fifth time, he was already more relaxed. Obviously no one would answer.
And he was startled when, in fact, someone answered on the other line.
“Hello, why are you calling so late?”
It was him. God, it was him. Could only be. He remembered that voice so well that it was as if he was seeing the man it belonged to in front of him. But Wangji couldn't help but keep quiet.
"It's two in the morning, you shouldn't still be on Earth."
Wangji din't breathe, didn't dare. So many years, centuries, millennia. So long without hearing that voice that he was afraid to say something and it would all be a dream. But angels did not dream.
A sigh came from the other line.
“Wangji, why are you doing this? It's been a long time.” Hearing his name in that voice made him release the breath he'd been holding, and his eyes filled with tears. “You're so busy saving others that you can barely save yourself…” Another sigh. "Wangji say something, or I'll hang up."
“Wei Ying” he said quickly. It had also been a long time since he'd said that name out loud. "Hey"
Now the other side was silent. It had probably also been a while since the other had heard that name.
“Wei Ying, I want to see you.” Wangji said impulsively. "Please."
“Lan Zhan, you know you can't,” the name, spoken so calmly, so intimately, made his skin crawl. “Go home, please.”
The ending felt like a plea, breaking the heart of the angel who had already given up holding back tears.
“Wei Ying” his throat felt like a lump. He knew it was impossible, forbidden, and he would suffer terrible punishment if he broke the law any further, but he didn't want to accept it. Couldn't accept. “Please, I just want to see you. Please." The effect of the alcohol had worn off for some time, making the moment even more real and painful. "Let me see you and I'll go home."
A sigh on the other line and then the silence of a disconnected call. And Lan Wangji started to actually cry.
The streets, which blew nonstop, unexpectedly brought a hot wind nothing like the climate of the region.
“How ridiculously beautiful can an angel be when he cries?”
That voice, so close, without the hiss of the phone, made his heart race. He turned around and there it was. Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil. A creature that had so many names, but it had one that only a creature knew, that only Lan Wangji knew.
“…Ying, Wei Ying.” he tried in vain to wipe away those tears that seemed too human for an angel.
“Lan Zhan, honey.” The Devil, so beautiful as the day he falls from Heaven, revolted with the Creator for leaving humans, so fragile, to suffer such terrible plagues. So beautiful as the day he promised that would love the other angel until the end of time. His Wei Ying was approaching, then stopped when he got close enough to clean Wangji’s tears. “Long time no see.”
“I miss you” he finally admitted. “Every single day. I miss you so much it hurts.”
This time, Wei Ying’s eyes filled with tears. He didn't take his hand off Wangji's face.
“Me too, my love.”
“Please come home with me.” Wanji said impulsively, desperately. “Or let me go with you, but please don’t go away. Not again.”
“Lan Zhan, it’s too late. What’s done is done.” He knows it breaks the heart of the demon, once the most beautiful angel in Heaven, to say those words. And it breaks his too. “There’s nothing more that can be done.”
They hugged each other and cried an impossible love. They knew that moment couldn’t last forever, but they didn’t want to part.
“If there’s nothing to be done” started Lan Wangji when he calmed down “can I just talk to you now at least?”
“Okay” Wei Ying said against his neck.
“How was your day?”
“Good. My day was good.”