Work Text:
Lan Wangji is learning that being accustomed to the way of things and tolerating them is not the same as truly enjoying them.
He is accustomed to people thinking he’s cold and unfeeling, but he likes that his brother understands him well. Though, perhaps a little too well at times.
He is accustomed to silence, and sometimes needs it, but he grows to like the loudness of his classmate, Wei Ying.
He is accustomed to watching Wei Ying from afar, but likes when Wei Ying notices him and waves his arms excitedly.
He tolerates touch, but when Wei Ying runs to him smiling and throws an arm around his shoulder, oh, he loves this, when Wei Ying touches him. He tolerates distance, but loves the warmth of the sun that is Wei Ying.
He is accustomed to learning old compositions on his guqin, but he loves to compose, putting his heart into every pluck of the strings.
He tolerates the time without Wei Ying. He loves teaching Sizhui all that he knows.
He is accustomed to his life in muted grays. A dizi reminds him of a love he had tolerated living without.
He is accustomed to the winter snow of Gusu, but he loves the growing warmth of the coming spring, the bloom that springs forth: the sun’s return.
He is accustomed to his wardrobe of whites and blues. He loves how he feels in red and gold.
He is accustomed to the freezing waters of the cold springs, but enjoys the warmth of the rivers in Yunmeng.
He is accustomed to not indulging in sweets, but can’t deny he enjoys the tanghulu Wei Ying shares with him.
He is accustomed to waking up before the sun and starting his day. Now, he loves waking up to the sun in his arms, and putting off the day for just a while longer.