Work Text:
Wei Wuxian wakes up too early.
When his eyes sluggishly flit over to the window, he finds that the sun hasn’t even risen yet. He’s not even sure what woke him up until he turns on his side, fumbles for another warm figure, and feels nothing. The sheets are cold and empty and likely have been for a while.
His husband has always been an early riser, but never this early. In fact, he’s been sleeping in lately (when Wei Wuxian begs prettily enough)! So the fact that it’s early, his husband-shaped pillow is gone, and the bed is cold, doesn’t add up.
Did something happen? Wei Wuxian sits up, rubbing his eyes. He, unlike Lan Wangji, is awful at waking up; he’s slept through multiple morning baths and constant poking and prodding. But still, sacrifices must be made for the valiant purpose of husband-finding. He refuses to rest in an empty, loveless bed!
When the tired haze has worn off a little, he registers a low, smooth sound in the distance. It’s quiet enough not to disrupt his sleep, but just loud enough for him to hear when he wakes. Qin music. Did Lan Wangji wake up just to practice the qin? Sometimes, in the morning, he practices quietly in the corner of the Jingshi, but there’s no reason for him to want to have a session this early, let alone an outside one.
Wei Wuxian stretches his arms above his head and swings his legs over the side of the bed, pushing the covers aside. When his feet touch the cold floor, he shivers and stays still until they warm up. He stands and bends down to grab one of his robes where he’d tossed it haphazardly on the floor yesterday, pulling it over his shoulders to fight off the chill.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he mutters, stepping around the partition and walking into the Jingshi’s main room, “how cruel, forcing your fragile wife to search for you at such an early hour.”
He fumbles for the screen door and frowns, having to pull his sleeves up to get a good grip. He sighs when he takes a second look at the robe he’d picked up- it’s one of Lan Wangji’s again. They’re comfortable, but the sleeves and the hem are inconveniently long.
He pulls it a little tighter around himself and finally slides the door open, taking a deep breath of the crisp air. He peeks his head out and his eyes narrow when he still doesn’t see Lan Wangji on the porch or in their garden. He’s starting to get worried, and he fiddles with the ends of his sleeves as he steps out of the Jingshi, looking around again to make sure Lan Wangji really isn’t anywhere nearby.
But no, it’s just the cold, empty night sky and moon-soaked grasses. Wei Wuxian worries his bottom lip between his teeth, resting his hands on his hips. He huffs and goes back inside to pull on his boots before continuing his search.
Wei Wuxian thinks that if the music is close enough to hear, there are very few places Lan Wangji could’ve possibly gone. One is the rabbits’ hutch, which he decides to check first. The rabbits live a short distance away from the Jingshi, and Lan Wangji spends a lot of time there (with Wei Wuxian tagging along, of course).
The closer he gets, the louder the music grows, and Wei Wuxian relaxes a bit more with each step. Lan Wangji may just be paying their bunnies a late-night visit, or he might’ve forgotten to feed them earlier today. Has he done the same thing before, with Wei Wuxian sleeping through it?
Finally, a white, shimmering silhouette comes into view. Wei Wuxian grins, his steps lightening with relief. “Lan Zhan~!” he calls. His heart goes soft at the way the moonlight reflects off Lan Wangji and leaves the edges of him glowing beautifully. Light bearer, indeed.
But Lan Wangji doesn’t reply. Wei Wuxian frowns, thinking maybe he hadn’t been loud enough, but his next call is cut short when he gets close enough to see his husband fully. Lan Wangji’s qin is set out before him on his lap, and his fingers dance elegantly across the strings as usual, but his nimble fingers are red at the tips. There are wet spots on the wood that may be teardrops, and his long lashes tremble as he looks down.
Wei Wuxian’s traipse turns into a run, stumbling to Lan Wangji’s side and falling to his knees.
Wei Wuxian has seen Lan Wangji cry only two times: in the cave before they killed the Xuanwu of Slaughter, and the Guanyin Temple when they both confessed (Nightless City also, probably, but he can’t remember any of that.) So seeing it now, in the middle of the night, has Wei Wuxian panicking. “Lan Zhan! What happened?”
Wei Wuxian’s hands settle down nervously on Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “What is it, what’s wrong?” He asks as Lan Wangji stiffens under his touch. He scans his body frantically for any injuries.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji murmurs, leaning into Wei Wuxian’s hands when they move to cup his face. Wei Wuxian moves his thumbs to stroke underneath his husband’s eyes and frowns at their redness.
“Yes, yes, it’s me. Lan Zhan, what happened? Why are you out here, it’s so cold out!” He begins to rub Lan Wangji’s cheeks softly, trying to put some warmth back into the skin.
“I didn’t want to wake you.” Lan Wangji says, calmly letting Wei Wuxian fuss over him.
“Well, you woke me anyways!” Wei Wuxian huffs. “How can I be expected to sleep in an empty bed? You’ve spoiled me, I can’t stay asleep without you around anymore.”
Lan Wangji stays silent, his eyes trained on the grass. Wei Wuxian frowns, and gently asks, “Really, Lan Zhan, what’s wrong?”
Between the two of them, Lan Wangji is the more closed-off one. He doesn’t have the privilege of getting to lie as Wei Wuxian does, so he just stays quiet when he doesn’t want to answer a personal question. Knowing this, Wei Wuxian isn’t surprised when Lan Wangji doesn’t respond, but it does make him even more worried. He sighs. “Alright, let’s just go back inside, okay? I can feel my legs starting to go numb. Up, up.” He tugs Lan Wangji to his feet, letting him put away his qin before leading them both back to the Jingshi.
“I wouldn’t have minded if you’d woken me up, you know.” Wei Wuxian says after a bit of silence, still holding on tightly to his husband’s hand.
“I know.” Lan Wangji replies.
“Even though I would’ve complained at first, you should know by now that doesn’t mean anything. I complain all the time. Just let me know when you’re going to disappear next time, Lan Zhan, I was really worried!”
“Apologies,” Lan Wangji murmurs, squeezing his hand.
“Aiyo, just don’t do it again.” As they reach the Jingshi, Wei Wuxian slides the door open and quickly shuts it, shivering at the frigid air trailing after them. “Cold, cold! Lan Zhan, get in bed, come on.” He squeezes Lan Wangji’s hand and pulls him into bed, manhandling him under the covers and crawling on top of him.
Lan Wangji’s arm comes up instinctively to wrap around his waist, and Wei Wuxian buries his head into Lan Wangji’s chest, where he can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat. “I was worried,” Wei Wuxian says again, muffled, and Lan Wangji’s grip tightens, holding him closer. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but if you want to, I’ll listen. I can be a good listener when I want to, even if your uncle says otherwise.”
Lan Wangji lets out a small breath of laughter. “It’s…” he hesitates, very uncharacteristically. It makes Wei Wuxian even more worried. “Today brings back bad memories.”
“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says quietly. “It’s an anniversary?” He feels Lan Wangji nod, his chin moving against the top of his head.
Wei Wuxian concentrates and tries to sift through his memories, seeing if he’s forgotten anything. “The burning of the Cloud Recesses?” He guesses, earning a dismissive hum. “Oh. Hm… the day your mother passed?” He can feel Lan Wangji shake his head.
Moving his elbows to either side of Lan Wangji’s body and looming over him, Wei Wuxian squints at him and furrows his eyebrows, deep in thought. “Ah,” he feels a dawning, sickening sense of revelation, “Nightless City?”
Lan Wangji doesn’t reply. He looks as stony and blank-faced as ever, but Wei Wuxian can see the way he’s stiffened, and how he won’t meet his eyes anymore. “Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, his heart dropping to the bottom of his stomach. “It is, isn’t it? I’m sorry.”
“Wei Ying should not apologize,” Lan Wangji bites out, immediately turning to look at him. He seems to be on the verge of tears again.
“You’re right, you’re right,” Wei Wuxian soothes, bringing a hand up to Lan Wangji’s face and brushing his fingertips against his cheeks, tracing nonsensical patterns. “No apologies. Do you want to talk about it?”
After a short silence, Lan Wangji closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. “What is there to say?”
“Well, why were you outside?” Wei Wuxian asks, shifting and trying to get even closer. In moments like these, when Lan Wangji has this sort of heartbreaking expression, he wishes he could wrap him up in his arms, grow taller and broader just to hide him from the rest of the world.
“In the past,” Lan Wangji murmurs, pulling him back down so they’re pressed chest-to-chest, “I spent this day outside. Playing music for you, every year.”
Now Wei Wuxian feels like it’s his turn to cry. “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I? I’ll be able to hear you this time, I can even play with you. Just, ah… maybe later. When I’m less likely to fall asleep halfway through.”
Lan Wangji laughs quietly again, and it only sounds a little sad this time. “Of course.”
They lapse into silence again. Despite himself, Wei Wuxian’s blinks are getting longer, and he yawns, his mouth moving against Lan Wangji’s neck and making him shiver. “Go to sleep,” Lan Wangji says softly, beginning to stroke his hair.
“You’re upset,” Wei Wuxian replies, struggling to stay awake.
“Not as much as before.” One of Lan Wangji’s hands comes down to hold Wei Wuxian’s waist gently, his warm palm practically burning through the fabric of his robe.
“If you leave again, tell me.” Wei Wuxian insists, his words beginning to slur. “When I wake up again, we’ll have breakfast, and we can go play music together with the bunnies."
“Mn,” Lan Wangji hums fondly. “We will.”
“So don’t be sad, Lan Zhan. Let’s sleep now, okay? I’m here.” Wei Wuxian kisses Lan Wangji’s skin, slipping further into the warmth of sleep.
When his breathing finally evens out, Lan Wangji smiles up at the ceiling. Somehow, unlike every one of the thirteen years before, he manages to rest peacefully, under the comfortable weight of his soulmate.