Chapter Text
The rain drummed relentlessly against the dirt path, but Wei Wuxian continued to trudge forward. The night was dark, and the rain plastered his dark hair to his face, making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.
At least he’d done what Jiang Cheng had asked.
Gotten lost.
The cold had long since washed away the heat of his anger, leaving him shivering, turning his fingers blue. It numbed every other feeling until Wei Wuxian could no longer ignore the way the resentful energy he had stuffed inside himself was beginning to gnaw at him.
Like a dog gnawing on a bone.
Each step felt a little harder than the one before, and soon he was struggling to simply stay upright. Wei Wuxian pinched his arm, grabbed a fistful of his dark hair and yanked. The pain helped to drive the darkness back from the corners of his vision, at least for a moment or two.
There had to be some small town up ahead. Wei Wuxian could rest at an inn, wait for his strength to come back, for his head to clear.
He knew he was lying to himself, an old habit to keep people from worrying.
Jiang Cheng…
There was no way he’d make it.
Shijie…
Wei Wuxian stumbled forward, a stubborn attempt to ignore his own weakness, but his legs gave way beneath him. Before he could even cry out, his chest slammed into the gravel, jostling ribs that had never properly healed.
I’m sorry.
The pain was like a shriek, a shriek that he bit back until metallic blood spilled into his mouth. The world around him spun into a blur.
A moment of rest, of waiting for the dizziness to clear, then Wei Wuxian tried to push himself back up. His arm collapsed underneath him and his chin banged into the ground.
He didn’t try to get up again.
Instead, Wei Wuxian’s throbbing lips cracked into a smile. Of course, it would turn out like this. He’d survived the burial mounds, survived the Sunshot campaign, only to be done in by a bit of rain.
He let out a loud, hysterical laugh. The laugh turned into a scream as he pulled on some hidden injury, sending a fresh wave of agony through his body. The noises melded together until Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure what it was. Every noise, every whimper, every sob that he’d bit back since that day at Lotus Pier all came rushing out.
At some point, he started coughing. Wei Wuxian curled up into a ball, as blood pounded through his head, pushing its way out of his nose. He watched it dissipate, blooming like a lotus in the puddles of mud, his breathing slowly quieting.
It had all been borrowed time, anyway, Wei Wuxian thought with a small sigh. Just delaying the inevitable, pushing it off because he needed to know everyone was safe.
He wasn’t shivering anymore. Some faint warning tugged at the back of his mind, screaming alarm bells at this discovery. Screaming that his time was up. That he was going to die here, alone.
And a part of him felt strangely at peace with that. Almost.
He just wished his last conversation with Lan Wangji hadn’t been an argument.
For a long while, he drifted in and out of consciousness. Waiting for death to take him down to the underworld, to drink a cup of Meng Po's soup, and to forget.
A faint sound broke through the rain. Wei Wuxian’s sluggish mind barely had time to acknowledge it, before it came again.
It was calling his name.
He blinked, trying to make sense of the faintly glowing white shape rushing towards him, but his vision was blurred, and before he could make it out, the figure had thrown itself down beside him.
“Wei Ying!”
The voice was choked, as if the speaker was struggling to hold back tears. Strong arms wrapped around his limp, useless body and hauled him out of the mud.
“W-Wei Ying. Wei Ying, I found you.”
Wei Wuxian dragged his gaze upwards, squinting. He let out a soft noise, the end raising into question.
The face in front of him smeared into a blur, morphing into the sunken gray face of a corpse, then Uncle Jiang, then one of his former shidi.
Of course, it wasn’t Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji was angry with him. Lan Wangji hated him, hated cold, hated getting dirty…
“Wei Ying, do not close your eyes. Stay awake for me.”
Wei Wuxian frowned, squinting up at the figure that kept swirling into different shapes.
But that voice…
“L’n Zh’n?”
“Yes. I am here.”
He wanted it to be true. He wanted it, so he accepted it, even though he knew Lan Wangji wouldn't come for him. Wouldn't kneel in the mud and hold a man who, just hours earlier, had yelled at him to get lost. To get out of his life.
But still... it was a lovely thought.
And so, Wei Wuxian let himself crumble. He let out a choked breath, and slumped against Lan Wangji’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent of sandalwood. The scalding heat of Lan Wangji’s body rippled through his own, making him shudder.
“Aren’t you…”
The rain continued to fall, peppering his face with icy droplets, and Wei Wuxian reached out with his hands, fingers scraping against Lan Wangji’s robe, trying to burrow even closer despite the overwhelming heat making his breathing come in unsteady, ragged bursts. His hand curled around the trailing end of a white ribbon. It felt cool against his palm.
“Thought you w-were… m-mad…”
He didn’t have the strength to even lift his head, but his gaze flickered up, trying to catch some glimpse of Wangji’s expression. It was useless. By this point his vision was so blurred with tears and exhaustion all he could make out was the white smear of a forehead ribbon.
“No.”
Ah, so it was just a dream, then. But it was such a lovely one... lovely except for the small fact that Lan Wangji's voice trembled.
“Not angry. Not at Wei Ying.”
A thumb swept over his cheekbone, and Wei Wuxian desperately pushed his face closer, trying to soak in as much warmth as he could.
He knew he shouldn’t be so close. He wasn’t supposed to let anyone touch him, most of all someone like Lan Wangji. Someone who could lay their fingers on his wrist and immediately feel the empty hole in his chest, stuffed with the “wicked tricks” that Lan Wangji hated.
He can’t let anyone know, get off, get off, get off—
But then another spasm of pain shot through his chest, the resentment flooding up his throat, choking him. For a moment Wei Wuxian could do nothing but dig his fingers into his own palm, fighting to get air. He gave a hacking cough and the metallic taste of blood spilled over his tongue, dripping out of his mouth onto Lan Wangji’s pretty white robes.
His numbed fingers fell away from the ribbon, landing with a thud in his lap.
“L-Lan Zhan…” His breath hitched. “D-don’t leave.”
The words were so quiet, so cracked and strained that he wasn’t sure if they’d actually reached Lan Wangji.
“D’n’t… d’n’t leave me…”
“I will not.”
Lan Wangji carefully slipped a hand behind Wei Wuxian’s head and pulled him closer, cradling his aching body with a tenderness that left him trembling. Overwhelmed.
“Rest. I will find somewhere safe to treat your injuries.”
Another quiet, exhausted sob escaped from Wei Wuxian’s throat. Tears mixed with rainwater, hot and cold streaming down his face. Lan Wangji was here. Lan Wangji was going to take care of him, Lan Wangji still came for him.
Then Lan Wangji shifted, and Wei Wuxian whimpered quietly as his body was jostled, though he knew Lan Wangji was trying to be careful.
“I am sorry.”
Wei Wuxian tried to say that it was fine, that he was the one who should be sorry, that he shouldn’t have snapped, he was sorry, he was sorry…
A sickening, dizzy feeling began to cloud over his senses. The world around him began to dissolve, as if reality itself was being washed away by the rain. He couldn’t feel Lan Wangji holding him any more. He couldn’t hear Lan Wangji’s voice, couldn’t smell the scent of sandalwood.
Lan Zhan—
Faint, whimpering gasps forced their way out of Wei Wuxian’s throat as he struggled to keep his eyes open, trying to focus on Lan Wangji’s face.
Don’t leave, you can’t lea…
Leave…
His eyes slipped shut, pulling him into deep darkness.
Alone.