Work Text:
M-I-S-S
Four letters of brevity, four words that had grown to define the Second Jade of Lan’s life in the years since his passing.
Yearning . Lan Wangji knows the feeling well. He's gotten used to it over the years- the fluttery feeling of the stomach, combined with the pang of the heart, an immutable symphony that reminds him of wild laughter, a crashing crescendo. He remembers grey eyes as bright as stars, remembers petal pink lips that tasted the sweetest against his. Still, with every pluck of the string, one of his own heartstrings reverberate in a song of hope, only to be greeted by one thing-
Silence . He's gotten used to it over the years, too. His days have long since become monotone, a mindless drone of lessons, meditation, showers and sleep. Not even the students are interesting anymore, having fallen into an overbearing silence. The class is filled with nothing but the staccato taps of brushes and pencils against paper, with eyes glancing back at him, that are as dull as the graphite they carve into the paper. Lan Zhan can't bring himself to remember .
He misses the grey eyes that used to light up, grey eyes he's traced the outline of countless times in ink and graphite, and yet always failed to capture- there was something about his eyes, a luminosity that neither ink nor graphite could ever capture, a softness despite the pain that Lan Zhan couldn't help but cling onto. 8 letters ring true. I miss you.
There are days where Lan Zhan can't get the words past his throat, days filled with endless tears and anguished cries. Days where all he remembers is aching, a piece of himself ripped out and carved when the other left. He's haunted by a silhouette, one that's falling. But he stumbles through them. How? He's not quite sure, either. How he's surviving, how he's breathing despite the gaping hole in his heart, shaped like a boy he'd held so closely and yet watched from afar so long ago. The days pass like years, and Wangji can't wait for them to end, just so he could see him again. The world goes into swirling black when he closes his eyes, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he's falling.
He doesn't feel the descent.
The next time he feels something, he opens his eyes.
Pain .
“Wei Ying?” He calls out, his voice soft and unsure. He's not quite sure where he is, standing at the edge of a field. There's nothing around him, except endless shades of green. The grass is wild and tall, nearly reaching him mid-calf. There's no building in sight, just a tree, the only splash of brown in the ocean of green. Wangji can see the flowers cascading down. They're a pretty pink sight, reminding him of a similar cascade of flowers years ago. There's a sketch he has in mind, one he's kept hidden for years. Mentally, he traces over every brush stroke, feeling where ink seeps into paper, and he's reminded of him .
A portrait of himself stares back at him in black and white. In his eyes, Wangji looks so stoic, yet there's a tenderness to his features no one else has seen before, one that Wangji himself hadn't even thought was possible. Until he met him. He'd never seen someone so bold before, someone so full of color, despite the grey robes he wore. The moment Wangji clasped his eyes upon him, he knew he'd never be able to look away.
The sun and moon were an overused cliché, but in their last few months together, Lan Zhan finally understood it. The sun and moon were two bodies in orbit, doomed in an eternal dance- one burned brightly, while the other was always cast in its shadow, following it fervently, as if the small glimpse of its glow was enough. And perhaps it was, at least for a while- bright enough for it to shine while the rest of the world was cast in shadow. There was no happy ending to that take, that much Lan Zhan knew. Still, he yearned .
Yearned for the boy who taught him to see colors, who'd colored his world despite the grey world he himself lived in. With him, the monotone view of the world seemed to extinguish, and something within Lan Zhan continued to ache.
For the boy as bright as the sun, as who blazed as quickly, perhaps too quickly for Lan Zhan to ever grasp onto. He was forged from disaster, like a nebula collapsing into itself thanks to the one thing that held it together- as rapidly as he ignited, he burned, consumed- he lit himself to keep others warm, not caring that he himself would collapse anew.
The dreamscape that surrounded Wangji was bright, blessed by the sun's glow. It scorched . The silence answered his earlier call, the same way it had the last few times he was here. Still, he clung onto hope, held onto the fleeting glimpses he caught- a flash of red ribbon, the monochrome dash of robes against the emerald backdrop that seemed to vanish the moment he sought it. “Are you here?” The question died on his lips, a mute cry lost to the unsettling rustle of the grass and the slow, stilted cascade of petals.
This was a silence Wangji hadn't quite gotten used to, even after so many years. He stumbled forward blindly, his feet shuffling awkwardly in front of him without a place to go. Still, he moved. Threading through the grass, away from the peony tree. Somehow, no matter how far he strayed from where he started, the tree remained in view, a constant he wasn't able to shake off. I miss you.
He'd long since lost track of the words in his mind, lost track of the number of times they'd played, over and over like a broken record. Wei Ying, he pleaded. He didn't believe in deities or fate, not anymore, but he couldn't bring himself to stop praying, stop pleading for him. Grief crashed over him like a wave, that much he knew. It was cold and salty, unrelenting and harsh as it drowned him, and Lan Zhan knew it wasn't long before he was pulled under .
When he came back to his senses again, he was standing beside a river. The waters ran clear, yet there was something murky about them, a depth that Lan Zhan couldn't quite decipher. Every now and then, he thought he caught a glimpse of a face, but they seemed to come and go, and he put it up to his wishful thinking. Without thinking, he took a step forward, his eyes fluttering shut as his foot hovered over the surface of the water. He could feel the cold mist lapping close, nearly like phantom hands. He took another step forward.
Only to be pulled back abruptly. Wangji turned towards the direction he was pulled, only to find himself face to face with-
Petal-pink lips, grey eyes that reminded him of smoky quartz, translucent and opaque all at the same time.
“Wei Ying?” The name fell out of his lips before he could stop them, but the boy simply smiled and nodded. But…was he even a boy anymore? His skin was translucent, his robes a soft, iridescent white that seemed to glow in the warm sun they basked in. It was as if he was incorporeal, a phantom before his eyes.
But he was here.
After years of longing, years of yearning, years of missing- he was here . Wei Ying's outreached arm fell back in place, a smile adorning his face. Impulsively, Lan Zhan leaned forward to hug him, arms wrapping around his translucent form. To his surprise, Wei Ying was corporeal, and he could feel the hard press of his spine against his arm, though some part of him knew that he wasn’t breathing. He could feel phantom hands encircling his own waist, pulling him closer until there was barely any space between them, a chasm that neither could quite cross. “I missed you,” the words slipped out, entirely too easily. Lan Wangji a few years ago would never have dared to say that, but now…
The words barely encapsulated what he’d felt, the very tip of the iceberg of emotions he’d been feeling- some part of him left when Wei Ying did, leaving a gaping hole in his soul where the other boy should have been. Because in loving, you weren’t always complete- you became part of a puzzle, waiting for the other piece to slot in- it didn’t always make you whole, just gave you a better picture of the mosaic of people who came in and out of your life. But in Lan Zhan’s puzzle, Wei Ying was the biggest piece. It was surreal to have him here, to feel him against his fingers.
“Can I hold you?” Wei Ying's laugh was like a melody to Lan Zhan's lovesick ears, one he'd craved to hear. I'm haunted by you , he wanted to say. But at the same time, he would have it no other way. After all, to love was to lose. And to lose was to fall .
But not today. “You're already holding me, silly,” Wei Ying continued chuckling, mirth lining his eyes. “And of course you can,” his smile deepened, “You don't have to ask. I’ve missed you, too.”
His fingers drifted across Lan Zhan's skin, a mischievous grin on his face. His touch felt like butterfly wings, delicate and gauzy, with a slight undercurrent of texture. He was gentle, gentler than he'd been all those years ago when they first kissed. Then, his touch had been like brash brushstrokes- fervent, hurried and bold. They were living on borrowed time then, the way some small part of Lan Zhan knew in the back of his mind now. Are you real? He wanted to ask, but he didn’t dare to- he’d gotten too tantalisingly close to question, not without shattering himself.
His eyes traced over the familiar planes of Wei Ying's face, sloping over the flush of his cheeks, the tilt of his chin- the outline of his jaw, the glow in his eyes- features he’d memorised and forgotten many times in the years he'd lost him. Time was an eraser, gnawing away at the edges of his memory. But he’s here. And for the first time in a long while, Lan Zhan's heart began to fill . But like the lungs of a drowned man, he knew it would combust eventually- the fill had been slow, then all too rapid. An unspoken goodbye.
He could see it in the way the silhouette of the younger boy seemed to blur beneath his fingertips, the grin on his face slowly fading into a wistful smile. Our time is up , Wangji wasn't quite sure how, but he knew . There’s so much I want to say , he thought. But so little time. But then again, he’d never been the best at words. Instead, he lifted his left hand up, moving to cup Wei Ying’s face. He cradled it gently, savoring the soft press of skin against his- in this form, his skin was as smooth as porcelain, without the little ridges that Wangji remembered. A reminder. That this was fleeting, simply a moment cast in time. But he would remember .
“I've to go soon,” Wei Ying's voice was softer this time, nearly faint. Lan Zhan could feel the press of cheek against his fingers fade. The younger boy's skin seemed to dissipate, too- turning clearer and clearer by the moment. “I promise I'll come and find you,”
“I’ll be waiting,” Wei Ying’s smile was incandescent, glowing under the shine of the sun.
Goodbye. The word flittered around Wangji’s mouth, but he couldn’t get them past his throat, couldn’t bear to say it another time.
With one last gush of energy, the other boy tiptoed, pressing a chaste kiss against Lan Zhan's forehead. Instinctively, his eyes fluttered shut, and he was falling once more-
The last thing he remembered was a press of lips against his temple, a quiet promise-
“I’ll see you again.”