Work Text:
Wei Wuxian had died.
When Lan Wangji heard, he dragged his injured, broken body to Yiling, searching for any trace of Wei Wuxian. He searched for hours, but nothing—except for a small child that was cleverly tucked into a tree stump.
For the first time in his twenty-two years of life, Lan Wangji touches alcohol. He tosses his head back and lets the strong, bitter liquid touch his lips, coating it in the flavour Wei Wuxian liked most. He doesn’t enjoy it, but he understands why Wei Wuxian would. Wei Wuxian was always attracted to the stronger flavours, the bolder ones—ones like him.
Lan Wangji drinks more from the bottle, emptying it completely.
In his drunken haze, he recalled Chenqing—the obsidian coloured flute wrapped around familiar fingers. If he could have it, maybe it would be like Wei Ying never left. He vaguely remembers his brother offering him a white flute, but he pushes it away.
“No!” he remembers saying.
The flute was not white. It was black with a red tassel hanging from it with familiar lips and fingers pressed against it.
Then, he remembers seeing the Wen branding iron and, for a moment, he sees Wei Ying. He sees a flicker of Wei Ying’s scar and he reaches for the iron, pressing it to his chest. He remembers feeling the scorching pain of iron against his skin, burning a remembrance of Wei Ying into his flesh.
Lan Wangji lies in his bed, alone and thinking of Wei Wuxian. He closes his eyes, imagining his smile, his laugh, the way he says his name. He feels the memories slipping away slowly, but he holds onto them ferociously, as if without them he’d die.
Eventually, he falls asleep and drifts into a dream.
Lan Wangji opens his eyes, and he sees the familiar face—Wei Ying, a younger Wei Ying. He’s smiling in front of him, his eyes crinkled at the corners while waving a hand in front of him.
“Lan Zhan!” he says. “Look!”
Lan Wangji doesn’t know how to act. He doesn’t know what to say. All he can do is watch as Wei Wuxian sits in front of him, his head tilted inquisitively.
“Hey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, scrutinizing him, “What’s happened? Too hypnotized by my good looks?”
That’s when Lan Wangji snaps out of it, turning his gaze away from Wei Wuxian.
“Shameless.”
Wei Wuxian lets out a long, drawn out sigh. “Ah, I should have guessed. You’re so boring!”
Lan Wangji closed his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows slightly.
“What,” he sighs. But, in his clear eyes, there’s a spark of something—something that can only be described as fondness.
“Hahahahahaha!” Wei Wuxian laughs. “Lan Zhan, you stick-in-the-mud, you want to see?”
“...”
Lan Wangji simply nods, controlling his motions so as to not give himself away.
“Lan Zhan, it’s a gift for you!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, a large smile stretching across his face. He holds up a piece of paper—one that has Lan Wangji’s likeness painted onto it.
A flicker of softness warms the usual coldness in Lan Wangji’s eyes. Everything he’s ever wanted, right in his grasp.
“Do you like it?” Wei Wuxian smiles, his toothy grin giving away the slightest bit of mischief glinting in his eyes.
“Mn.”
“Hahaha, of cou—” Wei Wuxian furrows his eyebrows in surprise. He’d expected a different response—anger, frustration, rejection—but not this. “Lan Zhan, are you okay?”
“Mn.” And then he softly replies, “Any gift from Wei Ying, I will accept.”
Huh?
Needless to say, Wei Wuxian was severely confused.
“I-Is that so.” Then, resuming his usual tone, he says, “Then, you better be ready for everything I’ll give you, Lan Zhan!”
Lan Wangji merely nods. “Mn.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong with you, Lan Zhan?”
“I am sure.”
Lan Wangji stares at Wei Wuxian, his eyes unblinking and clear of any frustration. Wei Wuxian almost sees a tinge of softness radiating from within.
“Ah! Then, have I grown on you?” Wei Wuxian teases.
“...”
“Aha!” Wei Wuxian exclaims. “Hahahahahaha! I have, haven’t I? Hahahahaha!” He collapses into peals of laughter, clutching his stomach while Lan Wangji just stares at him, his ears burning.
“Sitting improperly is prohibited,” Lan Wangji says, lifting his eyes from Wei Wuxian.
“Hah! Of course!” Wei Wuxian sits up, but his figure remains slouched.
Lan Wangji doesn’t point it out, however. He continues writing on the pieces of paper, copying text over and over again.
“You’re so boring, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian collapses dramatically, falling onto Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Don’t you do anything for fun?”
“...”
“Wow! Life in Cloud Recesses really is that boring.” Wei Wuxian draws out his words, dramatizing his boredom.
If this is a dream, then he might as well indulge, right?
“Then,” Lan Wangji quietly says, “show me.”
“Huh?” Wei Wuxian straightens quickly, looking Lan Wangji in the eyes. “Show you what?”
“How to have fun.”
Huh? Huuuhhh? Lan Wangji? Good ol’ stick-in-the-mud Lan Wangji? One of the Twin Jades of Gusu? Classic fuddy duddy?
Wei Wuxian almost collapses from shock.
“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian places the back of his hand on his forehead, “Are you sure you aren’t running a fever…?”
“Mn.”
Wei Wuxian just shrugged it off. Maybe Lan Wangji had woken up a new man, but whatever. As long as Wei Wuxian is able to do what he wants without Lan Wangji ratting him out.
“Okay then! I’ll be back,” Wei Wuxian gets up to leave, but he feels a hand clamp down on his wrist.
“...”
“Lan Zhan… How am I supposed to show you how to have fun if there’s nothing fun in this room?” Wei Wuxian laughs lightheartedly, using his other hand to pry Lan Wangji’s hand off his wrist.
“I’ll come.”
“Huh?” Wei Wuxian doesn’t even bother trying to keep in his shock. “B-but, Lan Zhan, one of us has to stay here.”
“No.”
“Aiya, Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian lets out a sigh. “Fine! But don’t blame me if we both get in trouble…”
“Mn.”
But, they never do get in trouble because Lan Wangji feels himself fading away. He reaches for Wei Wuxian, trying to grab his hand, his robe—anything. But, it all slips away, leaving him with nothing but a lost dream and a memory that becomes solely his.
Lan Wangji blinks a few times, as if unable to understand that this is his reality—a reality without Wei Wuxian, his Wei Ying.
“Wei Ying,” he whispers, a soft sound full of yearning that falls upon deaf ears and gets swallowed by the breaking of the dawn.