Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian had never seen so many people in one place.
It was exhilarating. It was loud. It was sweaty. It was impossible to see anything .
“Who the hell designs these stages for short people to suffer?” he grumbled, bouncing on his toes to catch a glimpse of the lead singer’s neon-dyed hair above the forest of raised arms. All he saw were heads and arms. So many.
To his left, a guy holding two drinks wobbled dangerously. To his right, a girl perched on her boyfriend’s shoulders screamed something unintelligible in delight. Wei Wuxian narrowed his eyes. Shoulders. That was the way to go.
He turned around, determined to find someone generous, tall, and either slightly drunk or wildly susceptible to charm.
That’s when he saw him .
Tall. Unbothered by the crowd. Standing still like a lighthouse in a sea of chaos, arms crossed over his chest. Hair tied back in a sleek, low bun, he was wearing a white hoodie with black bluetooth earphones slung around his neck. He looked like the only person not shouting or filming or vibrating out of their skin with excitement. And somehow- somehow - despite the shoulder-to-shoulder crush of the pit, everyone around him maintained an instinctive two-centimeter distance, like he radiated an invisible force field. It wasn’t much space, objectively, but in concert physics, it may as well have been a castle moat.
Wei Wuxian zeroed in.
“Hi!” he shouted over the music. “I know this is weird, but can I climb you?”
The man blinked once. Slowly.
Wei Wuxian laughed. “Okay, let me rephrase. I can’t see anything. You are very tall. Could I- possibly- get on your shoulders? Just for one song. Or two. Depending on your structural integrity.”
A pause. Then, impossibly, a nod.
Wei Wuxian’s mouth fell open. “Wait, seriously?” He hadn’t expected such resounding success on his very first attempt.
The man bent a little and tilted his head in silent invitation.
“Oh my god,” Wei Wuxian breathed, delighted. “You might be the nicest person I’ve ever met.”
There was no room to crouch fully, not in this sardine-packed corner of the pit, which meant getting onto Lan Wangji’s shoulders would involve real coordination and a frankly absurd amount of trust.
Wei Wuxian bounced once on his toes, then braced a hand on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Okay- hold still,” he warned, already stepping onto his thigh like it was a ledge.
He hoisted himself up, legs scrambling, boots catching briefly on Lan Wangji’s hip. It should have been awkward. It was awkward. But then-
Then strong hands caught him by the waist and lifted.
Wei Wuxian startled. The motion was smooth, controlled, strong - and before he could properly register it, Lan Wangji was guiding him into place, letting him sling a leg over his other shoulder, settling him high above the crowd like he weighed nothing.
Wei Wuxian’s fingers scrabbled for balance, catching briefly in Lan Wangji’s hair- then sliding in to stay there. “Okay, wow, sorry- your hair is really soft.”
The man didn’t respond, but his hands slid to grip Wei Wuxian’s thighs firmly, holding him steady. His fingers flexed once, slow and deliberate, before going still.
Wei Wuxian’s stomach flipped- definitely because of the environment- the adrenaline, the lights, the rush of being airborne.
Still, he was grateful for Lan Wangji’s grip, because his balance was definitely not the only thing feeling unsteady.
Because suddenly, he could see everything - the riot of light spilling across the crowd, the shimmer of bodies moving like waves, the band front and center under the glare of strobe and color.
Impossibly, a breeze lifted his hair- and he whooped, wind light in his lungs, joy bright in his throat.
From beneath, Lan Wangji said nothing, but his hands stayed steady.
“This is amazing,” he yelled down. “You’re amazing! What’s your name?”
“Lan Zhan,” came the reply, quiet but firm.
Wei Wuxian beamed. “Lan Zhan!” He peered down at him, amused. “No offense, but… this doesn’t really seem like your type of scene.”
Lan Wangji didn’t look up, but his head bobbed gently in agreement. “My brother’s partner is the drummer.”
“Oh?” Wei Wuxian blinked, looking up at the stage with new perspective.
“Brother asked me to attend at least one performance,” Lan Wangji said, calm as ever. “I am glad I chose today.”
The implications of that sentence delighted Wei Wuxian but before he could say anymore, the music swelled. The band launched into their next song. Wei Wuxian whooped again, waving his arms in the air with abandon. Lan Wangji didn’t wobble once.
After the chorus, Wei Wuxian leaned down. “Okay, you’re seriously strong. Like, leg and core day everyday?”
“Mixed martial arts.”
“Oh, wow ,” Wei Wuxian said, thrilled. “Are you on Instagram?”
“No.”
The song ended in a blaze of lights and shrieking fans. Wei Wuxian reluctantly tapped Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Okay, I’ve had my fun. Want me to hop off?”
“You may stay,” Lan Wangji said, his tone indicating nothing.
Wei Wuxian blinked. “Really?”
Lan Wangji nodded once.
Wei Wuxian leaned forward until he could peer down at him. “Hey, is it cool if I take a few pictures? To post? You might be partially visible in them.”
Lan Wangji looked up at him, golden eyes soft. “I do not mind.”
“Thanks.” Wei Wuxian adjusted his grip slightly- one hand still buried absently in Lan Wangji’s hair for balance- and angled his phone toward the stage. He took a burst of shots: the blur of lights across the crowd, the drummer caught mid-solo in silhouette, and just barely in the frame, the curve of a hand resting steady on his thigh. His own hand was visible too, fingers tangled lightly in dark hair near the edge of the shot. He snapped a few more before switching off his phone and putting it back inside.
He sat back- metaphorically- and let himself enjoy the music, legs draped over Lan Wangji’s shoulders, one hand pressed gently to the crown of his head to steady himself.
When the final set ended and the lights dimmed, the crowd exploded into cheers. Wei Wuxian finally climbed down, a little flushed and extremely windblown. His boots hit the ground and he looked up at Lan Wangji, suddenly and stupidly unsure what to do next.
“Thanks,” he said, all grin and brightness again. “Seriously. You made my night.”
Lan Wangji studied him, eyes dark and unreadable. Then he pulled something from his hoodie pocket, wrote on it, and handed it over.
Wei Wuxian looked down. It was a folded paper- concert ticket stub on one side, a neat string of numbers on the back. A phone number.
He looked back up, startled.
Lan Wangji gave a slow nod. “If you wish to meet again.”
Wei Wuxian stared at the number, then back at him. “You’re smooth, Lan Zhan.”
“Mn.”
Wei Wuxian’s grin turned soft. His heart skipped, unreasonably. “I’d like to see you again.”
Lan Wangji inclined his head. “I look forward to it.”
And just like that, he vanished into the dispersing crowd.
Wei Wuxian stared after him, dazed. Then he looked down at the number again.
The crowd surged around him, noise and motion and neon lights- but Wei Wuxian stood still, smiling like someone who’d just been handed the best gift in the world.