Work Text:
“Baba.?”
Lan Wangji stared back at the youthful maple tree painted eyes, his delicate black lashes blinking away the cold tears that enveloped his own fiery eyes. The typical stoic and graceful expression now replaced with the burning passion of the past as the small toddler swirled around the hardened snack, roughly biting into the mushy entrance in the similar form of another certain cultivator.
“I am not your baba.” Lan Wangji spat out, with less ice in his throat than he meant to. Instead his insides burnt, his voice exiting as nothing more than a sorrowful plea. Despite the cruel original intention of his comment, Lan Wangji wrapped a careful hand around A-Yuan. “It’s Hanguang-Jun.” He corrected, despite the emotional scratches that covered his eyes. In complete honesty, he didn’t wish for either title to be placed on him. The only name Lan Wangji prayed to hear once more, would never sound the same.
Unlike his caretaker, A-Yuan was not interested in pounding his emotions back into his skull to remain unseen. “Baba is crying.”
Those aforementioned sharply elegant eyelashes shallowly attempted to flutter away those tears again, but as the result became fruitless, Lan Wangji could only hold the pudgy toddler close as he resisted the pressure of his quickly developing tears. Fortunately, no more questions were asked, instead Lan Wangji was greeted by a softer hug, and the sticky ooze of the hardened candy’s sweetened interior. The creamy substance provided a light stain onto the heavy fabric that covered those scars reserved for the owner of the same red ribbon that now was tied on Lan Wangji’s wrist, covered by a white sleeve.
“Gege.” He mumbled. “Call me gege.” He corrected.
A-Yuan’s eyes went wide, and he even gave a slight tilt at the head. “Ge…Gege?”
Lan Wangji spotted the simple familiarity in the toddler’s eyes when pronouncing the word. The remains of Lan Wangji’s already shattered heart began to prance around as they shoved their sharp ends into the cultivator’s eyes with excited vigor at Lan Wangji's own nostalgia.
With a heavy gulp, he then shook his head. “It doesn't matter what I am to you. Just don't tell anyone.” Lan Wangji declared, even if he could feel the additional pressure of his brother’s newly watching eyes.
Lan Xichen raised a brow at the odd red and torn ribbon that he barely spotted on his brother’s pale wrist. He knew better than to ask, only exiting the room with a sigh.
Lan Wangji barely glanced at his brother, before shuffling A-Yuan’s thin hair into a small ponytail by the use of the tearing ribbon from his wrist. It would only be a temporary style, but he couldn't resist the small grin from the toddler that even peered up just as Wei Ying’s.