Archive of Our Own

“Pst. Pssst. Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji turned around. In the desk behind his, Wei Ying smiled, eyes crinkling pleasantly where his fist smushed up against his cheek. A breeze from the window pushed lightly at his bangs. The rest of the class was packing up, but Wei Ying seemed ready to fall asleep. With one hand, he tapped lackadaisically at his notebook. 

“Homework?” he mouthed. 

Lan Wangji lifted his own notebook slightly, so Wei Ying could see the assignment for tomorrow.

Wei Ying winked, then closed his eyes, content to bask in the sun like a cat while the rest of the world hustled on. Wei Ying always had an excellent memory, when it counted. He would have the assignment done the next day, and his answers would be brilliant—Lan Wangji’s were only ever perfect. 

Lan Wangji packed his belongings and made his way towards the exit. 

“Wait for me?” he heard behind him. 

He didn’t answer. They both knew he would. 

Wei Ying showed no intention of moving. If anything, he was melting into his seat little by little, head nestled into his arms. Beneath the whir of the overhead fan, Lan Wangji listened to him breathe.

Lan Wangji glanced out into the hallway. By now, it was empty. Most of the students were heading home already. Laughter trickled into the open window from the parking lot. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits these days, with graduation just around the corner.

Lan Wangji considered the clock on the opposite wall. Now was as good a time as any. 

“Wei Ying.”

No response. Lan Wangji thought he might have actually fallen asleep.

“Wei Ying,” he tried again, more firmly.

 Wei Ying hummed without lifting his head.

“You’re not him.”

At this, he finally looked up.

“You are not Wei Ying.”

The boy at the desk regarded him for a few seconds, before scratching his head and sitting back in his chair with a sigh. Then he chuckled.

“And I thought I was doing a damn good job too.” He beamed at Lan Wangji, whose heart cleft in two.“You really are something, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji's reality shattered, then condensed, reduced to nothing but the lilt of Wei Ying’s voice, which seemed to ooze out of the walls, the ceiling, the floors. 

“How could you tell?” it asked.

—

Lan Wangji did not procrastinate. He did not dally or dither. He would, however, occasionally take the long way home from school. 

He found that the scenic seclusion of the woods agreed with him and preferred the ambiance of rustling leaves and cicadas to the roar of engines along the main road. He could (and frequently did) pass an hour or two or three nestled in some quiet sun-spotted patch of dirt, reading. 

If he came home after sunset, his uncle would chide him, but he always returned before curfew—technically no rules were broken. Even his uncle took daily walks for his health and well-being.

Besides, Lan Wangji would not take long. 

Lan Wangji followed the trail to the old wooden bridge across the river. It had never seemed particularly safe—the wood was aged and warped, the surface slippery with moss—but Lan Wangji always thought it was handsome (which said something about his tastes).

Lan Wangji sat on the bridge, legs dangling between the railing. He watched the water rush below him. Leaves and algae floated leisurely downstream, slivers of silver scales rippling beneath the water’s surface. Wei Ying had always tried to catch them with his bare hands. Lan Wangji imagined what it would feel like to fall in.

It would hurt, he reasoned. Today, the river ran low, shin deep at best.

He got up. He'd be back tomorrow. He had been there everyday for the past month.

This was the place where Wei Ying had drowned.

__

At least, that’s what Lan Wangji had been told.

Wei Ying had vanished the night of a bad storm, and when the search party found his book bag under the bridge, his belongings much further away where they had been carried downstream, they reached a grim conclusion.

Then, five days after disappearing, Wei Ying walked right out of the forest and into his house. 

According to Wei Ying’s own testimony, he had fallen in the river and been swept away. When he had come to, he had gotten himself lost in the dense wilderness of the mountains. It had apparently taken him all that time to find his way back, though his recollection was a bit foggy.

Aside from a few scrapes and bruises, he was unharmed. The police asked him a few questions, but in the end, his survival was a miracle, not a reason to pry. Everyone moved on, relieved.

—

The two of them had grown up on the same side of town, where the population of children was small enough that they incidentally spent plenty of time together. Eventually, and to Wei Ying’s dismay, Lan Wangji’s uncle had agreed to watch over him while both of his parents were out. 

Lan Wangji and Wei Ying never got along better than when they were sitting side-by-side watching thirty minutes of a documentary about space. Lan Wangji had an inkling that his uncle had reluctantly increased TV time from fifteen minutes a day to thirty just to get a few more moments of peace from Wei Ying.

“But past our solar system,” Wei Ying had asked, mouth filled with pieces of the carrot stick, “there’s got to be aliens, right? If space is infinite, or whatever?” 

At that age, Wei Ying was convinced that Lan Wangji had the answers for everything. Lan Wangji thought so too. 

“Most likely,” he answered sagely, sitting on his hands to suppress his own excitement. At that, Wei Ying had screamed, and Lan Wangji’s uncle cut TV time short for the day.

Wei Ying told Lan Wangji that his parents climbed up into the mountains some nights, trekking through the woods with a telescope to study more about the stars and planets and solar systems. They said he might be able to come too, someday, but that he was too young right now. Lan Wangji thought that was selfish of them and was secretly jealous. 

The mountains, lush and untouched, loomed forebodingly in the distance, a deep-green backdrop to the town’s going-ons, respected but rarely explored. When Lan Wangji had asked his uncle about them, he’d pragmatically warned him about the dangers of landslides and death by exposure. Lan Wangji doubted that most of the townspeople were worried about landslides.

When both of Wei Ying’s parents died in a hiking accident three years later, Wei Ying went to live with his god family, and Lan Wangji privately wondered where they had been when Wei Ying needed looking after all those years. 

—

"Took you long enough.”

Wei Ying’s godbrother sulked against a streetlight just beyond the school’s exit. Nie Huaisang was waiting with him.

“A-Cheng! Nie-xiong! Thank goodness you're here. Lan Zhan has been talking my ear off!” He nudged Lan Wangji with his elbow. “Lan Zhan, apologize for making us late.”

Jiang Cheng briefly addressed Lan Wangji, shooting him a look that simultaneously said “sorry about him” and “serves you right, you bastard.” Lan Wangji just nodded.

“Lan Wangji,” Nie Huaisang acknowledged, cordially. They walked side-by-side, brothers bickering up front.

Nie Huaisang broke the silence, fiddled with the straps of his bag. “Er, um.” 

Despite their older brothers being close friends, he and Nie Huaisang had never had much to say to one another. Since they had met, any amount of eye contact from Lan Wangji would send Nie Huaisang blushing and scurrying away. Even now he could hardly look at Lan Wangji head-on, eyes darting back and forth between his wringing hands and the ground. 

Nie Huaisang cleared his throat. “How is Wei Wuxian?” he asked.

Lan Wangji clenched his jaw to stop the lie that had started to form.

“How do you mean?” he asked, instead. 

Nie Huaisang laughed, a little nervous. Ahead of them, Wei Ying was trying to give Jiang Cheng a noogie. 

“He seems different these days, no? Can’t really put my finger on it, but…” Nie Huaisang talked around his thumbnail, which he chewed as he walked. Uncle would have had a fit. “Did he say anything to you? After he came back?”

Lan Wangji shouldn’t have been surprised at Nie Huaisang’s suspicion. Nie Huaisang probably spent more hours in the day with Wei Ying than he did, if he did the math. Wei Ying had a big circle. He knew where he stood.

“He did, didn’t he?”

Jiang Cheng had broken free from Wei Ying’s hold and was now attempting to kick him square in the ass. Wei Ying chattered incessantly as he dodged, and Nie Huaisang tracked his movements like a prey animal.

“Da-ge and I—um, well. Maybe we could help? I know that sounds crazy. But if you think—If he’s in any trouble, that is.”

Lan Wangji blinked, unmoored. Help? 

As though he could do something to ease Lan Wangji's disconcert, which made no sense at all. Nothing made sense, these days.

What was he doing, walking home with these boys, day after day? He'd never asked to join them and they'd never asked why he had tagged along. Wei Ying had dragged by the wrist one day, and the others had given him sympathetic looks, taking it as a given that he'd acquiesced to Wei Ying's pestering. They didn't realized Lan Wangji had taken advantage, inserting himself into the rhythm of Wei Ying's day-to-day and manufacturing ways for their lives to overlap.

Nie Huaisang had been in his house before, yet this was one of the longest conversation they'd ever had, if it even counted. Lan Wangji had yet to respond.

"Lan Wangji?"

Nie Huaisang was staring directly at him now, timid, but insistent. Lan Wangji had always assumed his eyes were green, like his brother’s. Up close, they were nearly grey.

“You can tell me, you know. I'd believe you.”

Up ahead, Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng had made up, not that they were ever really fighting to begin with. Lan Wangji couldn't make out what they were saying over the passing cars, but Jiang Cheng seemed to be smiling, a little bit.

Nie Huaisang was waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he answered, eventually. He decided it didn’t count as a lie. 

They walked the rest of the way down the main road in silence. Nie Huaisang wouldn’t bring it up again. 

—

Lan Wangji and Wei Ying hadn’t been friends. At least, throughout their entire childhood, Wei Ying had never once called them that. 

Wei Ying had friends—he talked about them all the time. “My friends and I came up with this really fun new game,” or, “My friend taught me a new swear word.”

For obvious reasons, Lan Wangji did not think much of Wei Ying’s friends.

“This is my friend, Lan Zhan.” Lan Wangji tried to imagine it in Wei Ying’s voice. He found he did not have a good enough imagination to make it believable. 

When Wei Ying left to live with the Jiangs, Lan Wangji assumed it was the end of their makeshift companionship. He was wrong. Wei Ying was more hell bent than ever on intruding into Lan Wangji’s life. 

“A-Jie thinks I have a girlfriend. Can you believe it?” thirteen-year-old Wei Ying asked, standing knee deep in the river, where he had sworn he'd heard a frog. His shoulders were already beginning to sunburn. 

“No, I can’t,” Lan Wangji responded from the bank, where he had been reading in the shade before Wei Ying had unceremoniously decimated his peace and quiet.

“Huh!?” Wei Ying shot up with a genuine look of surprise. “Why not?”

Lan Wangji looked up from his book to stare pointedly. One of Wei Ying’s flip flops was floating downstream. Wei Ying followed his gaze and yelped as he chased after it.

Lan Wangji turned a page in his book. “Why does she think that?”

“How should I know! She keeps winking at me when I say I’m going out. She probably asked Jiang Cheng, and I bet he said something stupid.” Shoe retrieved, Wei Ying went back to scanning the river bed. “Who would I be dating? I’m either running around town with Jiang Cheng or out here with you.”

Wei Ying fixed Lan Wangji with another wide-eyed look of surprise. 

“Lan Zhan, I think A-Jie thinks you’re my girlfriend!”

At that, Wei Ying burst into a fit of laughter so hard he landed on his ass in the middle of the water.

Lan Wangji thought about slamming his book shut and storming away. He thought about throwing the book at Wei Ying's head for good measure. He held his breath, waiting for Wei Ying to pretend to wretch or ask prying questions at his expense. It never came. 

Wei Ying wasn’t looking at him at all. Laughing fit having apparently passed, he sat partially submerged, gazing into the line of trees, head slightly tilted and eyebrows furrowed. Lan Wangji followed his line of sight. He didn't see anything. 

Wei Ying got back on his feet and resumed his search, filthy from the waist down.

After confirming that he was not, in fact, about to be teased, Lan Wangji retreated into his book. 

“Idiot,” he grumbled, ears warm. 

—

Lan Wangji had always known he was different from other children and never felt he cared very much.

He was smarter, sure, but that wasn’t all. He never found himself hungry for connection, the way his peers were. He didn’t dislike them, but he felt most comfortable at a distance. When he was coaxed into speaking, he could be blunt and stern, traits his brother had warned him may be interpreted as rudeness. 

Lan Wangji assumed this is why he never excelled at making friends. Adults liked him more than children, because he was polite and got good grades, but he wasn't doing any of it to be liked.

Lan Wangji was respectful and skilled because that’s how he was raised. He was diligent and truthful, because that’s who he was. 

When the boys in class started noticing girls, stealing their erasers and tugging at their ponytails, he discovered the differences ran even deeper than he'd realized. 

Lan Wangji knew this wasn’t bad—he wasn't hurting anyone, after all. He also knew that it was better to keep this discovery to himself. One day, he would move to a city somewhere, and he wouldn’t follow anyone’s rules but his own. He could wait. He was patient.

Until then, he refused to think of himself as less than for it. He thought too highly of himself. He thought too highly of Wei Ying.

—

As usual, Nie Huaisang had split off towards his house first. The Jiangs were the next closest residence, and Lan Wangji, when he joined them, was last. At the next traffic light, Wei Ying grabbed his elbow.

“Jiang Cheng, you go on ahead—I’m going to walk Lan Zhan home!”

“What?” Jiang Cheng protested. “Why the hell would he need you to walk him home?”

“A-Cheng, if you’re that scared of going home by yourself, you’re welcome to come along.”

“Eat shit, Wei Wuxian.” Jiang Cheng turned to leave, then called over his shoulder, “And stay out of the fucking mountains—we’re not looking for you if you get lost again!”

Wei Ying clicked his tongue. “Well, Lan Zhan?” 

Without another word, they took the forest path back to Lan Wangji’s. 

—

“How could you tell?” he had asked, back in the classroom. 

Since Wei Ying's reappearance, it wasn’t as if there were any glaring, obvious signs that something was amiss. But Lan Wangji knew Wei Ying, so he knew that Wei Ying had not been normal prior to disappearing. 

He slept through his classes, and when he was awake, he seemed jumpy, on-edge. Each day his eyes would get darker, his wrists would get thinner, and Lan Wangji would see less and less of him. 

The night before he went missing, Wei Ying had walked Lan Wangji home from school. In the past, they had walked together often, and Lan Wangji had always pretended not to know Wei Ying was sneaking away to hang around his parents' old house afterwards.

This was the first time in a long time, however, and Wei Ying was uncharacteristically quiet.

Before parting ways, Wei Ying had stopped Lan Wangji on his porch with a hand on his sleeve.

“Hey, uh, don’t wait up for me tomorrow. I’ve got some things to take care of, okay? I’ll probably be late.” 

Wei Ying had brought his parents' telescope bag to school that day. Lan Wangji hadn’t seen it in years.

“Alright,” he said. Wei Ying let him go but made no move to leave just yet. Lan Wangji's elbow was warm where Wei Ying had grabbed it. 

Wei Ying turned to look off towards the mountains and let out a low whistle when he saw them silhouetted in dark clouds. “Would you look at that? Even out here in the boonies, you won’t be able to see a thing tonight.”

Together, they watched the sky, a few seconds stretching into infinity. Wei Ying had walked him home. Now, Wei Ying was lingering on his porch. What if, what if, what if?

“Fuck me, I guess.” Wei Ying sighed, adjusting the telescope bag on his shoulder. It must have been heavy, and he had walked it all the way to Lan Wangji’s. “You know, I keep wondering what they saw the night they died. I didn’t even think about it at the time, but when I try to think back to that night–the weather or something—I don’t remember at all. I hope they saw something good, in the end. I guess we’ll never know, right?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji didn’t know how to comfort someone. He had never been asked to before.

“Can I tell you something, Lan Zhan? I think I really hate this place. No, I know I do. Everyone here is so—so complaisant. Scuttling around like a bunch of ants. We put our heads down and work, work, work, and then, one day, we just die, without figuring anything out at all. What’s the point of any of this? 

“Because you have to, right? Even if you don’t want to. Even if you wish you'd never known at all. Even though you—” Wei Ying cut himself off, turning back to look at Lan Wangji, as though he just realized he was there.

“You know what I mean, Lan Zhan? If someone took one of your precious books, ripped it up in your face, and told you ‘well, you just aren’t meant to know this,’ you’d probably spit on them, right?”

The side of Wei Ying's lip quirked up, and Lan Wangji couldn’t tell if he was joking. It seemed Wei Ying didn’t know either. He sighed.

"What am I saying? I don’t know. You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?”

The wind picked up, lifted Wei Ying's hair up off of his face, and he looked so young then—like they were eight-years-old, and Lan Wangji had the answers to all of his questions. 

“Do you?”

I want to. I’ve never wanted anything more.

Thunder sounded overhead, inky swathes of clouds beginning to spread. A droplet fell from the sky and landed on Wei Ying’s cheek.

“You should get home,” Lan Wangji said, wretchedly inadequate.

For a short moment, Wei Ying looked disappointed. It passed, just as quickly. 

“Sure, Lan Zhan.” He waved goodbye without looking back. “See you later.”

It had stormed heavily that night. Wei Ying had slipped, fallen into the river, and drowned. Then he came back.

At school, whatever had been brewing inside of him seemed to have evaporated with his return. He smiled at Lan Wangji, and it didn’t seem burdened. Lan Wangji wanted to believe that Wei Ying had just healed, found answers elsewhere, but he knew better.

For the first time in his life, Lan Wangji wished he could be different. That he had turned out to be a little less astute and a little bit more compassionate. If only he was someone who could say the right thing at the right time—Wei Ying wouldn’t have felt the need to go up into those mountains to search for the comfort Lan Wangji was incapable of giving.

If only he was foolish enough not to notice the difference when he came back. 

Since he was none of those things, he shouldered the weight of knowing exactly how badly he had failed Wei Ying.

—

As usual, Lan Qiren was not pleased to see Wei Ying in his home. He had softened after the news of Wei Ying’s parents’ deaths, but it had not lasted long, as Wei Ying’s already unruly behavior blossomed in adolescence. 

“Wangji, you didn’t tell me you were bringing guests. Your brother is coming for dinner, and I only prepared enough food for three.”

“I’m not staying long!” Wei Ying shouted as he herded Lan Wangji into his own bedroom. His uncle said nothing, likely content to avoid speaking to Wei Ying longer than he had to. 

Wei Ying muttered at him to close the door, but once he did, Lan Wangji found it difficult to turn back around and face the boy behind him. No, not a boy, he reminded himself. Not Wei Ying. He stayed facing the door, holding onto the knob like a lifeline.

“Is he dead?”

"Cutting right to the chase, huh?”

Lan Wangji waited.

“Yes."

Had it hurt more, the first time? No, but the pain had been swift and brutal. He'd never seen it coming, refused to accept it until he saw a body. He'd held onto his hurt, wanting to keep it vicious. It wasn't until after Wei Ying had been found alive and well that he'd allowed himself tears. 

This time, he'd been prepared. He'd had an inkling, he knew, and still he ached. Felt the cavernous expanse of his chest radiate with grief, scooped raw and bleeding.

How was he supposed to survive this? Losing him twice.

"Yes, kind of," it continued. "Maybe. In a way, but I don’t know the details.”

Lan Wangji closed his eyes, searching the ache inside of himself for the right thing to do.

“Did you kill him?” he asked, at last.

“No! No, no. He was in pretty bad shape by the time I ran across him. He asked me to do this, actually.”

At that, Lan Wangji turned. He had always been able to tell when Wei Ying was lying, but the thing in front of him looked sincere. He didn't know what to believe.

“But he’s gone?”

“Not gone per se, it's just he's sort of…” It made a wispy gesture with its hand. “And the, uh, I guess the stuff that was left behind—well, I was created from that.”

Lan Wangji's eyes narrowed. “And something else.”

“And something else,” it repeated. 

Lan Wangji stared at it, tried to piece together where Wei Ying ended and something else began. Under scrutiny, it began to fidget, and Lan Wangji wondered if it felt anything at all while pantomiming Wei Ying's nervous ticks.

The thought enraged him.

“What are you?” he demanded. 

“I’m not sure how to answer that.”

“Try!” Lan Wangji barked, startling them both. He held his breath, waited to see if his uncle would come running in to check what the matter was. 

After a moment, Wei Ying, or the thing that looked like him, broke the silence. 

“Lan Zhan, you spend a lot of time in the woods. But you stay on the path, no? When you leave the main road to enter the forest, you follow the trail, past the river, and into the town, right? Have you ever wondered what would happen if you stepped off the trail? Haven’t you ever tried?”

The creature took a few steps forward. Wei Ying’s eyes, warm and brown, seemed to glow crimson in the evening light.

“Wei Ying? He doesn’t always follow the trail. Do you understand? He goes deeper into the forest. Up into the mountains.” Another step forward. Lan Wangji took a step back.

“Do you have any idea what's out there? Wei Ying knew. His parents knew.” 

Another step. Lan Wangji felt the door against his back

“Would you like to know too?”

—

Wei Ying had no way of knowing, but Lan Wangji had strayed from the path before. Once, in the summer before his first year of high school. 

The month before, a litter of rabbits had sprung up around the trail. It happened often enough, and Lan Wangji tried to give them their space. That evening, however, Lan Wangji caught sight of a snow-white kit dashing into the brush, a splash of red along its side. 

Lan Wangji did not think nature should be disturbed, but he followed anyway, in case it needed help. 

Abandoning the trail, he made his way slowly through the woods, eyes glued to the ground. The brush got denser the further out he went, and he reminded himself to step carefully and check for ticks once he got home. It was safer then, to keep his eyes down.

The more he walked, the harder it was to see. He didn’t think it was that late, yet. The foliage must be thick, blocking out the late evening light. It was eerily silent. No stirring of leaves, no humming of insects. Just the crunch of Lan Wangji’s footsteps in the undergrowth.

He had no sense of how long he'd been walking and decided he might just turn around after all, when he spotted something: a white tuft near the base of a tree up ahead. Lan Wangji approached, crouching down to get a better look.

The baby rabbit was lying on its side, pink viscera smeared over bark and dirt. It has been staring up into the sky, wide-eyed. Petrified. 

Lan Wangji felt it then—billions of eyes blinking down at him from above. Hungry, hostile, daring him to look up. Lan Wangji had always been smart. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt: if he looked up, he would die.

He turned around and sprinted back to the trail. Wouldn’t look up until he had found the path once more. Couldn’t breathe right until he was out of the forest entirely. It was dark outside—later than he’d thought.

That night, he dreamed of dozens of rabbits, eating themselves alive in the moonlight.

—

“Man.” The thing in front of him searched his face, barely a couple of steps between them. “I was really, really hoping you wouldn’t find out.”

“And now that I have?”

No answer.

Lan Wangji wondered, would he run, if it lunged for him? Or would he let himself be devoured—experience what Wei Ying must have, in his final moments. 

Maybe afterwards, there wouldn’t be a body. It would consume him and take over his life next. The creature walking around calling itself Lan Wangji would be a bit of him, a bit of Wei Ying, and a bit of something else. 

It couldn’t be that easy.

The monster just stared at him, face close and painfully empathetic, the way Wei Ying would get sometimes. 

It’s not him, he had to remind himself.

“Lan Zhan. When I say that he’s a part of me now…I’m addicted to energy drinks, I think?” 

Lan Wangji blinked, lost. 

“I don’t even like the taste. Some of the flavors are alright, I guess, but I couldn’t stop drinking them even if I wanted to. This morning I tried one of Jiang Cheng’s protein shakes? Why would anybody drink that? I don’t hate myself that much. It was disgusting, but I knew it would be before I drank it, even though I’ve never tasted one first-hand. You see what I mean?”

It took a deep breath and started again, more slowly.

“I can see all of his memories. More of Wei Ying's than my own, to be honest. My pa–Wei Ying’s parents’ house. I walked past it, the other day. And, even though I never really knew them myself, I tried to picture their faces, and when I couldn’t, I—I got so frustrated that I started crying. Seriously, what the hell is that?

“I really do feel like I am him, at least, I would if I didn't know any better. In theory, everything he was capable of, I am too. It's his body, his mind. But—wow, how do I put this?”

Rust-tinted eyes studied Lan Wangji’s face. He wondered what kind of expression he was making. 

“Maybe it’s just one of those things, like when you have a near-death experience and everything just becomes clearer even though really nothing’s changed at all. Not that nothing’s changed! Obviously, for me, this is very different, and I’m sure it’s even more for you, but—shit. How could you tell? Tell me, seriously. It’s—There’s—You’re just so—!”

It looked up, helplessly.

“I feel everything he would feel. I know every thought he's ever had, that he can remember at least. But I don't get it.”

It sighed, and Lan Wangji felt its breath on his face. Had Wei Ying ever been this close before?

“Lan Zhan, I know it's not fair to ask, but could you just pretend? Maybe Wei Ying is technically gone, but he's here in a way, right? Isn't that enough?”

No, Lan Wangji thought.

“Why?” he asked, instead.

It blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Why are you doing this? What do you want?” His voice cracked at the end, and the monster in front of him looked at him with pity.

It shrugged. “At first, I just wanted to exist.”

It put its thumb to Lan Wangji's cheek and swiped away wetness he hadn't even realized was there. Then its eyes flickered down to Lan Wangji’s mouth.

“Now?”

It’s not him, it’s not him, he told himself, again and again.

“I guess I want the same things he wants.”

It pressed its lips to Lan Wangji’s. 

It was everything he thought it would be, and nothing like he'd imagined. The kiss tasted like salt and smelled like earth and ozone and Wei Ying. For a moment, Lan Wangji forgot that his world had ended.

Wei Ying's tongue slid across his own, and, somehow, he thought of rabbit innards.

—

If Lan Wangji was impressive, Wei Ying was extraordinary. 

They had so little in common. Wei Ying had always been flighty, frantic, and distracted. How could he not have been? There were always a hundred people and things demanding his attention. Lan Wangji felt lucky to receive even a fraction of it. He was just one of the many caught in Wei Ying’s orbit, blinded by his brilliance.

Wei Ying existed; Lan Wangji was in awe of him.

Of course he noticed when something changed.

Wei Ying disappeared, and when he came back, he looked at Lan Wangji, really looked at Lan Wangji, like he was everything. 

How could he tell? 

Because it had seemed too good to be true.

—

Wei Ying chewed on the inside of his cheek as he lingered on the porch. Lan Wangji thought of rolling clouds and telescopes.

“What was he doing out there?”

“Looking for trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

Wei Ying smiled. “I’m not telling. Let’s just say he found it.”

When Lan Wangji frowned, Wei Ying reached out to grab his hand. 

“Ah, Lan Zhan, don't. He went out to–to look at the stars!” He gave Lan Wangji’s hand a squeeze. “Isn’t that nice?”

A blatant lie, but how could Lan Wangji resent him for it—Wei Ying would have told the very same.

“Walk me to school tomorrow?” 

Lan Wangji didn’t answer. They both knew he would.

He watched Wei Ying retreat, then panicked, calling out to him again.

“Did he know? Before–” Lan Wangji swallowed, hard. “Did he know?”

Wei Ying hesitated. Then answered, “I know how I feel when I think of you. When I picture you in my head. When I look at you, standing in front of me. I know how I feel right now.” He smiled, apologetic. “Sorry, I wish I could give you a better answer.”

—

“Ah, Wangji. I heard Wei Wuxian stopped by earlier. I’m sorry to have missed him. Tell him I said hello.”

Lan Wangji nodded at his brother, staring down the fish fillet on his plate. He had been a vegetarian since he started high school. To his uncle, this evidently meant eats fish sometimes. He felt nauseous.

“How is he?” Lan Xichen asked. The house had been so much quieter, since he had moved out. Lan Wangji and his uncle typically ate their meals in silence. “I haven’t seen him at all since he returned home.”

“He is well,” Lan Wangji lied. 

“Oh, well, that’s good.” Lan Xichen seemed determined to continue talking. “I’m glad. You’ve always been such a good friend to him, Wangji. I’m sure he appreci–”

Lan Wangji stood up, alarming both his uncle and brother with his abruptness.

“Uncle, I do not feel well. May I be excused?”

His uncle coughed, disapproval momentarily overridden by concern. “Very well.”

—

Lan Wangji didn't sleep. How could he, in a world where Wei Ying did not exist? How dare he eat and breathe and have his hand held in a world without Wei Ying. 

He had already mourned him, but he could do it again. He would do it forever. Lan Wangji would have to make up for the rest of the world, who did not know they had anyone to grieve. 

He turned on his side, let his face rest in the dampness that had accumulated on his pillow as he stared out the window. The night sky was clear, billions of stars reminding Lan Wangji that the universe was infinite. Wei Ying, his Wei Ying, had existed. 

Once, Lan Wangji had liked a boy. That boy no longer existed in this world, but he could pretend, if he chose. In the morning, he could get out of bed, he could meet Wei Ying at his house, and they could walk to school together.

Was that enough?

It would have to be.