Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian woke up to an empty bed.
For a long, drowsy moment, he lay there tangled in the sheets, his face buried in the pillow that still smelled faintly of sandalwood and something cool, clean Lan Zhan. The morning light slanted through the curtains in golden stripes, but the other side of the bed was neatly made, the blanket folded back precisely, as if its occupant had never been there at all.
That, in itself, wasn’t unusual. Lan Zhan was always an early riser up before dawn, serene and disciplined as ever, while Wei Wuxian clung to sleep like a stubborn cat refusing to move from a sunny spot.
Still… today felt different.
He rolled over, squinting at the clock on the nightstand. 9:42 a.m.
The date blinked back at him in neat white digits: October 31.
Wei Wuxian groaned. “Oh, right. That.”
Halloween. Everyone was probably busy with costumes, parties, candy. No one remembered that it was also his birthday; a curse he’d had since middle school. He’d long ago accepted it: he was the boy who brought cupcakes to class and got overshadowed by pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies and fake vampire fangs.
Not that he minded. He was an adult now, after all. Grown men didn’t pout over forgotten birthdays.
Still… a tiny part of him had hoped Lan Zhan might say something.
Last night, Lan Zhan had kissed his forehead before bed, murmured a soft, “Sleep well, A-Ying.” That was all. No mention of what tomorrow was. No hints, no suspicious bags or hidden boxes in the closet.
Maybe he really had forgotten.
Wei Wuxian sighed dramatically, rolling out of bed. “Ah, A-Ying, your life is a tragedy,” he muttered to himself, dragging on a hoodie and padding toward the kitchen.
The apartment was spotless, of course — Lan Zhan’s influence everywhere. A vase of white lilies sat on the table, the faint sound of a guqin playlist humming from the speakers. The air smelled faintly of green tea.
But no husband.
There was, however, a note on the counter.
Wei Wuxian picked it up, heart giving a hopeful flutter. The handwriting was unmistakable elegant, careful brushstrokes, as if even a grocery list were a sacred text.
🐇A-Ying,
Please stay home today. I will return before noon.
Do not open the fridge.
– LZ🐇
Wei Wuxian blinked. “Do not open the fridge?!”
Naturally, the first thing he did was march straight to the fridge.
Inside, the top shelf was covered by a suspiciously neat layer of foil. He poked at it, but it held firm. Something underneath smelled faintly sweet like cake? Frosting? Lan Zhan had baked.
He grinned. Oh, this was definitely something. His Lan Zhan, the man who measured rice grains by the gram and never burned so much as toast, would absolutely go to the trouble of making a birthday cake and pretend it wasn’t a big deal.
That soft, quiet husband of his so good at pretending indifference while secretly planning everything.
Wei Wuxian smiled to himself and decided to play along.
He made coffee, humming a tune, trying not to look too gleeful. If Lan Zhan wanted a surprise, he’d act surprised. He could do that. He was excellent at theatrics, after all. Hours passed in gentle quiet. He tinkered with a few work emails, played with their cat, Bunny (a gray fluffball who’d adopted them last year), and tried to ignore the curiosity gnawing at him.
At exactly 11:59, the door opened.
Lan Zhan stepped inside, wind-tousled and beautiful in his calm way wearing a soft white sweater and carrying a plain paper bag in one hand. His eyes lifted the moment they met, softening in that way they always did when they landed on Wei Wuxian.
“A-Ying,” he greeted quietly.
Wei Wuxian tried not to smile too widely “Welcome home, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Zhan crossed the room with that slow, deliberate grace of his, setting the bag on the table. Then, to Wei Wuxian’s surprise, he held out his hand.
“Close your eyes.”
“Oh?” Wei Wuxian tilted his head, grinning. “So mysterious. Should I be worried? You didn’t bring home another rescue animal, did you?”
“No,” Lan Zhan said simply, lips twitching just slightly the tiniest almost-smile that Wei Wuxian would die for. “Trust me, A-Ying.”
Wei Wuxian closed his eyes obediently. He heard rustling paper, maybe ribbon and then the sound of something soft being placed in his hands.
“Open.”
Wei Wuxian peeked — and nearly burst out laughing. It was a plush rabbit. Snow-white, with a tiny pink nose and floppy ears. Around its neck was a blue ribbon that matched Lan Zhan’s sweater.
“Lan Zhan… you didn’t!” he said, voice half-laughing, half-soft with affection.
“You like rabbits,” Lan Zhan said simply. His tone was quiet, but there was warmth there a faint gleam in his eyes that said I pay attention to every small thing about you.
Wei Wuxian hugged the toy to his chest, laughing. “I love it! Look at this little guy! He’s so soft! What should I name him? Lan Zhan Junior?”
Lan Zhan blinked once. “…No.”
Wei Wuxian snorted. “Then what, Lan Bun? Hanguang-Junior?”
That earned him the faintest sigh and a shake of Lan Zhan’s head. But there was that subtle curve at the corner of his mouth again, Lan Zhan’s version of a smile. Wei Wuxian reached out impulsively, tugging Lan Zhan closer by the sleeve. “Thank you, Lan Zhan. Really. You didn’t have to.”
But before he could finish, Lan Zhan leaned in and pressed a kiss that was light, reverent to his forehead. Wei Wuxian froze, heart stuttering, as warmth spread through him.
“Of course I did,” Lan Zhan murmured against his skin. “It’s your birthday, A-Ying.”
Wei Wuxian’s breath caught. “…You remembered.”
Lan Zhan drew back just enough to meet his eyes. “I remember everything about you.”
The words were simple. But the way he said them soft as the brush of silk, with the steady conviction that always lived beneath Lan Zhan’s calm exterior made Wei Wuxian’s throat tighten. He laughed to cover it, but his smile trembled a little. “You’re so unfair, Lan Zhan. How am I supposed to compete with that kind of romantic line?”
Lan Zhan tilted his head slightly, a tiny furrow of confusion in his brow. “It is not a line. It is true.”
Wei Wuxian laughed outright this time, the sound bubbling free. He set the rabbit plush on the counter and pulled Lan Zhan fully into his arms.
“Well, when you put it like that,” he whispered, “how could I ever stay mad?”
Lan Zhan’s arms came up around him automatically, strong and sure, holding him close. The rest of the world could keep their Halloween. Wei Wuxian had everything he wanted right here, the steady heartbeat against his cheek, the soft sandalwood scent, the warmth of being remembered. Lan Zhan didn’t need grand gestures. Just quiet, perfect ones.