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It was just after 11:30 PM when Lan Xichen left the bar, and made his way toward the curb. The final remnants of ice from last week’s snow crunched beneath his boots. Noise from passing cars clashed with voices and music muffled by glass. Traffic moved slower at this hour, but it never stopped.
He wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck as he saw the fog of his breath on exhale, and hoped his driver wouldn't be much longer.
When Lan Xichen left his office several hours prior, going home to his empty apartment seemed untenable, so he had gone to a bar. Caiyi House was rather tame compared to other establishments. It was a teahouse by day, but it was still lively enough to drown out some of his most anxious thoughts–even if just for a moment.
He did this a few nights a month. The bartender seemed confused that he never ordered anything other than a club soda, but he tipped well, so they let him be.
He was trying to find a way to fill the emptiness in his chest– his life really. Lan Xichen knew he wasn't the best at being alone–he was quite horrible at it in fact, and now he was alone more days than not.
Wangji spent most of his free time with Wei Wuxian, and he was so happy his brother found someone that loved as intensely as he did, but a couple of lunches a week and Sunday dinner just wasn't the same.
There had been Jin Guangyao–that was a disaster of epic proportions. They had started out well enough. He was clever with a sharp wit and undeniably charming.
He was also a distraction from–other considerations.
However, he quickly saw that clever mind that drew his attention turned on him. Sure, the other man swore he had no clue about his father’s schemes, but the evidence was damning, and now that he knew to look for it, he couldn’t help but see the machinations behind the facade.
As a dull ache began to settle in his fingertips, he tucked them in his pockets–away from the frigid air. His mind lingered on who it always did, the man whose absence felt like a limb cut from his body.
Though honestly, it was much worse.
One could survive without a limb.
He still wasn't sure how one survived without Nie Mingjue. He had never wanted to find out, and that had been their undoing.
The routine was misery.
Not only was he still lonely after several hours surrounded by too loud conversations, and too many bodies bumping against him, but there was also a persistent ache growing behind his eyes.
He thought he finally saw his driver approaching–stopped at a light one street away. Lan Xichen longed for a reprieve from the cacophony of sounds and glaring lights filling the street, but his attention was drawn to the dimly-lit alley behind him by a pained groan.
Against his better judgment, he moved cautiously towards the noise, and as he peered into the alley, he noticed the slight frame of a man slumped against the weathered brick with blood slowly pooling beneath him.
Rushing forward, his phone quickly found his hand, and he dialed on instinct.
“911. What’s your emergency?” The operator said at the other end.
“I’m at the corner of 2nd Avenue and 76th Street, and someone has been attacked. They're bleeding,” Lan Xichen reported, phone held tightly to his ear. Still standing, he scanned the rest of the alley for the man’s attacker, but it seemed that they had already fled.
He noticed a knife embedded in the man’s side, and he sprung toward the now rousing figure to stop him from pulling out the blade. Kneeling beside him, he stopped short of any contact.
“No! Leave it in!” Lan Xichen urged as calmly as he could manage. The hem of his ivory overcoat was staining a faint pink color at a troubling rate as blood met ice. The comment only earned him a groan in reply, but the man didn't try to remove it again.
“Ok, help is on the way. Sir, do you see his attacker in the vicinity?” The dispatcher asked, and Lan Xichen peered around the alley again, noticing a crowd beginning to form at the mouth of it.
“I don't see anyone else. He's been stabbed in his side. He's bleeding badly.” Lan Xichen answered.
“And what is your name, sir?” The operator said in what he suspected was supposed to be a soothing tone.
“Lan–Lan Xichen,” he said, feeling decidedly not soothed.
At that, he heard a mumble from the man below him as he struggled to move again.
“Please, stay still–you need to be still–” he took the man’s hand in his free one, squeezing steadily, and grimacing at the blood against his palm.
“Ok. Sir, I need you to describe the injured party.” The operator spoke again.
This was easier said than done as the man's face was slumped in the opposite direction, long hair falling in disarray. The part of his face he could see was already blooming with bruises that would surely worsen with every minute that passed.
“He looks like he’s in his early 20s, male–,” Lan Xichen paused as the man tried to speak again, “hold on. He's trying to talk.” He leaned in further, hoping to make out the struggling man’s words.
“Er-ge” he finally heard. The voice was strained but undeniably familiar.
Blood drained from his face. The rough brick now against his shoulder was all that stood between him and the pavement.
There was ringing in his ears as he lifted a trembling hand to the other man’s chin, turning it to confirm what he already knew.
“A-Sang,” he cried, scrambling closer, dropping his phone to the ground in his frenzy.
“Er-ge,” Nie Huaisang repeated again, nearly whispering while staring up at him with glassy eyes–the left one nearly swollen shut.
Nie Huaisang’s chin fell to his chest, unable to hold it up any longer.
“No, no, no. A-Sang, you have to stay with me. Stay–” Lan Xichen shook his arm as much as he dared, trying to wake him without injuring him further.
“Sir, do you know the victim?” The operator spoke loudly, interrupting his panicked efforts.
“His name is Nie Huaisang,” Lan Xichen found his now wet phone, switching it to speaker before he continued, relaying what information he could to the operator who asked him to stay on the line until emergency services arrived.
“A-Sang, I need you to stay awake,” he pleaded.
“Er-ge ’s so cold, wan’ Da-ge.” The younger man’s body slumped, seemingly losing the last of his strength, but Xichen caught him just in time, guiding him to lean against his chest and wrapping an arm around him–holding his weight.
He began to run a hand carefully through Nie Huaisang’s hair, unraveling tangles–just as he had when the younger boy had nightmares as a child and would come crawling into bed with him and Nie Mingjue.
“Don’ go, Er-ge,” he slurred. “Please, don’ leave again–”
“I’ve got you A-Sang,” Lan Xichen felt tears trail down his face as he held the man he loved as his own brother. His throat ached as he choked on a sob before continuing, “As soon as help is here, I’ll call Mingjue. He loves you so much, A-sang. I love you. You’re so loved. Just hang on a bit longer.”
It seemed like an eternity before he saw the EMTs make their ways through the crowd. Red and blue lights illuminated the alley as sirens overtook the ringing in his ears.
Police officers began the process of crowd control, and Lan Xichen found himself shaking as another sob escaped. Help had arrived and with it, a shred of hope.
Nie Huaisang was still somewhat conscious, but he was fading. When they tried to move him from Xichen's arms, he felt the younger man panic.
“A-Sang, I’m not leaving you, but they need to treat you,” he said softly, begging him to understand.
“No’ leav’?” he mumbled, head lolling in the direction of his voice, eyes unable to open now.
“Not leaving,” he promised. “I’ll be right here. I’m just going to call Mingjue.”
The younger man seemed to settle at that, allowing the EMTs to return to their work. Lan Xichen stepped out of their way, but his eyes remained steady after finding the contact that had gone unused for nearly three years.
“Wha’, A-Huan?” Nie Mingjue mumbled, his voice hoarse from sleep.
“A-Jue,” Xichen said, throat aching as he held back more tears. He inhaled as deeply as he could bear, willing himself to keep it together just a while longer.
“Xichen, what’s wrong? What’s happened? Is it–” He could hear the rustle of sheets as the other man moved. All traces of sleep were gone from his voice.
Lan Xichen breathed again, speaking as plainly as he could manage. “It's A-Sang. He's been hurt. I’m with him. They’re taking him to the hospital now–”
“What? Which hospital?” Nie Mingjue’s voice cut in. He heard a door slam and the faint hum of an ignition.
He turned to the EMT, repeating the question.
“Gusu General,” the man replied as they moved Huaisang onto a waiting stretcher.
“We’re going to Gusu General,” Lan Xichen relayed.
“Xichen, how bad is it?” Nie Mingjue asked.
“I’ll stay with him. I won’t go anywhere until you're here,” Lan Xichen offered. The unspoken truth was louder than the sirens wailing around him.
“I’ll be there as fast as I can. How bad?” Nie Mingjue asked again, engine roaring through the speaker.
“He was talking,” Lan Xichen said. “Are you able to drive?”
“Well I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Nie Mingjue snapped.
“A-Jue–” Lan Xichen shuddered at the familiar name on his tongue. He had lost any right to it. “Mingjue, be safe. You’re of no help to him if you wreck on your way.”
“A-Huan, I can’t–he can’t–” It was clear the words were spoken through clenched teeth as the other man held back tears.
“I know. I know, A-Jue,” he gave in, unable to withhold any possible comfort.
The stretcher was placed on a gurney, and they wheeled Huaisang past the now barricaded crowd, Lan Xichen following closely behind. “We're getting in the ambulance.”
“Tell him–tell him I love him,” Nie Mingjue spoke, voice cracking.
“I already did. Be safe, A-Jue,” Lan Xichen replied, moving toward the waiting vehicle.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Nie Mingjue said in lieu of goodbye, ending the call.
Another EMT blocked his path. “Sir, you can't ride along unless your family.”
“He’s my little brother,” Lan Xichen insisted, jaw setting in challenge. There was no time for debate, not when every minute–every second could be decisive.
The EMT looked doubtful, but didn’t argue. “Fine, get in,” he directed, pointing to the bench running along the side.
He moved quickly, climbing into the back of the vehicle, and buckling a belt around his waist.
Nie Huaisang was still now–far too still, but the steady beep of the monitor mounted across from him offered a sliver of reassurance.
He clung to it.
It was like moving through a heavy fog. One moment he was in the back of the ambulance and the next he was standing at the entrance of the ER as they wheeled Nie Huaisang beyond his reach, still breathing–if only barely.
“Your brother is being taken to surgery.” A woman approached him, drawing him from his stupor, clipboard in hand. “Sir, could you provide his date of birth? Any medications? Any known allergies?”
He blinked rapidly then spoke, voice hoarse, “His birthday is May 20, 1999. He’s allergic to penicillin. I don’t know of any medications, but I'm not certain.”
“Ok, thank you,” she nodded, writing down the provided information. “Please wait here. A doctor will be out to update you as soon as possible. There’s a bathroom just over there should you need it.”
Lan Xichen took one breath, and then another before looking up. The fluorescent lights above him sent a fresh pain through his head before he could turn away. The waiting room wasn’t full, but there were people scattered throughout it. Some were huddled, sharing hushed whispers, while others were wringing their hands in tormented silence.
His body returned to him slowly.
The blood once slick on his hands was now dry, small pieces flaking to the floor beneath him as he curled and uncurled his fingers slowly, studying his movements.
He walked past all of them, finding the bathroom and locking the door behind him.
The face that greeted him in the mirror was startling. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, his hair absent any sense of order, and it seemed some of the blood on his hands also found its way along his jaw, as well as onto his coat and scarf–likely his shirt as well. He was a crime scene. Mingjue couldn’t see him like this.
He turned on the faucet, dialed, and laid his phone on the counter, placing it on speaker for the second time that night.
The call connected, and he didn’t wait for a greeting.
“Wangji–” Lan Xichen said, voice as raw as his throat felt. He held his hand under the water, it stung his skin, and he noticed steam rising, but he couldn’t bring himself to adjust it.
“Ge, now is not a good–” There was a pause and then Lan Wangji continued. “Why are you awake?” As he listened to his brother, he didn't hear any signs of sleep, but rather an unease that mirrored his own.
“Didi, it’s Huaisang. I found him–he’s been stabbed. There was so much blood–”Lan Xichen said. His eyes remained on the fountain of red falling from his hands and disappearing down the drain as he held onto the building ache in them. Xichen felt certain hands would be red too if he cared to look.
“You’re with him?” Lan Wangji said, and he sounded–relieved. He heard whispers on the other end, and a clear, ‘You found him. Where is he?’ from who could only be Wei Wuxian.
It was only then he remembered the pair were roommates.
“Where? Is he–” Lan Wangji began.
“He’s alive. He’s in surgery now,” Lan Xichen answered.
He heard another sigh of relief, and Lan Xichen waited as the message was relayed.
“I’m in the waiting room. I already called Da-ge,” Lan Xichen continued. “Didi, I’m covered in blood he can’t–I can’t see him–” The water was only a faint pink now, and he began to scrub his tender hands, hoping to wash away the remaining stain.
“We’re coming. I’ll bring you clothes. Which hospital?” Lan Wangji said. He could hear the productive ramblings of Wei Wuxian in the background, no doubt packing a bag.
“Gusu General,” he answered, scraping at the remnants of blood under nails using a paper towel with little success.
“We’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Lan Wangji’s voice intruded again.
“Wangji, your condo is at least thirty minutes away even without traffic, don’t risk–”
“I’m not home. We’ll see you soon, Ge.” Lan Wangji explained, ending the call.
Lan Xichen was alone again.
He found an empty corner, and settled in a chair, reviewing his steps so far. Da-ge was on his way, and yesterday that would have been terrifying in its own way, but the world had tilted on its axis, and it didn’t even register now.
Wangji and Wuxian would arrive soon with clothes and join him in waiting.
Huaisang was in surgery now–out of his hands.
The time on his phone caught his attention, 12:43 AM. He would not be going to the office tomorrow morning–probably not in the afternoon either.
Unlocking his phone, he drafted an email.
Uncle,
I won’t be in the office tomorrow. Something has happened; I’ll explain later. My apologies for any inconvenience.
Xichen
He contemplated explaining further, but then he remembered his uncle with a tiny Nie Huaisang, sitting on their porch, and praising the boy’s calligraphy on his freshly painted fan.
His chest ached again. Nie Huaisang had felt so small– fragile as he held him in the alley, but now that he had settled, he also recognized the changes. The man's hair was longer. His jaw was sharper than the last time Lan Xichen had seen him.
When was the last time they were together? Lan Xichen willed himself to remember. It had been at least three years now–before Jin Guangyao, before Nie Mingjue’s contact became a monument, a living memorial in his phone he visited from time to time–mourning his loss.
The grief was self-inflicted, he knew.
If he had been braver, he might have had a chance. But he wasn’t.
He had taken the first appealing distraction he found.
Lan Xichen thought he could keep part of Mingjue’s heart if he was too afraid to ask for it all.
He was proven wrong as Mingjue called less and less. Then not at all.
He had been so scared of losing him. Where had that gotten him?
The automatic doors slid open across the room, and he heard familiar chatter that announced Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s arrival.
“He’s got to be here somewhere, they said this was the emergency waiting room,” Wei Wuxian said, eyes surveying the crowd.
He stood, but didn’t move to greet them. Neither man looked much better than he did. Their eyes were swollen and hair was mussed. Wangji–well, Wangji was wearing what looked to be silk pajama pants with small rabbits under his overcoat.
They came to an abrupt halt in front of him, and Wei Wuxian’s hand lifted to cover his mouth. For the first time since Lan Xichen had known him, he seemed stunned speechless.
Lan Wangji’s eyes widened–a spectacle in its own right.
Wei Wuxian moved first, stepping forward to clutch his shoulder, “Xichen-ge, is that–”
“It’s not mine. The blood,” Lan Xichen answered, and as he continued his hands began to shake.
“There was a knife–he was stabbed. They took him straight to surgery. They haven’t–I don’t know anything–and Da-Ge will be here, and–”
“Xichen-Ge, let’s get you cleaned up, and out of these clothes,” Wei Wuxian interrupted his ramblings, taking his hand. “We’ve brought clothes–their Lan Zhan’s, so they’ll fit. And, we’ve got Huaisang’s clothes, too. For when he wakes up.”
“How do you know–” Xichen started, voice trembling.
“Because he will. He has to,” Wei Wuxian said, voice warm, but firm. “If he doesn’t, I drag him back from the dead myself.”
“Mn,” was Lan Wangji’s only contribution to their exchange.
“Lan Zhan, take your brother. I’ll be here just in case there’s news,” Wei Wuxian seemed to take charge, relieving Xichen if only for a brief moment.
He watched the man take his now empty chair, leg bouncing as his brother took his wrist and led him away.
He went along without a word.
If Wei Wuxian’s rambling was a prelude, the grumblings audible as the doors slid open again were a harbinger.
“Uncle,” Wei Wuxian called, voice barely above a whisper, but still carrying over the oppressive silence.
The older man continued muttering as he approached him, carrying a large bag at a brisk pace only he could achieve while walking.
Wei Wuxian offered a nod in greeting, but he was stopped before he could speak.
“Where is Xichen?” Lan Qiren’s eyes darted to the surrounding chairs, as if his nephew could have been simply overlooked. Then, he placed his bag on the end table beside them.
“Lan Zhan’s helping him get cleaned up. He was covered in blood.” Wei Wuxian said.
“Blood?” Lan Qiren’s eyes widened, face reddening.
“Not his!” Wei Wuxian clarified quickly before adding, “Huaisang– don’t know much. We should probably–”
“Uncle,” Lan Xichen interrupted as he and his brother returned.
Worried eyes found them in an instant.
Lan Xichen would have smiled at the mouthed ‘thank you’ from Wei Wuxian behind his Uncle’s back had it been any other day.
Lan Qiren looked momentarily relieved at seeing them whole, but then his brow furrowed again. “What’s happened to A-Sang?”
“I found him in an alley. He’d been stabbed,” Lan Xichen said, with a troubling ease after multiple repetitions. “Uncle, how are you here?”
“Obviously I got your message.” Lan Qiren said, sitting down in a chair and opening his bag, now reassured his nephews were safe, though the tension remained in his frame.
“You weren’t sleeping?” Xichen questioned, sitting across from him.
“Your messages ring anyway–for emergencies” Lan Qiren explained, lifting out a stack of reusable cups and passing them each one before putting the spares back in the bag.
“But I didn’t say where I was. How did you–?” Xichen pressed.
His Uncle let out a sigh, but he paused his efforts, returning his full attention to his oldest nephew. “You shared your phone’s location when you were convincing me to share mine last October.”
Wei Wuxian let out a chuckle as Lan Wangji’s ears reddened. “Uncle, how often do you check–”
“Enough to know you and Wuxian should stop wasting money paying for two apartments,” Lan Qiren answered, eyebrows raised. “Now, how is A-Sang?”
“No one’s been out yet,” Lan Xichen said. “They took him straight to surgery.”
“Ok,” the older man nodded, then reached back to his bag, revealing a massive thermos. “I’ve brought tea.”
Lan Xichen heard his footfalls before he saw him—heavy and fast, but still familiar as they echoed from the corridor.
As Nie Mingjue rounded the corner, he stopped as if hitting a wall when he saw them.
Then, his eyes locked on Lan Xichen.
“Is he–?” Nie Mingjue asked, voice rough, and barely audible. His hand twitched at his side, but it didn't move further.
“He’s in surgery. They took him straight back when we arrived. They said they would come back with news as soon as possible,” Lan Xichen said, aching to hold him. “Um, I may have lied to the hospital–”
Nie Mingjue’s eyes narrowed at his words.
“They weren’t going to let me in the ambulance, so I said he was my little brother,” Lan Xichen waited, but at the continued silence he added, “Do you want me to leave? If you don’t want to see me–”
“God, I forgot you could be so stupid,” Nie Mingjue scoffed, then arms darted forward pulling Lan Xichen to him, then collapsing on him with his larger frame.
“Ok, I’ll stay,” Lan Xichen said, holding his weight and lifting his hands cautiously, one gripping the taller man’s neck while the other settled on his waist.
“Damn right you will,” Nie Mingjue muttered against his neck, having buried his face there, but the anger in his tone quickly faded to fear. “A-Huan, I can’t–”
“I know. I’m here,” Lan Xichen soothed. “We’re here.”
They didn’t let go until the doctor approached.
“I’m looking for Nie Mingjue,” The doctor said, her expression neutral.
“That’s me,” he stepped forward, hand finding Xichen’s between them.
Lan Qiren joined them, resting a hand on his drawn shoulders.
“Mr. Nie, I’m Dr. Li, one of your brother’s surgeons. Can I speak freely here?” She motioned to the others waiting with him.
At his nod, she continued, “Your brother is still in surgery, but in stable condition. The knife wound resulted in internal bleeding, primarily from a liver laceration. We managed to repair the damage and control the bleeding, but it’s still going to be a couple of hours before he’s out of surgery.”
Nie Mingjue stumbled back a step at her words, and Lan Xichen helped guide him down to the chair behind them.
“He’s going to be ok?” he said.
“His injuries are severe, and his recovery will take time, but the surgery is going well, and that is all very promising. If there are no other complications, I’m cautiously optimistic.”
Nie Mingjue let out a sigh, head falling back into the wall behind him.
“Thank you, Dr. Li,” Lan Xichen nodded in her direction.
“Of course. You’re welcome,” She smiled. “I’m heading back in now, but someone will return with another update once he’s heading to post-op.”
They all found their seats again, Lan Xichen sinking down beside Nie Mingjue, hand resting on his knee as he spoke, “He’s going to be ok.”
Nie Mingjue’s head moved slightly at that, offering a nod of affirmation, but he made no move to speak.
After a few minutes, his head fell to Xichen’s shoulder, and then he stiffened as if realizing his mistake, but he made no move away.
Lan Xichen let out a careful exhale, afraid to disrupt their tenuous cordiality.
Another two hours passed before either of them spoke again.
Several other quiet conversations continued around them. Wei Wuxian was whispering furiously to Lan Wangji, who listened intently and offered the occasional hum of agreement. Lan Qiren was meditating in his seat.
“I was in Qinghe. I was so afraid I wouldn’t get here in time.” Nie Mingjue said, letting out a sigh before lifting his head to meet Lan Xichen’s gaze.
“Qinghe? How did you get so fast?” Lan Xichen asked, thinking he must have heard wrong.
“I took the helicopter," he answered, holding the other man’s stare.
“Mingjue–” Lan Xichen’s eyes widened.
“Don’t,” Nie Mingjue interrupted, “You’d do the same for Wangji.”
“I would,” he admitted.
It was something they had always shared–a fierce protectiveness for their younger brothers.
“Thank you for finding him–getting him here,” Nie Mingjue added.
“What is it Wangji always tells Wuxian—‘No need for thank yous between us.’” Lan Xichen said, smiling.
Nie Mingjue chuckled darkly at that. “Yes, but we’re not Wangji and Wuxian, are we?”
“We could be,” Lan Xichen said, then he froze, eyes widening “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have–”
“You can’t just say that,” Nie Mingjue said, voice hard but with an aching undercurrent evident. “Not now. You chose him.”
“I know,” Xichen conceded, running a hand through his hair.
He could leave at that, he thought. He could say nothing and nothing would change–nothing would change.
He took a deep breath, reaching for any shred of courage in him, “–but not really.”
“Oh?” Nie Mingjue said, arms folding over his chest and brows rising, “because it sure felt like it when I had to watch you with him–him of all people, Xichen.”
“You were too much, A-Jue,” He admitted, shoulders slumped.
Nie Mingjue looked as if he’d been struck, leaning back in his chair–away.
“No, I mean–,” Xichen rubbed his eyes, willing the right words to come forward in his stress-addled mind. “I’m not making any sense.”
“I think that was pretty fucking clear,” Nie Mingjue said lowly, eye hardening further, but still undeniably pained.
“It’s like, you're the Sun. You’re everything. I thought ‘If I tell him I love him, and he leaves–it's over.’ I couldn’t bear it.” Lan Xichen explained, hoping something made sense as the words poured from him, “He was the opposite of everything that makes you so–well you. Someone interesting enough, clever enough–distracting. I was a coward and–. ”
“You love me?” Nie Mingjue stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“I didn’t say–” Lan Xichen started, before stopping, eyes widening again.
“You did say,” Nie Mingjue corrected, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Are you going to try to take that back, too?”
Xichen groaned, head falling into his hands as his elbows rested on his knees, “Do you want me to?”
“I want the truth. For once, please.” Nie Mingjue said, taking the other man’s hands from his face, holding them.
Lan Xichen lifted his head, “I do–love you.”
Looking around them, he felt a sheepish grin spread on his face. “Not that I wanted to be telling you this in a hospital waiting room.”
“Yeah, maybe not the best timing.” Nie Mingjue agreed, letting out a tired laugh.
“When Huaisang is ok, when this night is over,” Lan Xichen said, taking a steadying breath, “I’d like to take you to lunch.”
“Lunch? No,” Nie Mingjue rejected before adding, “No, dinner’s much better.”
“Ok, Dinner,” Lan Xichen grinned lazily, letting his forehead rest on the other man’s shoulder.
Their moment was swiftly interrupted, by a quiet laugh from Wei Wuxian and a ‘Mn’ of approval from Lan Wangji next to them.
He looked up again to find his uncle no longer meditating but watching them intently.
“It’s about time,” Lan Qiren said, seemingly to himself as he poured more tea, then offered it to the others. “I thought I was going to have to get a matchmaker involved.”
Lan Xichen groaned at that, turning to hide his face against Nie Mingjue’s neck. He was jostled by the deep laughter drawn from the other man, and for the first time in recent memory–he leaned in.
Two more hours came and passed before news arrived that Nie Huaisang had been moved to post-op. Nie Mingjue was pulled away to complete some additional forms, before joining his brother to be there when he woke.
With the news that surgery had been successful, and Nie Huaisang was largely out of the woods, Lan Qiren returned home with strict instructions to call him if anything changed or if they needed anything at all.
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji left as well. Visiting hours were over, and they planned to return in a few hours after they resumed.
Lan Xichen knew he should go home and come back in a few hours after some much needed rest. He also knew he wouldn't sleep at all until he saw Nie Huaisang awake and breathing–so he waited.
His mind had drifted back to a less daunting fog, but he was pulled from it by the chime of his phone next to him.
A-Jue
[04:54] Come back?
[04:55] I need to step out to deal with more paperwork
[04:55] A-Sang is asking for you
[04:56] Rm 308
He paused briefly at seeing the familiar name on his screen once more, a tired smile tugging at his lips, but his muscles seemed incapable of forming it as he typed out a quick, ‘on my way.’
Three corridors, and one elevator ride later he found himself lingering in the hallway outside Nie Huaisang’s room, already more at ease just from the sound of his heart monitor beeping.
“Are you coming in, Er-ge, or are you just going to stand out there?” He heard Nie Huaisang call from inside, voice much stronger than he’d last heard it.
He held on to that welcome news as he steeled himself and opened the door.
“So, I didn’t imagine you.” Nie Huaisang smiled weakly from his hospital bed. Looking at his face, Lan Xichen struggled to find skin unmarred by scrapes and bruises. It was painted purple and blue and yellowing at the edges, but he was awake–and alive.
“No, I was there. I’ve been here. A-Sang, I’m so glad you’re ok,” Lan Xichen said, stepping further into the room.
“I am. The doctors say I’ll be able to go home next week if all goes well. Da-ge wants me to stay with him after I’m released,” Nie Huaisang whined. Nie Mingjue became a mother hen when his brother got so much as a cold. After this, he would be unbearable.
“That’s great news. You should. He was so worried. We all were,” Lan Xichen said.
“Honestly, I’m more worried about him,” Nie Huaisang continued, eyes holding a calculating gaze the older man wasn't sure how he was managing.
“What? I don’t–” Lan Xichen started before he was quickly interrupted.
“He told me about your conversation–what you said.” Nie Huaisang’s expression remained carefully neutral. “You broke him, Xichen. And not because you didn’t love him. No, you were just scared.”
“He told you?” Lan Xichen, flinched at the accusation, no matter how true it was.
Nie Huaisang scoffed, eyes rolling, “Please. He didn’t have to. It was clear to anyone with two brain cells who wasn’t so caught up in his own feelings that he missed what was right in front of him.”
“I’m sorry. I was wrong,” Lan Xichen agreed, shuffling in place. “I never wanted to hurt him. Being without him nearly broke me, too. I didn’t realize it until it was too late.”
“I love you, Er-ge. And Da-ge’s still absolutely gone on you. He wants to give you another chance,” Nie Huaisang explained. “But if you hurt him again, I won’t be so forgiving.”
“I won’t,” Lan Xichen quickly promised.
Nie Huaisang’s still swollen eyes narrowed at that.
With a grimace, Lan Xichen added, “And if I do, do your worst. I’ll deserve it,”
The younger man held his stare for some time before nodding, “Good. Now come sit with me.”
His hand fell to his side, palm up and open in invitation. He spoke with a pout, “I need attention. I almost died after all.”
Lan Xichen moved, sliding obediently into the chair at his bedside and taking the waiting hand.
After a few minutes he heard the man’s breath even, sleep claiming him.
Lan Xichen lowered his head beside their clasped hands and let himself rest.