( intent on the dirt. practically rolling in it. you canโt just speak of feelings and stumbling over them and not expect lan wangji to feel at least a little dizzy. he forgets nothing. maybe itโs a curse. sometimes itโs a blessing, and right now, itโs nearly suffocating. he doesnโt belong on that pedestal. not if wei wuxian remains on the ground, and lan wangji stops, turns to fully look at him, and loses himself in a gaze shrouded by similar afflictions. or are they? forsaken envies, untamed. desperate to burst forth.
he doesnโt let them. he wouldnโt know how, a faint question in his eyes as he searches wei wuxianโs, distantly wondering why he sees what he sees. who else but hanguang-jun? you, he wants to say, and itโs right there on the tip of his tongue, sore and warm and ardent where he refuses to blink. wei wuxian tried so hard to show them the way. he died for it, and lan wangji finally breathes, aching everywhere as his gaze drifts away. )
This light is not my own. ( itโs made of a thousand lessons wei wuxian taught him, of years of mourning. itโs made of him, his past, his present, and a future he sometimes dares to touch with the tip of a finger. it twitches now, behind his back, curled around more emptiness, and lan wangji starts walking again, looking straight ahead. )
Forward, then. ( and perhaps there really is no other way. )
no subject
he doesnโt let them. he wouldnโt know how, a faint question in his eyes as he searches wei wuxianโs, distantly wondering why he sees what he sees. who else but hanguang-jun? you, he wants to say, and itโs right there on the tip of his tongue, sore and warm and ardent where he refuses to blink. wei wuxian tried so hard to show them the way. he died for it, and lan wangji finally breathes, aching everywhere as his gaze drifts away. )
This light is not my own. ( itโs made of a thousand lessons wei wuxian taught him, of years of mourning. itโs made of him, his past, his present, and a future he sometimes dares to touch with the tip of a finger. it twitches now, behind his back, curled around more emptiness, and lan wangji starts walking again, looking straight ahead. )
Forward, then. ( and perhaps there really is no other way. )