( time passes, and changes. old pains, new ones. literal lifetimes intertwined, broken, coiled again. lan wangji is never really far from that boy who was once struck by the brightest smile he would ever see. wei wuxian stormed in, a disturbance he couldn’t have known how much he needed, a fascination that both outraged and exhilarated. a mirror. the reflection of lan wangji’s quiet, dormant wishes, a splash of colors in his monochrome life. a taste of something more, and a mind that echoed his own.
when he died, he took everything with him. lan wangji wandered half-empty, though he never wished the ache away. it was well-deserved for one, but beyond that, it was shaped like him, wei ying, the last remnants of a love shattered. of a life interrupted. it’s what wei wuxian’s question reminds of. his expression, too, and lan wangji feels so young all of a sudden, so small. why, he asks, and doesn’t he know? another friend might have answered easily. i’ve missed you. but lan wangji is not that friend, and the words are not enough.
his throat closes. his smile subsides, and the potent growth in his chest swells larger. it’s a little harder to breathe, the air thick between them, the distance too great. but it’s safe. the farther the safer, because any answer he might have holds the risk to corner, to trap, and wei wuxian has been chained much too long to owe lan wangji anything. he just can’t lie. he can’t and he doesn’t want to, a bittersweet tang on his tongue as a wave of melancholy ripples through him, furrows his brows a little crestfallen, vaguely enamored. )
Where else should I be? ( barely louder than a whisper. he feels like he’s fifteen again, and maybe he looks the part too. only this time, his walls don’t reach so high, fractured in too many places. )
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when he died, he took everything with him. lan wangji wandered half-empty, though he never wished the ache away. it was well-deserved for one, but beyond that, it was shaped like him, wei ying, the last remnants of a love shattered. of a life interrupted. it’s what wei wuxian’s question reminds of. his expression, too, and lan wangji feels so young all of a sudden, so small. why, he asks, and doesn’t he know? another friend might have answered easily. i’ve missed you. but lan wangji is not that friend, and the words are not enough.
his throat closes. his smile subsides, and the potent growth in his chest swells larger. it’s a little harder to breathe, the air thick between them, the distance too great. but it’s safe. the farther the safer, because any answer he might have holds the risk to corner, to trap, and wei wuxian has been chained much too long to owe lan wangji anything. he just can’t lie. he can’t and he doesn’t want to, a bittersweet tang on his tongue as a wave of melancholy ripples through him, furrows his brows a little crestfallen, vaguely enamored. )
Where else should I be? ( barely louder than a whisper. he feels like he’s fifteen again, and maybe he looks the part too. only this time, his walls don’t reach so high, fractured in too many places. )