what if you reset me (before it falls apart)

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/24169534.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandoms: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī -
Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Relationship: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian
Characters: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen,
Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Jiang Yanli, Yu Ziyuan, Lan Qiren, Wen
Ning | Wen Qionglin, Wēn Qíng
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Canon
Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, It's all about the
YEARNING, Mental Health Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse,
Childhood Friends, Slow Burn, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a
Happy Ending, Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, in which lan wangji
and wei wuxian are best friends, and both are scared of ruining it with
their feelings, wwx has 0 self-worth, lwj has a lot of ocd tendencies,
Family Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts,
Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Abandoned
Work - Unfinished and Discontinued
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2020-05-13 Updated: 2020-11-26 Words: 18,808 Chapters:
4/?
 what if you reset me (before it falls apart)
by kimkhimhant

Summary

He knows when he’s asking for too much, and this is a thousand times too much, a million
times too much. Anything Lan Zhan gives him is enough, he tells himself, and he already
gives him so much more than he deserves.

Notes

***
this chapter contains brief mentions of abuse, death, and mental illnesses

See the end of the work for more notes

 the wanting comes in waves

It’s 11:08 pm. Wei Wuxian knows that Lan Zhan isn’t supposed to be on his phone after
eleven, an hour after they usually get home from the evening session at their school. He isn’t
supposed to do anything after eleven - he’s supposed to turn off his phone and his bedroom
light and get in bed and not make a single noise. Wei Wuxian knows this, but he sits on the
floor of his closet with his phone clutched in his hand, waiting and hoping for a text back,
feeling like the world is hanging by a thread and will snap and crash down if there’s no
response. He knows he’s being selfish. He almost doesn’t care.

It comes quicker than he thinks it will - mostly because he doesn’t think it’ll come at all. A
simple “mn” in response to his “lan zhan, are you awake?” He lets out a sigh of relief.

Can I call you? he texts.

You don’t have to talk. I know you’re not allowed to talk. I’ll do all the talking.

I mean, maybe. I might not talk either. But can I call you? He really doesn’t expect a yes. He
definitely doesn’t expect for his phone to start ringing, for “ incoming call from Lan Zhan♡”
to flash across his screen. He answers.

“Lan Zhan,” he says on an exhale. A soft whispered “mn” sounds through the speaker. It
feels like finally catching his breath after running too long. It also kind of feels like the thread
snaps, for some reason, like everything comes crashing down at once. It’s a minute before he
manages to climb out of the rubble and find his voice.

“Ah, I don’t even know what to say now,” he laughs. “How are you doing? Wait, I know you
can’t answer, it’s okay. I hope you’re okay. I’m - I’m okay too. I guess I just felt lonely. My
mo-” he stops, corrects himself - he doesn’t have to call her mom when talking to Lan Zhan,
Lan Zhan knows better than anyone. “Madam Yu banished me to my room. She saw my
grade for that test we took yesterday. You know, anything less than an A+ isn’t satisfactory to
her, so she’s pretty pissed about the B. So I’m just hiding out in my closet. I mean, it’s not
like she’s gonna come into my room - she already punished me so she doesn’t care anymore,
so I’m not really hiding . I guess it’s like what cats do. Well, a lot of animals actually. But I
was reading about how cats like small closed spaces where they don’t have to stay alert and
aware of their surroundings - like how they always hide in boxes and shit like that. So I
thought I’d try it out and really it’s quite comforting. I made a bit of a nest and it’s nice - I
think I’ll stay here for a while. But anyway, I was also thinking about how a cat’s purr can be
calming, you know? And I don’t have a cat, so I was trying to think of what else would work,
and that’s why I asked to call you, I guess.” Wei Wuxian stops to catch his breath. “Ah, is that
weird? I hope you don’t find that weird. It’s just that you’re my best friend, and listening to
you breathe seemed like an even better option than a cat’s purr.”

“ Not weird,” Lan Zhan whispers, barely audible. Wei Wuxian finds himself grinning.

“Oh, good, that’s good,” he breathes. “Is it okay if we stay on the phone for a little while? I
don’t really want to be alone. I mean, I’m still alone, but you know what I mean.” His voice
sounds funny to himself - something in the lilt of each syllable that makes him sound
unhinged. He wonders if it’s his imagination. He wonders if Lan Zhan can hear it. But Lan
Zhan is probably used to this side of him, the side of him that he doesn’t really show anyone
else.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees.

“Thanks, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian wraps his comforter around his shoulders and tries to
ignore the dull throb of his cheek. Today’s punishment was one quick slap, hard enough to
hurt, but not hard enough to leave a mark that lasts. It isn’t that bad in the grand scheme of
things. He’d had worse. Plus, at least he has a roof over his head, at least he has a room to
himself, and isn’t in an orphanage full of traumatized and unpredictable kids, or on the streets
like so many teens are when they age out of the system. He’s lucky to have been adopted -
even if the adoption was out of duty, a promise Jiang Fengmian had made to Wei Wuxian’s
biological father when they were friends in college, rather than out of love. Wei Wuxian had
lived in an orphanage for three years after his parents died before Jiang Fengmian finally
convinced Madam Yu to adopt him. He was nine when they begrudgingly brought him home
- although Madam Yu still does her best to make it clear to him that this “home” is not
unconditional, that it is not really his to keep. He isn’t really part of the family - he is a guest
who must earn his permission to stay.

Wei Wuxian met Lan Wangji when the Jiangs moved during his first year of secondary
school. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng transferred into the local school mid-term, and Wei
Wuxian immediately attached himself to Lan Wangji’s side. Perhaps it was because Lan
Wangji was also practically an orphan, and Wei Wuxian felt some kind of kinship - an
unspoken understanding between them. Perhaps it was also because Lan Wangji would let
Wei Wuxian rant and ramble about whatever he wanted without interrupting, without cutting
him off and treating his words like the dirt they are.

He doesn’t really know when their relationship changed from acquaintances to friends. At
first they only interacted during their lunch break. Lan Wangji would take his lunch and
retreat to a bench in a secluded corner of the campus grounds, and Wei Wuxian would trail
after him. Sometimes he had his own food, and other times Lan Wangji would split his lunch
in half so that Wei Wuxian would have something to eat.

In the beginning, Lan Wangji wouldn’t really talk. A lot of their classmates hated that about
him - they’d call him aloof and stuck-up, would say that he acted like no one was worthy of
his attention. But Wei Wuxian knew it wasn’t like that. Lan Wangji just had trouble
verbalizing things, and it took him a while to figure out how to put his thoughts into words,
and even longer to find the courage to speak them. Most people weren’t patient enough to
give him a chance to get that far, but Wei Wuxian didn’t mind - he would wait.

After a year of spending lunches together, Lan Wangji started to open up. It started like this:

“Lan Zhan,” he had said suddenly, while Wei Wuxian sat eating the spare lunch Wangji had
packed. “That was the name my parents gave me. My uncle changed my name when he
adopted me.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian had repeated, smiling at the way it felt as it rolled off his tongue.
“My birth name was Wei Ying,” he confided.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan had said.

“You can call me that from now on, okay?”

“Mn. And you can call me Lan Zhan.” After that, he had told Wei Ying that he wasn’t
allowed to talk much at home - that he was used to being silent and alone. And Wei Ying told
him that he didn’t have to be alone now, and he didn’t have to be silent if he didn’t want to
be.

Wei Wuxian supposes that’s when they stopped being classmates and started being friends.

It’s been 4 years since they met, and they’re in high school now. Wei Wuxian has made a lot
of friends between then and now, but none of those friendships are like what he has with Lan
Wangji. He likes hanging out with Wen Ning - they had also bonded over being orphans, and
there’s a sense of solidarity between the three of them. And he spends a lot of time with Nie
Huaisang, but that’s mostly because he and Jiang Cheng are best friends, and of course he
spends a lot of time with Jiang Cheng, because he’s his brother. But he thinks there’s no one
quite like Lan Wangji - no one he feels so completely at ease with.

Even now, sitting in the dark wrapped in a blanket and simply listening to Lan Wangji
breathe, he feels more relaxed. He sighs.

“You don’t have anything after school tomorrow, right? Since it’s Friday? We should hang
out. I dunno, we can even just chill at the library for a while,” Wei Wuxian says after a few
minutes of silence. He knows Lan Zhan will say yes - they both usually accept any
opportunity they can find to delay going home on the weekends. “Lan Zhan, are you tired?
You can sleep if you want. Just don’t hang up okay?”

“ Mn ,” Lan Zhan hums again. Wei Wuxian can hear the rustle of his bedding through the
speaker. He can picture Lan Zhan curled under the blankets in the dark, and a feeling he
doesn’t know the name of makes itself at home in his chest, warm and unfamiliar. He finds
himself wishing he were there with him. It’s a strange and heavy desire that he forcefully
shoves down. He knows when he’s asking for too much, and this is a thousand times too
much, a million times too much. Anything Lan Zhan gives him is enough, he tells himself,
and Lan Zhan already gives him so much more than he deserves.

Wei Wuxian settles back against the wall of his closet. He’s run out of words to say, so he lets
himself find comfort in the silence, in the soft and steady rhythm of Lan Zhan’s breaths. At
some point, he can hear the change in Lan Zhan’s breathing, the tell-tale sign that the other
has fallen asleep. He moves the phone away from his ear, whispers “Goodnight, Lan Zhan.
See you tomorrow,” and ends the call. That night, he sleeps curled in the cramped nest of his
closet.
***

Jiang Yanli finds Wei Wuxian still nestled in the closet the next morning. She crouches in the
doorway and softly calls his name. Despite the gentleness of her voice, he still startles awake,
hands blocking his face reflexively.

“A-Xian, it’s me,” Yanli says lightly, waiting for him to wake enough to be aware of her, to
put his arms down and look at her, before lightly petting his hair. Wei Wuxian relaxes, says
good morning through a yawn. He feels stiff and sore; his neck aches from sleeping hunched
over. There’s something comforting about the presence of dull pain, so he doesn’t think he
minds.

“What are you doing in here, A-Xian? You have a bed.”

“Mn,” Wei Wuxian agrees, but he doesn’t bother explaining.

“Come on, you need to get ready for school.” She stands and helps him to his feet. “I made
you lunch. I put it in your backpack, okay? And if you get ready quickly enough I’ll buy you
breakfast on the way to school. Mom’s letting me have the car today so I’ll drive you and A-
Cheng.”

“Jie, you’re the best,” Wei Wuxian says with a sleepy smile.

“Xianxian is the best too,” she says sweetly. “I’ll let you get ready.”

Wei Wuxian showers and gets dressed in a hurry, pulling a hoodie on over his uniform before
he grabs his backpack. His phone is almost dead - he never plugged it in last night after
hanging up the call - but he shoves it into his pocket anyway. He’ll just borrow Lan Zhan’s
charger after school.

Jiang Yanli is true to her word, and when they’re halfway to school, she stops at a small
bakery and buys the boys coffee and steamed pork buns. Wei Wuxian thanks her a total of
three times and finishes his bun before they even make it back to the car.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are in different classrooms at school. Their high school always
puts siblings in different classes; when they had told him that on his first day, he had been
surprised he was even considered Jiang Cheng’s sibling. Apparently the school didn’t care
about blood relation as much as Madam Yu did. Wei Wuxian had felt strangely happy that
someone other than himself considered Jiang Cheng and him family, and it eased some of his
frustration at having to separate from the other. The rest of his disappointment had dissipated
as soon as he walked into his classroom and discovered that Lan Zhan had once again been
assigned to the same class as him.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng part in the hallway. Jiang Cheng says a gruff goodbye - voice
still sounding rough with sleep - and walks to meet Huaisang by the door of their classroom
near the end of the hall. Wei Wuxian watches them for half a second before turning and
walking to his own room.

Lan Zhan is sitting at his desk at the front corner of the classroom when Wei Wuxian shows
up. Lan Zhan is always early, and he always watches the door until Wei Wuxian walks in. He
gets anxious when Wei Wuxian is late - routine is important to him, he told Wei Wuxian
once, and a broken routine means that something must be wrong. Usually, Wei Wuxian
doesn’t care so much about routines, but for Lan Zhan’s sake, he always tries to get to school
early too.

Today is no different, and Lan Zhan’s eyes soften when Wei Wuxian saunters up to the desk
beside him and drops heavily into the chair, letting his backpack slide from his shoulder onto
the floor.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian grins. “Did you sleep well last night?” Lan Zhan turns his eyes to
the front of the room.

“Mn,” he answers. “Did you?”

“Thanks to you,” Wei Wuxian tells him. He doesn’t need to clarify - Lan Zhan will know
what he means - that he was wound up tight enough to snap before Lan Zhan called, that he
was able to breathe again, was able to close his eyes without seeing angry faces and raised
fists, after feeling Lan Zhan’s presence through the phone. A lot of things like this can go
unspoken with them. They can understand just by looking at each other. Either way, Wei
Wuxian usually chooses to speak them out loud, and he would have if they weren’t sitting in
a crowded classroom. It’s not that he’s embarrassed to say soft things like this in public, it’s
just that he thinks most people don’t deserve to hear them.

Wei Ying is busy thinking of something else to talk to Lan Zhan about, lips parting to form
words, when the bell rings and the teacher at the front of the classroom clears her throat and
stands up from the desk. Before becoming friends with Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian would have
kept talking anyway. The only reason he doesn’t now is because he knows Lan Zhan won’t
acknowledge his words. Lan Zhan is good with authority figures - he knows how to stay
polite and behave properly. Wei Wuxian thinks that’s one of the main differences between
them. When people try to tell him what to do, Wei Wuxian gets antagonistic. Jiang Cheng
says that Wei Wuxian has a death wish - that his instinct is to piss people off, as if he lives off
the resentment people have for him. Wei Wuxian thinks that’s stupid. Being resented hurts
him as much as it hurts anyone else. He just knows that he deserves it.

But Wei Wuxian can’t stand the thought of being resented by Lan Wangji, so when they’re in
class together, he tries his best to not cause trouble. He thinks if he were in another class he
would not be able to restrain himself. Most of the teachers are glad they’re friends - because
Lan Zhan is good at talking Wei Wuxian down and keeping him on track. Other teachers hate
that they’re friends - they say Wei Wuxian is a bad influence, a bad apple that makes
everything around him go bad too. They’re worried he’ll tarnish Lan Wangji, their perfect
number one ranked student.
Wei Wuxian closes his mouth and looks away from Lan Zhan. He will not tarnish him.

He stands with the other students and bows to the teacher.

***

The end of the school day comes slowly. It feels like years before 4 o’clock finally rolls
around, signaled by the sound of the final bell. Most days classes go until 5, and the students
would return home for dinner if they lived close, or buy food at the cafeteria or a food stall
nearby, and then most of them would return to school at seven for evening sessions. But
today is Friday, and they do not have evening sessions on Fridays. Lan Wangji feels free.

He packs his things into his backpack and stands up, turning to Wei Ying.

“Uncle is away on a business trip,” he says. Wei Ying starts grinning before Wangji even
continues. “We can go to my house instead.” He does not want to go to the library. He
doesn’t think he can take another minute of being in public, surrounded by people and germs
and noises and eyes.

“Let’s get food on the way!” Wei Ying says, shouldering his backpack and grabbing Lan
Zhan’s wrist, pulling him after him out of the room and down the hall. The hallways are
packed with the surge of students all rushing from the classrooms and flooding out into the
schoolyard. Wei Ying knows that Wangji hates crowds, that he needs something to ground
him when he’s surrounded by people, and somewhere in the midst of their friendship, Lan
Wangji discovered that nothing was more grounding than Wei Ying. He had told him this,
awkwardly over text because he didn’t think he’d ever be able to verbalize it. Wei Ying
hadn’t said much in response, but the next day on the subway, he had taken Lan Wangji’s
hand with a smile.

Wei Ying doesn’t let go of Lan Zhan until they’re out of the crowds, on the sidewalk a street
away from school.

Part of Lan Wangji wishes he had kept holding on. He doesn’t like that part of himself - the
part that is always wanting, almost desperately, always craving more than is okay for a boy
like him to crave. He angrily shuts down the thought before it has time to fester.

They stop at Wei Ying’s favorite restaurant, and Lan Wangji buys food for both of them,
because he has a ridiculous excess of inheritance money left behind by his mother, and he
knows that Wei Ying is rarely given his promised allowance. The other boy argues that he
can pay, but when Lan Wangji refuses to budge and scans the payment app on his phone, Wei
Ying just smiles sweetly at him and accepts the bag of food handed to him. Lan Wangji
almost smiles back. He looks away, and counts the steps it takes to reach the subway station.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian both live at the edge of the main city in an upper class suburb.
On the subway, Wei Ying throws an arm around Lan Wangji’s shoulders. Wangji stands with
his eyes closed, focusing on the weight of Wei Ying’s arm, the scent of his laundry detergent.
He doesn’t touch the handle bars. He knows Wei Ying will steady him. He always does.

Wangji is aware that “always” usually ends. He tries not to think about what will happen
when it does - when Wei Ying grows bored, when he finally decides that Wangji cannot keep
up with him, when he is no longer by his side, and Wangji has to sit alone at lunch again, and
take the subway by himself (or beg his brother for rides), and spend weekends at home with
his uncle, bombarded with “sit straight. be quiet. I did not say you could be excused .”

By the time Wangji and Wei Ying reach their final bus stop, Wangji realizes he has been
completely unsuccessful in not thinking about it. He also realizes that Wei Ying is speaking
to him, and he has no idea what about. If he were allowed to curse, he thinks that now would
be a perfect opportunity to curse at himself. But then again, Wei Ying is worth breaking rules
for. You fucking idiot, Wangji, he says to himself. And then he apologizes - and really he
doesn’t know who it is he’s apologizing to, because he’s certain it isn’t himself - and
promises to punish himself for his defiance later.

“But I think it would be nice to have a pet,” Wei Ying is saying when Wangji finally manages
to focus on his words. His arm is still around Wangji’s shoulder even though they’ve stepped
off the bus and are already halfway down the block. Wangji allows himself to smile, just a
little.

“Mn,” he agrees.

“Not a dog, obviously. Fuck no. But maybe a cat or something. Or a bunny! Do you like
bunnies, Lan Zhan? You seem like more of a bunny person than a cat person.”

“Mn, I do,” Lan Zhan admits. Wei Ying leans into him, and Wangji can tell he’s grinning
even without looking.

“Lan Zhan, after highschool, when we both move out, let’s get bunnies, okay? Deal?” Wangji
almost stops breathing at the implication that they will be together, even then. At the
implication that they will be together enough to raise pets with each other. That Wei Ying
thinks this particular always is not going to end anytime soon.

“Okay,” he says.

“Really?” Wei Ying says excitedly. “Do you promise?”

“Mn. Promise,” Lan Wangji says. And he does.

Lan Wangji’s house is quiet when they arrive. It is always quiet, but at least it is a little less
so with Wei Ying around. They slip off their shoes in the entryway, trade them for the
slippers that are neatly arranged on a low shelf.

“Wangji, you’re home?” his brother steps out of the kitchen, smiling when his eyes land on
Wangji and Wei Ying. “Ah, Wei Wuxian! Nice to see you!” He looks between the two, and
gives Wangji a look. Wangji pretends he doesn’t know what the look means.
“Nice to see you too!” Wei Ying says, wearing his usual grin. Xichen watches them for a
moment.

“I will be in my room,” he says simply, before he turns and leaves. Wangji counts the steps to
the kitchen, and Wei Ying bounces and weaves around him like a cat. Or a bunny , he thinks.

They eat their to-go dinner at the kitchen table, and then retreat to Lan Zhan’s bedroom.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the future,” Wei Ying says, flopping heavily onto Lan Zhan’s
bed and staring up at the ceiling. Lan Wangji sets their backpacks side-by-side on the floor
next to his desk and straightens the slippers Wei Ying had kicked off onto the floor. He crawls
to the center of the bed and sits cross-legged, looking at Wei Ying. “You know, like, what’s
gonna happen after high school. Madame Yu says I’m not gonna get into college, because of
my ‘behavioral record.’” he laughs. “She’s probably right. Even if I get all A’s, it doesn’t
really make up for all the other shit. I mean. You’ll get in no problem, anywhere you wanna
go. If you wanna go. I don’t know what I’m gonna do, though. I don’t know what scares me
more - the fact that my life is probably a dead end after this or the fact that it means our lives
might go in different directions.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, either,” Lan Wangji admits. Because he doesn’t. He
knows he should go to college, study something commendable like medicine or law.
Something that makes his uncle proud. Something he feels okay with telling his dad about
when he visits the hospital. He also knows that most of the time he feels like he is falling
from a cliff somewhere in his head, scrambling for control, for solid ground to stand on or
something he can cling to (but he can never catch it in time), and he’s not really sure how to
be a doctor when he doesn’t even know how to save of himself.

Sometimes he wonders if he’s just like his dad. “Crazy, ” people say. “After losing his wife,
he went crazy. Catatonic. Couldn’t even take care of his poor kids.” Lan Wangji thinks he
might be crazy, too, just a different kind.

“If I get into college, I think I want to be a teacher,” Wei Ying says. “I think I could be a
better teacher than a lot of the ones we’ve had.”

“I think you could, too,” Wangji agrees. And then, and he almost swears at himself again for
not acknowledging Wei Ying’s fear sooner, “Even if our lives go in different directions, I will
still be here.”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying laughs. “You can’t say things like that! What is my heart
supposed to do with hope? It’s not good for me!” He rolls onto his side to look at Wangji,
smiling widely, eyes crinkling into crescents. If hope makes him smile like that, Wangji
thinks, then it is him who it is not good for. His heart pounds uncomfortably hard, and his
ears feel warm. He remembers the look Xichen gave him in the hallway. Hope, he thinks, is a
very dangerous thing.

“I am not going anywhere,” is all he says. Wei Ying rolls back onto his back, eyes closed and
mouth grinning.
“Me neither,” he says. The want that Wangji has grown frustratingly familiar with settles in
his stomach, and for once he doesn’t fight it. He lets his gaze trail over Wei Ying, the shape
of him on his back and smiling, and he wants and wants and wants. It is a hot and desperate
feeling, and he wonders how he would have to punish himself if he were to give in to his
impulses, if he were to act unrestrained. He digs his nails into his palms.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says. “Have you ever thought about running away?

“Are you thinking about it?” Wangji asks.

“The Jiang’s would be happier,” Wei Ying says in place of an answer.

“And you?” The heat in his stomach turns painful, and he’s not sure it’s just desire anymore.
It might be something like heartbreak too. “Would Wei Ying be happier?”

Wei Ying just laughs. It’s Lan Wangji’s least favorite of Wei Ying’s many laughs. The short
and hollow one. The one that doesn’t sound very much like a laugh at all. Wangji knows what
it means. And he hates it more than anything.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says again. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“You know you are always welcome here,” Lan Wangji says. It is important to him that Wei
Ying knows that he has a place, that there will always be somewhere, someone , to return to.
A home that is unconditional. It is also important to him that that home is him , but he knows
that is selfish, and it is not his place to decide what or who Wei Ying considers home.

“Lan Wangji, Lan Zhan, you are too good,” Wei Ying says.

This wanting, Wangji realizes, might be something lethal.

 something to believe in
Chapter Summary

His heart is in his throat, and he wonders why good feelings and bad feelings are
sometimes so similar in the way they occupy his body. “I’ve always believed in you.”

Chapter Notes

Cause I was just a kid

And you gave me something
Gave my life a meaning
Yeah you gave me something
Something to believe in

***

this chapter contains brief mentions of self harm, and very vague suicidal thoughts

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Shut up shut up shut up. Wangji blinks, once, twice, thrice, his face tilted toward the hands
clasped in his lap.

His uncle is still talking, “...he’s no good,” he’s saying. “I want you to stop spending so much
time with him. Even his parents have warned me about him.”

It’s stupid - if anyone is no good, he thinks, it’s the Jiangs, not Wei Ying. Wei Ying - Wei
Ying is like fresh mountain air, like sunlight through spring leaves. He is what makes Lan
Wangji feel alive - so what, just what about him is not good? Unless, maybe, Lan Qiren also
thinks that Lan Wangji isn’t supposed to be alive, that perhaps he should have died with his
mom, that anything or anyone that gives him a reason to live is something bad. He knows his
uncle is not really that cruel, he knows he knows he knows . He hates himself for thinking it.

The psychologist at school had told him that these thoughts - intrusive thoughts, she called
them - they often feel real even if they are not. And they pop into your head even if you don’t
mean it. Wangji had only spoken to her once, at Wei Ying’s insistence, sometime last year
when he had had a panic attack during a school assembly and nearly passed out from being
unable to breathe. After speaking with her for a few minutes, she had suggested talking to his
uncle about the thoughts he was having. Frustrated, Wangji had walked out. He hasn’t spoken
to her since.
“Are you even listening to me?” his uncle asks.

“Mn,” Wangji says. He thinks, since it is only half a lie, that maybe he isn’t really breaking
the rules this time. He tells himself that is the case.

“I want you to stay away from him.”

“No,” Lan Wangji answers. This time, he knows he is breaking a rule: “ No talking back to
your elders” and he also knows he will be punished for it, either by his uncle or by himself,
but frankly, he thinks it’s a ridiculous rule, even if it is one he feels frustratingly compelled to
follow. Why are kids not allowed to share what they think and feel? All he does is think and
feel, and his thoughts and feelings are so, so horribly overwhelming, but why is he never
allowed to express any of it?

“ No? ” his uncle demands.

“No,” Wangji repeats. “He is my friend.” He meets Lan Qiren’s eyes in defiance, waiting for
the inevitable fury. They haven’t started even dinner yet, and the food on the table is going
cold, but Wangji doesn’t feel hungry anymore anyway.

“Uncle,” Lan Xichen says, diverting his uncle’s attention. His voice is even and calm, like a
white flag of surrender, to stop the war before it starts. “I’ve never seen Wangji happier than
he is with Wei Wuxian. I think that perhaps Wangji is old enough and smart enough to judge
someone’s character for himself. I trust that Wangji would not spend his time with someone
who’s character is not good.”

Wangji knows that his brother is speaking so that he does not have to, but there is anger
climbing up his throat, and he cannot stop the words it pushes out of his lips.

“You talk about him like he is evil,” he says. “Who are you to say what his character is? Have
you ever given him a chance to speak more than a word to you?”

His uncle and his brother both look at him in surprise. He stares back, fists clenched in the
sleeves of his sweater. He can feel himself shaking.

“Go to your room,” his uncle says. He does not yell. Yelling is not allowed. But fury does not
need volume, and Wangji shrinks away as if he had shouted. He pushes his chair back,
stands, and stiffly walks from the room, counting his steps, one two three, one two three, one
two three until he is safely behind the closed door of his bedroom. He wants to punish
himself, he wants to hurt, he wants, he wants, he wants… Wei Ying.

Wangji grabs his phone from his bedside table and sits down at his desk.

Wei Ying, he texts. The response is almost immediate.

Wei Ying♡: Lan Zhan!! (Wei Ying had added the heart to his contact, and threatened tears if
Wangji didn’t keep it. The threat was entirely unnecessary - Wangji would have kept it
anyway, not that he would admit it.)

Wei Ying♡: you texted me first! :D

Mn. Are you busy?

Wei Ying♡: no, why?

Wei Ying♡: What’s up?

It’s a minute before Wangji can find the courage to respond. Truthfully, he just wants to hear
Wei Ying’s voice. He’s not sure why he feels embarrassed asking, not sure why it feels like
he’s making such huge demands.

Can I call you? he finally hits send. His phone starts ringing barely a second later.

“Lan Zhan, are you okay?”

“Mn.” He doesn’t know what else to say.

“It’s Sunday - Isn’t it family dinner time for you?” Wei Ying asks.

“Mn. Uncle and I fought,” Wangji admits, staring down at his hand. His cuticle is bleeding
where he had been picking at it, he notices. It stings. Not enough.

“Ah,” and then after a pause, “Are you safe?” He doesn’t mean from his uncle. Unlike
Madam Yu, his uncle does not use unnecessary violence - that too is against the rules. But
Lan Wangji knows what Wei Ying is asking, and he considers answering honestly, but he
doesn’t really know how to word it.

“The other day,” he says instead. “You said it helped to talk to me.”

“Lan Zhan,” he says. He thinks, if hugs were a sound, they would sound like the way Wei
Ying says his name then. “You can always call me! You don’t even need to ask first. Call me
whenever and I promise I’ll answer.” There’s a brief silence - Wei Ying giving Lan Wangji
the space to reply if he wants to. When he doesn’t, Wei Ying continues. “ Was it a bad fight?
Do you wanna talk about it?” Lan Wangji absolutely does not want to talk about it.

“I do not,” he says. All he really wants is to listen to Wei Ying talk. He wishes he could just
say that. Wei Ying seems to understand his silence, though, as he always does.

“I decided something today!” he says.

“Hm?” Wangji prompts.

“I’ve decided I’m gonna write a manhua! I was looking at the homework laoshi returned to
us on Friday, and saw that she commented on one of my doodles. She told me off for always
drawing all over my homework, but then at the end of the page, she said that my art is really
good. And I realized that maybe I found something that I’m not bad at, something I could do
with my life. You know, I’ve been panicking so much lately at not having any future,” he
laughs a little. Wangji closes his eyes and slouches back against the back of his chair, just
listening. “But maybe I could have a future doing art?”

“Mn, Wei Ying is very talented,” Wangji says.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan, you really shouldn’t compliment me, I might -” he doesn’t finish his
sentence, and Wangji is left wondering what he was thinking. “ You really think I could do
art? Like for real? As a job?”

“I do.” With his eyes closed, he can see Wei Ying grinning at him. He smiles back to the
empty room.

“Ah, well, anyway, after I finished my homework this afternoon I started working on a story!
I don’t have much so far, just a couple rough sketches of character designs for the two main
characters and a vague plotline. It’s like suddenly I have all these ideas and I don’t know how
to fit them all together, but I think it’s gonna be good. I have a good feeling about it. I’m
really excited, Lan Zhan. I feel like I finally have a future, like I finally have something to
believe in.” There’s a pause, too short for Lan Wangji to say anything, before Wei Ying is
speaking again.

“I mean, I had something to believe in before, too, since I met you. But I think I finally
believe in myself a little.”

“I’m glad,” Wangji says. His heart is in his throat, and he wonders why good feelings and bad
feelings are sometimes so similar in the way they occupy his body. “I’ve always believed in
you.” Wei Ying makes an embarrassed whine.

“I’m making a rule! You’re not allowed to say nice things to me. My ego will get too big! I’ll
think I’m the king of the world! If you keep complimenting me I won’t know how to act!”

Lan Wangji huffs out a quiet laugh, and Wei Ying’s gasp crackles through the speaker.

“Lan Zhan! Did you just laugh at me?” A pause. “No lying!”

“Mn,” Wangji admits.

“Lan Zhan, how could you!”

“I don’t like this rule. Wei Ying doesn’t hear enough good things, and he deserves to hear
more. I will not be following this rule,” he says. Wei Ying laughs - Wangji’s favorite of his
many laughs, quiet and breathy and genuine, and god, Wangji would be willing to speak all
the good words in the world if it means Wei Ying will laugh that laugh for him.

“ Fine,” he says, still laughing. “I’ll require a warning, though, so I can prepare my heart.”

“Mn,” Wangji agrees. “Tell me about your story?”

“Ah, right! So it’s about cultivators - specifically these two friends - I haven’t figured out
their names yet. And I hope you don’t mind, but I kinda imagined them something like you
and me. It wasn’t even intentional. I was just thinking, I want these two characters, who seem
really different on the outside, but totally understand each other, like they’re soulmates. And
then I suddenly realized they’re just like us…” Lan Wangji listens as Wei Ying continues to
describe his two main characters, but his thoughts keep circling back to the word “soulmates”
followed by “they’re just like us” and he thinks his brain is short-circuiting.
Soulmates , he thinks. He knows Wei Ying probably doesn’t mean it in the same way that he
feels it. He knows, to Wei Ying, it is probably just a word. But still, Lan Wangji will hold
onto that word like it is the greatest gift he’s ever received. An acknowledgement that he is
known , that he is no longer the cold and friendless and unknowable kid he thought he’d
always be.

This must be what Wei Ying meant, when he said that ever since they met, he’s had
something to believe in. With sudden clarity, Lan Wangji realizes that it is true for him too.
That ever since Wei Ying forced himself into Wangji’s life - a whirlwind of loud laughs and
big smiles and endless chatter - Wangji had found a reason to keep breathing. At first it had
just been Wei Ying, but he thinks that having a friend like Wei Ying - who constantly praised
him, bragged and boasted about him like he was something good, something beautiful (as
Wei Ying never hesitated to say) - had slowly taught him to value himself, at least a little.

“One of them,” Wei Ying is saying. “Is this pure and righteous cultivator - the prodigy of the
cultivation world. He’s really good - like down to the deepest layers of his heart - he is good
and thoughtful and kind. Quiet and stoic and beautiful. That’s the one like you, obviously. As
I said, I don’t have names yet, but I thought of giving him the title Hanguang-Jun. It seems
fitting. I’ll show you my sketches of him at school tomorrow. I think this is the most beautiful
character I’ve ever drawn.” Wangji smiles a little at that.

If he were brave and and stupid he would respond saying that Hanguang-Jun should not be
the most beautiful, if the other character is based after Wei Ying. But he is neither, so he stays
quiet, too afraid to ever step out of line, too smart to ever say anything that might reveal his
feelings and scare Wei Ying away from him. This way, he thinks, Wei Ying will stay by his
side. He’s not sure if it’s selfish or selfless. If Wei Ying deserves to know that someone loves
him the way that he does, and maybe his heart is necessary collateral damage. Or if he is
making some great sacrifice by never saying a word, never asking for more. It doesn’t really
matter which is the case - it hurts about the same either way.

“Your characters,” he starts. “Will they have a happy ending?”

“I don’t know,” Wei Ying answers after a moment’s silence. “The other one - not Hanguang-
Jun - he doesn’t really seem like the type of character who has a happy ending.” It’s a loaded
answer. Wangji tries not to read into his response, but Wei Ying’s voice is laden with
resignation, and it feels like a final declaration.

“Maybe something will change,” Wangji says. “I know it is your story, but is it too much to
ask for a happy ending?”

“Lan Zhan ah Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying laughs softly. “Since when are you so soft?”

“I don’t want a sad ending. We’ve both seen enough of those,” Wangji says in a whisper.

“It’s just a story.”

“I know.” But it doesn’t feel like it.

“But I’ll try to give them their happy ending. I dunno, maybe at the end they’ll retire to a
farm in the mountains and raise bunnies together, how does that sound?” Wangji can hear
Wei Ying giggling, and his heart clenches, his lips curling up.

“Mn, good,” he answers.

“Haha, Lan Zhan, was that the ending you were hoping for?” Wei Ying asks.

“Mn,” he admits.

“Well I guess I have no choice, then.”

“You’ll write it?”

“Of course! That’s a far way off, though. I want their story to go for a long time before it
ends.”

“Mn, me too,” Wangji agrees. He thinks he can hear Wei Ying’s smile.

They stay on the phone for a long time. At some point, Wei Ying stops talking, and asks
Wangji if he still has to practice guqin - if they can stay on the phone while he does, and he
can just draw, and Wangji can just play, and they can pretend they’re in the same place.
Wangji puts his phone on speaker mode and sets it on his desk, and then retrieves his guqin
and lays it on the surface.

Lan Wangji closes his eyes and plays, imagining Wei Ying sitting beside him, hunched over
the desk, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his lips like it so often does when he’s
focused on drawing. He imagines a world where that is his everyday reality. Him and Wei
Ying. Together. Him and Wei Ying. Away from the people who make them feel suffocated,
who express their anger with sharp words and sharper fists. Him and Wei Ying, comfortable
and happy and alone together. The idea of it, he thinks, sounds prettier than any song he
could ever play.

When you said we’ll raise rabbits together, did you mean it like that? he wants to ask. When
you say I’m like a soulmate, do you mean it like that? When you say I gave you something to
believe in, did you mean it like that? When you tell me not to give you hope, do you mean it
like that? Or am I the one who is stupidly, foolishly hoping for something that isn’t there? You
say these things like they are so easy, like the words are so light and simple. But the way I feel
them is so heavy I think they might bury me.

He does not say any of these things. He does not think there is a world in which he has
permission to. He is afraid that if he did, the weight of them would be too much for Wei
Ying, and he doesn’t want to see him crumble beneath the pressure. He is afraid that if he did,
Wei Ying - good and selfless Wei Ying - would be too good and selfless to say no, even if he
wanted to. He is afraid that if he did, he would lose everything good that he already has.

So just as he always does, he keeps his mouth firmly shut.

***

Wei Wuxian doesn’t sleep that night.

It’s not a big deal - he survives on no sleep quite often. He goes through phases like this.
Where sleeping feels impossible, where he feels wound up, buzzing, like he’s running on a
nearly fatal dose of caffeine, hands shaking and thoughts racing so fast they trip over each
other and become unintelligible.

He likes these phases a whole lot better than the alternative, though - the days when he’s so
tired he can barely move. So he doesn’t really mind how much of a mess he is right now. It’s
fun, really. He feels like a genius, like his whole life is laid out in front of him, and he is
running toward it at full speed, finally, after spending so long stumbling and confused and
lost.

The floor of his bedroom is scattered with papers - half finished drawings and messily written
notes. When Jiang Yanli steps into his room the next morning to wake him for school, he is
sitting cross-legged on his chair, hunched over his desk, tongue between his teeth as he
draws.

“A-Xian, you’re already up?”

“Jie!” Wei Wuxian startles and looks up at her. “Oh, what time is it?”

“It’s six. You need to get ready for school,” she says.

“Ah? Already?” He runs a hand through his hair and stretches out his legs.

“A-Xian, did you get any sleep last night?” Yanli asks, voice gentle with concern. Wei
Wuxian laughs, waving a hand in the air.

“Don’t worry, Jie, I’m not tired, I’ll be fine!”

He arrives at school just barely on time with dark shadows under his eyes and a big grin, and
Wangji greets him with a slow blink and a softly spoken “Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan, sorry I’m late!” he says. He’s not late , but he’s later than he usually is. Late
enough that he knows Lan Zhan must have been starting to get anxious. Wangji gently shakes
his head, dismissing the apology.

“You look tired,” he says.

“Aiya, I’m fine! I’m great!” Wei Wuxian answers, waving his hand and grinning til his eyes
crinkle. The look Wangji gives him is so soft it hurts, and Wei Wuxian has to look away. The
school bell rings just as he goes to sit, and their teacher steps to the front of the room. Wangji
looks away from Wei Wuxian, and leads the class in standing to greet the teacher.

Classes drag on forever, and Wei Wuxian feels so restless he thinks he might burst out of his
skin. He can barely focus - his mind running in circles, cycling through disorganized thoughts
about his story, about Lan Zhan, about the future and the past and Madam Yu and Lan Zhan
Lan Zhan Lan Zhan. Why can’t he stop thinking about Lan Zhan? Is it normal to obsess over
your best friend like this? He’s never had a best friend besides Lan Zhan, so it’s impossible to
know. He thinks about asking Jiang Cheng. Asking him if Huaisang is always on his mind, if
his company feels like it could cure anything. But then again, if it’s not normal, Jiang Cheng
will laugh at him and roll his eyes and call him crazy or something, so maybe not.

When lunchtime comes, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji stay in the classroom as the rest of the
students file out into the halls. Although Wangji often offers to buy them both lunch from the
food stalls like most of the students do, there are days when Jiang Yanli or Lan Xichen make
lunches for their younger siblings so that they don’t have to spend the money (or in Wangji’s
case, so he doesn’t have to be a part of the crowds of loud students). Today, Xichen sent
Wangji to school with lunch (two servings, as he has always done since he learned about
Wangji and Wuxian’s friendship).

“Lan Zhan, are you okay today?” Wei Wuxian asks. Xichen always makes lunch for Wangji
when he’s having a bad day. And after the disastrous family dinner last night, Wei Wuxian
knows that Wangji is probably still on the edge of a meltdown (although his meltdowns are
silent, invisible to anyone other than Xichen and Wuxian).

“Mn,” Lan Wangji answers, setting one of the lunch boxes in front of Wei Wuxian. “You said
you’d show me the drawings.” Topic change. Because they’re at school, Wei Wuxian allows
it, not bothering with his usual line of “You don’t have to always just say you’re fine. There’s
no rule saying you have to pretend to be okay.” Usually, when Wei Wuxian assures him it’s
not against the rules, Wangji will change his answer. But they are at school, and people might
hear, so Wei Wuxian doesn’t press.

“Ah! Right right!” He digs a folder out of his backpack and pulls out a small stack of
drawings, laying them out of their desks. He points to the papers on Wangji’s desk. “These
ones are Hanguang-Jun! What do you think? He’s pretty right? He looks like you!”

“Pretty,” Lan Wangji murmurs, ears red and nose dusted with pink. “Wei Ying did very well.”
His finger trails across one of the drawings as he looks it over. After a few minutes, he turns
his attention to the papers on Wei Wuxian’s desk.

“This is the one like you?” he asks.

“Ah, yeah, does he look like me?” Wei Wuxian grins. Wangji hums thoughtfully and takes
the drawing to look at it closer.

“Hm, you did not make him handsome enough,” he says after a minute. Wei Wuxian blinks,
speechless for a few seconds.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan! We made a rule, remember? No compliments!” he finally manages, his
voice coming out squeaky.

“I did not agree to that. Sorry, forgot the warning.” Wangji smiles at him, so Wei Wuxian
immediately forgives him, because how could he not.
 “Okay, okay, I’ll make some changes, and then I’ll show you again, and you can see if it’s
good then, yeah?”

“Mn,” Wangji answers. He places the two characters side by side and continues to look at
them.

“What do you think, are they good main characters?” Wei Wuxian asks, bouncing his legs as
he sits watching Wangji.

“Mn, I look forward to their story.” I hope they really do get a happy ending , he doesn’t say.
I hope we do, too.

“They’re going to do great things together,” Wei Wuxian says, grinning. And even at the end,
they will be together. Even if we aren’t, they will be.

Chapter End Notes

hi! sorry it took so long to get this chapter up! I really meant to update sooner, but I got
a little overwhelmed with school :(
I hope you enjoy the new chapter!
 make me better
Chapter Summary

I sung you, your twinges

I suffered you, your tattletales
And when you broke sideways
I wanted you, I needed you
Oh-oh, to make me better
Oh-oh, to make me better

And all I wanted was a sliver to call mine

And all I wanted was a shimmer in your shine
To make me bright

Chapter Notes

He wants to tell him to just run away. He wants to tell him that he’ll go with him, that
they can leave and never look back, if that’s what Wei Ying wants, if it’ll keep him safe.
“Text me next time,” he says instead.

this chapter contains abuse and suicidal thoughts

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Wei Wuxian’s good mood lasts a week before he crashes.

It’s family drama, as usual, that makes him plummet, abruptly and violently. It starts with a
single simple word of praise for Wei Wuxian, uttered by Jiang Fengmian. A tiny spark. But of
course, a tiny spark is all that’s needed when every surface of the house, every square inch of
air, is already coated with and soaked in the gasoline of Yu Ziyuan’s anger. It only takes that
single word to catch fire, and everything erupts.

In the following seconds, Wei Wuxian doesn’t even remember what Jiang Fengmian had
complimented him about. It doesn’t matter anyway, of course, because Wei Wuxian knows he
is not deserving of any type of praise. Yu Ziyuan knows that, too. She knows, and she makes
it very clear that she will not tolerate anyone pretending otherwise.

“And what about your son? You do remember that you only have one son, don’t you? Or is
he too much of a disappointment to you, that you must act like someone else’s child is more
worthy of your attention and praise, is that it?” Yu Ziyuan’s voice is loud and sharp as knives,
and Wei Wuxian wants to hide. Leaving the room, however, would only fuel her fury even
more, so he remains standing in the dining room, head down. “Look at me when I’m talking
to you!” Ziyuan shouts at Jiang Fengmian. She points at Jiang Cheng. “This is your son, not
him! Do you hate me so much that you dislike your own son because he has my blood?”

“You are delusional,” Jiang Fengmian replies, exasperated.

“I’m delusional? I’m delusional?! You’re the one who treats some bastard kid like he’s better
than your own son! Please, tell me what’s so good about him?” Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng
both flinch. Although her anger is not aimed at Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian knows her words
hurt him just as much as they hurt him, if not more.

“Ziyuan, must we really do this?” asks Jiang Fengmian. When he fails to give her a proper
answer to her question, Yu Ziyuan turns on Wei Wuxian, grabbing him by the collar of his
shirt.

“Why don’t you tell me, then? What makes you so much better than Jiang Cheng?”

“Nothing,” Wei Wuxian mutters, eyes closed and shoulders raised defensively.

“Are you also incapable of looking at me when I speak to you?” She slaps him hard across
the cheek, the ring on her index finger cutting into his skin. “Look at me and say it again!”

Wei Wuxian squares his shoulders and meets her harsh gaze, his own eyes red and watering.
He tries to keep his breathing steady and slow. He takes too long to speak, and Madam Yu’s
hand collides with his already burning cheek again.

“Answer me!”

“Nothing,” he says again, louder this time. “There is nothing about me that is better than
Jiang Cheng.”

“Did you hear him, Fengmian?” She doesn’t wait for him to acknowledge her question. She
glares at Wei Wuxian, letting go of his shirt with a small shove. “Get out of my sight.”

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng both leave the room quickly at the dismissal, taking off for the
stairs, not wanting to be present for the continued fight between Jiang Fengmian and Yu
Ziyuan.

“Jiang Cheng -” Wei Wuxian says, reaching out for Jiang Cheng’s shoulder when they reach
the second floor. The younger brother shrugs out of his grasp.

“Leave me alone.”

“You know your dad loves you. He’s just taking care of me out of duty, you know that,
right?” Jiang Cheng, don’t let her words get to you. You could never be a disappointment.
You’re a million times better than me, you know that, right?

“I said leave me alone. Fuck off.” JIang Cheng slams his bedroom door shut between them,
leaving Wei Wuxian standing helplessly in the hallway. He bites his lip and goes to his room,
closing the door in an attempt to block out the yelling that floats up from downstairs. He
leaves the light off, the room only dimly illuminated by the evening sunlight that filters
through the blinds on the windows.

It is only six, and Wei Wuxian knows Lan Zhan is probably currently attending his Sunday
night family dinner, so he leaves his phone where it sits charging on his desk and climbs into
bed. He is suddenly exhausted, and thinks the past week of sacrificing sleep in order to draw
has finally caught up with him. He feels like he could sleep for a year and still be too tired to
move when he wakes.

Blinking tears from his eyes, Wei Wuxian pulls his duvet over his head. His own words left a
bitterness in his mouth, the muttered “nothing” tastes like a dark herbal medicine - the kind
that is almost impossible to swallow without gagging. Or perhaps it is a poison - from the
ache in his chest, it feels like maybe it is. It is true though, and he is well aware of that. That
there is nothing good about him. That he is a heavy burden to everyone, and especially to the
Jiangs. That just by living in this house, he is taking more than he should, more than he
deserves. By existing here, he has taken so much from Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli; by
existing here, he has taken the happiness out of this family.

Wei Wuxian’s sleep is plagued by dreams, and he wakes repeatedly, gasping for breath,
curled in on himself, as if he is trying to become so small that he disappears. The dreams are
mostly distorted memories - the years in which he lived in an orphanage in Yiling - cold and
lonely and never quite small enough to avoid the eyes and fists and feet of angry people. He
had been little for his age - an easy target for the orphanage and school bullies. There were
many days when the other children would steal his portions of food. On those days, he’d take
the back alleys home from school, picking through the dumpsters behind restaurants and
cafes for scraps of food until he was chased away by angry store owners or hungry stray
dogs. In his dreams, the dogs seemed to grow bigger and more vicious, jaws filled with sharp
teeth snapping at him - he wakes, a cry caught in his throat, just as the dog’s jaw clamps
around his leg.

Other dreams are of his first year with the Jiangs. Yu Ziyuan was even more vocal with her
hatred then - it seems that she has grown more resigned to his presence with the passage of
time. The first year, every word she spoke to him was laced with venom. Although she had
yet to become violent, the words she spoke were a strong toxin to a kid his age, and Wei
Wuxian likely would have sunk into a fatal depression if it hadn’t been for Jiang Yanli’s
gentle kindness and Jiang Cheng’s smiles and friendship. These dreams, of course, always
steal the sweet moments away from him, and leave Wei Wuxian only with the pain of being
scorned.

By the time morning rolls around, Wei Wuxian’s head is pounding from the desperately held
back tears, and he feels impossibly more exhausted than he had the previous night. He drags
himself out of bed, movements slow and sluggish.

When he arrives at school, Lan Wangji is standing outside of the classroom, staring down the
hall. He takes half a step forward when Wei Wuxian comes into view, eyebrows drawing
together as he approaches. He frowns when he notices the cut and dull bruise on his cheek.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian greets, offering a weak grin.

“Wei Ying,” Wangji responds. “You didn’t text last night.” They always at least text
goodnight, usually keep a steady conversation going all evening until the Lan bedtime.

“Ah, I fell asleep early, sorry!” Wei Wuxian smiles and doesn’t look Wangji in the eyes. “We
should go inside.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees, following Wei Wuxian into the classroom. He knows now is not
the time to ask questions, that he should wait until they are alone at lunch time. But the frown
stays on his face all morning, and he casts distracted glances toward Wei Wuxian repeatedly
throughout their classes, nudging him gently when he starts to doze off.

At lunchtime, they find a quiet corner of the school yard and sit on the steps to eat the
lunches Wangji brought. Wei Wuxian graciously accepts the food Wangji hands him and
starts eating eagerly. Sometimes, Wangji thinks, sometimes Wei Ying eats like a starved
animal, like he is scared this is the last meal he’ll ever have. Lan Wangji vows to make sure
Wei Ying is never without food. He sighs to himself and takes a small first aid kit from his
backpack.

“Lan Zhan, I’m fine, don’t bother,” Wei Wuxian says. Wangji ignores him.

“Hold still,” he says. Wei Wuxian sighs and stops eating. He lets Wangji carefully clean the
dried blood on his cheek and apply ointment and a bandage. With their faces this close,
neither of them dare to breathe. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes - telling himself that he doesn’t
deserve to look so closely, he doesn’t deserve to feel whatever this feeling in his chest is. He
knows he’s probably blushing at the feeling of Wangji’s gentle fingers on his skin, and he
hopes desperately that Wangji doesn’t notice.

With his eyes closed, he misses the rosy shade of Wangji’s ears.

“You should take care of yourself when you get hurt,” Wangji says when he’s done.

“Aiya,” Wei Wuxian grins, opening his eyes just slightly to see Wangji’s face. “I have you to
take care of me, don’t I?”

The question leaves Lan Wangji flustered and speechless. Of course he will not deny Wei
Ying. He wants to say that he will always take care of him. He wants to say that to him, it is
the greatest honor to be the one who is allowed to - expected to - take care of Wei Ying. He
also wants to argue, to give him a lecture on why he needs to take care of himself anyway, to
tell him that his disregard for his own well-being breaks his heart. He doesn’t think he can fit
all the words together properly, doesn’t think he can really convey all the thoughts in his
head.

“Still,” is all he says. Wei Wuxian’s smile shrinks a little, becomes a little more sad, a little
more vulnerable.

“I’ll try, Lan Zhan,” he says.

“What was she mad about?” Wangji asks.

“Aha,” Wei Wuxian laughs dismissively. “It doesn’t really matter, Jiang Fengmian just said
something she didn’t like.”

Lan Wangji frowns. He knows most people do not have the same rules that he lives by, but
what kind of rule says that Wei Ying should be punished for someone else’s words? There is
an anger in his throat that threatens to choke him, and he clenches his fists at his side when he
sees the tired smile on Wei Ying’s lips.

While Lan Wangji generally responds to things with silence, Wei Ying almost always
responds with smiles and laughter. When they first met, Lan Wangji thought it meant he was
always happy, and he couldn’t really understand. It was strange and confusing to him when
Wei Ying laughed at everything, and he had envied his apparent constant joy. But it hadn’t
taken him long to realize that not all smiles and not all laughs were joyful - especially not
with Wei Ying. The smiles that never left his face were a shield and a mask, and Wangji
slowly learned what each one meant.

This smile is one that always makes him ache. It is a smile that weakly tries to lie to him and
say that everything is okay. It is a smile that, by now, Lan Wangji can easily see through.

Wangji closes his eyes and takes three slow breaths. Of course, the anger he feels toward Yu
Ziyuan is a thousand times too big to dispel with a few deep breaths - it always has been,
since the first time Wei Ying came to school bruised and bleeding - but he is not sure if it’s
his place to be angry, if he is allowed to be mad even if Wei Ying is not. He doesn’t know
whether it is better to bury this anger, or if it is better to show Wei Ying that he cares enough
to feel fury when he is hurt. He seems to be similarly conflicted with a lot of his feelings
when it comes to Wei Ying. With this case, he wants to bury it, but Wei Ying seems to see it
anyway.

He opens his eyes when he feels a hand close around his fist.

“Lan Zhan, I’m okay, really,” Wei Ying says gently. “It doesn’t even hurt!”

Lan Wangji looks at him for a moment before averting his gaze.

“Eat your lunch,” he says. It means: let me worry and take care of you, and Wei Wuxian
knows him well enough to understand.

“Mn, thanks for feeding me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian smiles sweetly and leans over to bump
his shoulder against Wangji’s. “Food is the way to a man’s heart, you know.” Wangji looks at
him from the corner of his eye.

“Ridiculous,” he says.

“Haha, everyone knows it's true!” Wei Wuxian teases. “Is that why you always bring me
lunch?” Wangji turns his face away to hide the rosiness that colors his cheeks.

“You would not eat if I didn’t,” he answers. “You need to eat.”

“Yeah, I eat well thanks to you,” Wei Wuxian says. Wangji gives him a small satisfied smile.
“You take very good care of me.” Wei Ying smirks before continuing. “Is that like a kink of
yours? Girls must love that. Your future girlfriend is gonna be so spoiled.” There’s a tinge of
something bitter in his voice, but Lan Wangji doesn’t notice, too focused on the way the
words bury themselves in his chest like a knife. It hurts in a way that it always does when
Wei Wuxian talks about future girlfriends or wives, or teases him about imaginary crushes
involving girls in their class.

“ Wei Ying,” he warns. He feels the impulsive urge to tell him then and there that he never
wants to have a girlfriend at all, that he’d much rather have a boyfriend, that he’d much rather
have him , but the nauseating fear outweighs this urge, just as it always does. He knows that
Wei Ying isn’t homophobic, is actually outspokenly protective when he sees anyone being
teased with homophobic slurs, but he’s still not entirely sure how he would react to him being
gay.

For as much as Wei Wuxian mindlessly flirts with him, moments like these are always a
shockingly cold reminder that he doesn’t actually like him. They crash over him like a bucket
of ice water, dousing all the sparks of hope that Wei Ying unknowingly lights in him.

Wei Wuxian ignores the warning and keeps talking.

“I hope you know that even when you get married, you won’t be able to get rid of me. I’m
always gonna stick around to annoy you.” Lan Wangji wants to say that he never annoys him,
but Wei Wuxian doesn’t give him the chance.

“I’ll probably be single forever haha,” Wei Wuxian continues. “My stunning looks don’t
really make up for everything else about me.” He speaks with laughter in his voice, sharp and
hollow.

“That’s not true,” Lan Wangji says.

“What, you don’t think I’m good looking?” Wei Wuxian teases.

“There’s nothing to make up for,” Wangji says slowly, avoiding the question. “Everything
else about you - it’s all good.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t meet his eyes. He stares down at the empty lunch box in his lap instead.

“Aiya, we all know that’s not true, haha.”

“You’re wrong,” Lan Wangji tells him.

“Heh, you’re the only one who thinks that.” Wei Wuxian tilts his head to the side, so that he’s
facing Wangji again, offers a wide grin, eyes pressed closed. “Everything about you is good,
too. The best.” He tips to the side until his head bumps against Lan Wangji’s shoulder, and he
lets out a soft hum.

“I’m so tired, Lan Zhan.”

“We have time before we have to go back to class. You can rest a bit,” Wangji answers. They
both know that the “tired” that Wei Wuxian means is a kind of tired that resting won’t ease,
but neither of them say it. And they both notice the moisture that collects on Wei Wuxian’s
eyelashes as he slumps down to rest his head on Wangji’s thigh, but neither of them mention
it either.

***

The rain comes in the afternoon, a crack of thunder announcing its arrival. It comes down
heavily, a steady drone of white noise as it hits the windows and roof and the pavement
outside the school, interrupted occasionally by the low growl of thunder. By dinner time, the
world is dark and deeply saturated.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian huddle under an umbrella and rush out onto the street, greeted
by the scent of wet earth. They go to a nearby convenience store and eat instant noodles in
the shelter of the small shop, the steam from their bowls fogging the window where they sit
at the counter.

Most of the students return to school for evening session early, not wanting to spend any
more time out in the cold than they need to. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are among the first
back in the classroom.

Wei Wuxian spends most of evening session dozing at his desk, and since the teacher doesn’t
say anything, Wangji just drapes his jacket over his shoulders and lets him sleep. When the
bell finally signals the end of their long day, Wei Wuxian lifts his head and blinks, bleary
eyed, at Wangji for a long minute before moving.

“It’s time to go?” he asks.

“Mn.”

“You let me sleep.”

“You were tired,” Wangji says.

“Yeah.” Wei Wuxian touches the jacket hanging on his shoulders and then reluctantly tugs it
off and passes it over to Lan Wangji. “Thank you,” he says, smiling sleepily. “Let’s go.”

Since the Jiang’s lived further away, Wei Wuxian walks Lan Wangji home from the bus stop
and then walks the rest of the way on his own.

The sound of Madam Yu’s voice yelling, loud and sharp, hits his ears as soon as he unlocks
the front door. He feels a surge of nausea, an anxious flip of his stomach. If she’s already
angry, she’ll really lose her mind when she sees his face. He wonders what excuse she would
come up with as reason to punish him. Wonders, briefly, if there’s something more painful
than her hands within reaching distance.

It isn’t a conscious decision, in the end - but he finds himself pulling the door closed and
backing away, nearly tripping over his feet as he turns and takes off back down the street.
There is a slight lull in the storm, the rain only a light mist, but he still takes shelter at a
nearby bus stop. It’s late enough that there is no one else waiting there, so he sits on the small
bench and hugs his backpack to his chest.

It’s cold and dark. He doesn’t really want to be alone, but it’s not like he can go to Lan Zhan.
He can’t even call him, doesn’t want to make him worry. After a few minutes of hesitation,
he texts Wen Ning.

A-Ning, are you up?

Wen Ning: Xian-ge! Hello!

I’m bored, can I call you?

Wen Ning: sure!

Wen Ning answers after the first ring.

“Hey, how have you been recently?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“I’m okay! I was sick again for a while, and granny’s in the hospital again, so I switched to
online school to rest at home and take care of A-Yuan, but it’s not the worst thing. I didn’t
have any friends like you and Wangji-ge at the school here, anyway.”

“Are you feeling better now? And how’s life in Yiling? It’s still weird not seeing you in
school.”

“Yeah. I do miss you guys. But it’s good here. Jie and I are managing alright. We can’t afford
much, and jiejie is really busy with med school, but it’s a lot better than living with uncle.”

“Yeah, I bet. I can’t wait to get out of this house, haha.”

“You know, if it ever gets too bad, you can come here. Jie and I owe you a lot. Our flat is
pretty small, but we can always fit one more person. And I bet A-Yuan would be happy to see
you again - he seemed to really like you that time he met you.”

“Haha, thanks, A-Ning. I miss you guys. Hey, tell Qing-jie and A-Yuan I said hi! I’ll let you
sleep now.”

“En, I will. Goodnight, Xian-ge!”

Listening to his friend’s voice was only half as comforting as listening to Lan Zhan’s, but he
supposed it’ll have to do. Wei Wuxian shivers - wishes he had more than just his uniform and
his hoodie. Although the bus stop mostly protects him from the rain, big gusts of wind blow a
misty spray at him every few minutes. At least the shock of it keeps him from falling asleep.

It’s a long night. Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Wei Wuxian gets up and walks
the neighborhood, desperately trying to keep himself awake. By the time the sun approaches
the horizon and turns the edges of the sky soft peachy grey instead of black, Wei Wuxians
body feels heavy with both exhaustion and rain water, damp down to his bones.
The rain finally stops when he’s on his way to school, but it doesn’t matter at that point.

When he gets to school, it is still empty and quiet, and a teacher raises their eyebrow at him
as they pass each other in the hallway. Wei Wuxian ducks his head in a half-hearted bow and
hurries into his classroom.

The warmth of the school isn’t enough to rid his body of the chill of spending a night in the
rain, but it’s enough to lull him into a doze where he sits slumped over his desk.

“Wei Ying.”

“Hm.”

“Wei Ying, wake up.”

Wei Wuxian groans and cracks open an eye.

“Lan Zhan?”

“Class is about to start,” Lan Wangji says quietly, frowning down at him. “What happened?
Did you not go home last night?”

Wei Wuxian finally lifts his head, just opening his mouth to give an explanation when the
school bell rings. He smiles sheepishly at Wangji and turns to greet their teacher, shamefully
grateful for the excuse to not talk about it.

By the end of second period, the chill still hasn’t left - has only gotten worse. Wei Wuxian is
hunched in his chair, shoulders drawn up, eyelids heavy. They have a short break between
second and third, and Lan Wangji turns in his seat to look at Wei Wuxian.

“Wei Ying, you look unwell,” he says, eyebrows drawn together with worry. He holds out his
coat. “Your hoodie is damp. Wear this instead.”

“I’m fine, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, exhaustion slurring his speech, but he changes into
the coat anyway. Lan Wangji continues to frown, lifting his hand to gently press the backs of
his fingers against Wei Wuxian’s forehead.

“You’re ill, Wei Ying. You should go home.”

“Don’t wanna. ‘M fine.”

“We’ll go to my house, then.”

Wei Wuxian looks up, eyes widening. “You’ll get in trouble for leaving school,” he protests.

“It’ll be okay. I’ll have brother tell uncle I’m sick,” Lan Wangji says, packing their school
supplies away and shouldering both of their backpacks. Wei Wuxian continues to hesitate for
a moment. “We should go before class starts.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“I said it is. I don’t lie,” Lan Wangji tells him, tugging him to his feet and guiding him out of
the classroom, one arm protectively wrapped around his shoulders.

“You just said you’re going to lie to your uncle,” Wei Wuxian points out. He leans against
Wangji and smiles, anyway.

“That’s different. I don’t lie to you,” Lan Wangji says. Wei Wuxian laughs a little, but it
dissolves into a wheezy cough.

“Aiya, you’re too much,” he says when he finally catches his breath. The two of them slip out
of the school and walk out to the edge of the road.

“Mn, I know.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Wei Wuxian whines, nudging his head against Wangji’s shoulder.
“You know I don’t mean it in a bad way. You’re the best kind of too much.” Wangji rolls his
eyes and doesn’t answer, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips as he waves down a didi.

“If you didn’t want to go home last night, you should have told me,” he says when they’re
sitting in the back seat of the car, halfway back to Wangji’s house. The moment they had
gotten into the car, Wei Wuxian had tipped sideways into Wangji’s lap, and Wangji’s hand
had moved instinctively to gently stroke his hair.

“I did go. But I got to the door and heard Madam Yu yelling, and I just really wasn’t in the
mood.”

Is anyone ever in the mood to be beaten? Wangji wonders. But then he shakes his head at
himself, suddenly feeling like he’s a little sick, too. Because he knows Wei Ying, and he
knows himself, and people like them think they deserve to be hurt. He wonders if most days,
when Wei Ying walks through that door - if most days, when Wei Ying makes the decision to
return to that house - if it is because he thinks he deserves it. The thought makes him queasy.
He wants to tell him to just run away. He wants to tell him that he’ll go with him, that they
can leave and never look back, if that’s what Wei Ying wants, if it’ll keep him safe.

“Text me next time,” he says instead, because Wei Ying is not in the condition to think about
running away. “You shouldn’t stay out in the rain. I would have snuck you in.”

“I know you would,” Wei Wuxian mumbles in response. His breath is hot on Lan Wangji’s
thigh when he speaks, seeping through the fabric of his pants, and Wangji has to remove the
hand from his hair for a moment so he doesn’t accidentally pull it. He stares pointedly out the
window and doesn’t respond, because he knows Wei Ying’s words are only an
acknowledgement and nowhere near and agreement. It doesn’t hurt, really. At least not much.
Wei Wuxian is never one to ask for help, and just because it is Wangji doesn’t mean it would
be any different. But he still wishes that Wei Ying would trust him enough to allow himself
the vulnerability of asking for help, at least with him. It doesn’t matter. Lan Wangji will
always make sure to show that he is willing, to show that if Wei Ying ever did ask for help,
he would give it without hesitation.
The drive across town goes quickly - it is after the morning rush hour and before the lunch
rush, so the streets are considerably less crowded with cars than they often are. Despite how
short it is, Wei Wuxian’s condition manages to get even worse between the time they leave
the school and the time the car stops in front of Lan Wangji’s house. He is half delirious as
Wangji drags him out of the car and through the front door, and his legs give out as soon as
they’ve reached the top of the stairs.

Lan Wangji carries him the rest of the way to his bedroom, ignoring his (very weak) protests,
and deposits him on the desk chair, before turning to his dresser to find warmer and drier
clothes for him to change into. He sets the clothes on the bed and goes to leave the room,
pausing in the doorway when Wei Wuxian makes a strange strangled whine.

“Lan Zhan , where are you going? Don’t leave me alone.”

“To make tea. I will only be gone a minute.” He pretends not to see Wei Wuxian’s pout,
looking instead at the pile of clothes on the bed. “You should change.”

When he returns with a tray of tea and water, an exhausted looking Wei Wuxian is sitting on
the edge of the bed wearing the clothes he had left and Wangji’s favorite oversized hoodie -
soft and pale blue, with a small cream colored cloud stitched onto the chest. It looks
especially big on someone as thin and lanky as Wei Wuxian. He disappears in it, only the tips
of his fingers peeking out of the sleeves, even with the way the fabric is bunched up around
his forearms. The sight makes Lan Wangji’s heart stutter, makes him nearly trip and spill the
tea. He has to stop walking for half a second and collect himself. Now is really not the time
to do this - this whole being so completely and pathetically in love thing - because Wei Ying
is ill , and pining right now really doesn’t seem appropriate. He takes a steadying breath and
walks over to set the tray on his bedside table, holding the mug of tea out to Wei Wuxian.

“Is this your gross medicinal stuff?” he asks, voice rough and scratchy. It sounds like his
morning voice, and Lan Wangji really wishes his brain hadn’t made that connection, because
his morning voice is inarguably attractive, and for goodness sake, Wei Ying is ill.

“It’s good for you. I even added honey to make it taste better,” Wangji tells him. Wei Wuxian
smiles a little and cups the mug in his hands.

“You’re so good to me, Lan Zhan,” he murmurs before taking a sip.

He falls asleep soon after finishing the tea. Curled on his side facing Wangji, trailing off mid-
sentence, a hand grasping the sleeve of Wangji’s uniform to stop him from leaving. It works
for a while - longer than Wangji would like to admit - before Wangji carefully extricates
himself from his grip so that he can text Xichen explaining the situation and change out of his
school uniform.

He sits quietly beside him on the bed and reads, hoping that with some rest, Wei Ying will
start to feel better. After an hour, though, it becomes clear that the fever is only rising, his
face becoming pale and his hair sticking damply to his forehead. Whimpering softly, he
blinks his eyes open and rolls onto his side, pressing his forehead against Wangji’s thigh.

“Wei Ying?”
“Mm. Cold,” he mumbles, shivering slightly. Wangji tugs the blankets a little higher, tucking
them around Wei Ying’s chin.

“Do you need another blanket?” he asks.

“No -” he shakes his head a little, his nose rubbing the soft fabric of Wangji’s pants. “Just
you. Just need you. Always you, only you.” He presses himself more closely against Wangji’s
outstretched leg, and Wangji huffs - something between disbelief and nervousness. Wei Ying
must be delirious, saying things like this. Of course that’s all it is - a feverish attempt at a
joke. He tells himself that his heart is only pounding because he’s worried, and for no other
reason.

“I am not a blanket,” Wangji tells Wei Ying.

“You’re warm,” Wei Ying says simply. Wangji sighs and lets his hand fall to Wei Ying’s
shoulder, rubbing it gently over the blankets, hoping to offer at least a little more warmth.

“Lan Zhan.”

“Hm?”

“You’re my favorite person, did you know?” His voice is muffled against Wangji’s leg, and
for a moment he second guesses whether he heard correctly. “You don’t look at me like
everyone else does. Everyone - everyone looks at me like there’s something wrong with me,
like I’m a monster or something. Like they want me to shut up and disappear. You don’t do
that. I like the way you look at me.”

Lan Wangji’s hand stills for a moment, and he takes a steadying breath to stop himself from
shaking before he continues to rub light circles into Wei Ying’s back.

His phone vibrates, rattling against the wood of his bedside table, and he reaches his other
hand out to grab it and read the text.

“Brother is returning with medicine,” he says. Wei Wuxian doesn’t respond, and Wangji
looks down to find him falling back into sleep, eyelashes fluttering as he sighs. Wei Ying’s
words are still ringing in his ears, clear and loud as if they hadn’t been muffled at all. They
fill his head and chest and make themselves at home, and he wishes he had replied sooner.

“...I never want you to shut up or disappear,” He says, even though he knows Wei Ying won’t
hear him now. He wonders if he’ll even remember this conversation at all by tomorrow, or if
it’ll fade away when the fever does. “I like to look at you. I like the way you look at me too.”

His words are met with silence, but the quiet has never bothered him anyway.

When Xichen arrives, he finds his brother sitting motionless on the bed, Wei Wuxian curled
under the blankets with his head pillowed on Wangji’s lap. Wangji looks up when the
bedroom door opens, and he knows it’s no use trying to hide the feelings that are likely
clearly visible on his face - his brother knows him far too well for that. He is probably a
picture of pining - all soft and worried and disordered. That’s how he feels, at least, and
Xichen has a knack for reading his mind with a single glance at his face.

Xichen only smiles calmly and brings the pharmacy bag over, setting it on the bedside table
next to Wangji’s phone.

“I told uncle that you’re ill and home from school, and to let you rest and not bother you. He
has a meeting with the board tonight anyway, so he likely won’t be home until late,” Xichen
says, his voice even and quiet.

“Mn, thank you,” Wangji answers, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. Xichen looks
the two of them over again before turning to leave, pausing in the doorway on his way out.

“Take care of yourself, too,” he says. “Make sure you eat. I have to go back to the university
soon for my next class, so I’ll be gone most of the afternoon, but text me if you need
anything.”

“Mn.”

***

Lan Wangji wakes Wei Wuxian again soon after Xichen leaves, gently urging him to sit up to
take the medicine. Wei Wuxian begrudgingly obeys, making a show of gagging at the taste, if
only to see the exasperated amusement on Wangji’s face. He smiles with satisfaction when he
sees it.

Wei Wuxian stays awake for some time after that, lounging drowsily on the bed while Lan
Wangji practices his guqin to pass time. Even awake, his mind is too foggy to coherently
string words together, so he allows himself to lay in silence and listen to Wangji’s mellow
music. He falls asleep again mid-afternoon, and Wangji leaves him to rest in the quiet room,
retreating to the kitchen to make soup and more tea. After the soup has simmered for a while,
Wangji packs it up and brings it back to his bedroom. He props up the tray into a makeshift
table on the floor and walks over to the bed.

“Wei Ying, wake up, you should eat a little,” Wangji calls softly, brushing the damp hair out
of Wei Ying’s eyes with his fingertips. Wei Wuxian groans and turns to bury his face in the
pillow, muttering a muffled “not hungry.”

“You need to eat. Just a little.”

It only takes a little coaxing until he’s sitting on the floor wrapped in Wangji’s hoodie and a
spare blanket that Wangji finds in his closet. He still looks half-asleep as he carefully lifts the
spoon to his mouth, and Wangji finds himself smiling a little at the image.

Selfishly, there is another thought, another feeling, alongside his worry for Wei Ying - a small
and smug satisfaction that he gets to be the one taking care of him, that he is the only one to
see Wei Ying when he is anything less than loud and shining. It is greedy and foolish, but he
wants to always be the one, the only one. He does not want anyone else to be in this place - to
dry the cold sweat from his forehead, to cook for him, to hold him through the fever dreams.
“You can sleep here, tonight,” he says. “Wait to face her until you are well.”

Wei Ying doesn’t argue, smiling softly over the soup bowl he is holding.

“Thanks, Lan Zhan. I’ll stay out of your way.”

“There’s no need. You are never in my way.”

He does stay the night, and he stays the next day, too - too ill to go to school. Wangji stays
with him - doesn’t leave his side except to shower and to prepare tea and food, although Wei
Wuxian’s fever worsens, and he doesn’t eat much anyway.

He sleeps most of the day, occasionally mumbling half-complete thoughts, eyes darting back
and forth beneath his eyelids, before trailing off and falling silent.

“Sometimes I dream that - that…” He blinks, walking the edge between sleep and
consciousness. It is midday, and Wangji sits beside him, holding a damp cloth to his
forehead.

“What do you dream?” he asks, though he knows Wei Ying has likely lost his train of
thought.

“I got sick once... like a year before I met you. Really sick,” he says, seeming to wake up a
little more. He leans into Wangji’s touch. “Probably should have, uh, gone to the hospital or
whatever. Most of that month is a fog. Sometimes it's hard to…” he blinks again, and then
lets his eyes fall closed. “To know what parts of it were real and what parts I just dreamt.”

“Hm,” Wangji acknowledges, when Wei Ying is silent for so long it seems like his story is
finished.

“She said, it wasn’t worth taking me to the doctor. Said maybe I’d die in my sleep and then,
then they wouldn’t have to bother with me anymore anyway. Like it’d be doing her a favor.”

“Wei Ying…” His body feels like it’s turned to ice, and he finds himself shifting closer to
Wei Ying, seeking his warmth.

“I used to tell myself it must have just been a dream.”

Maybe it was, Wangji wants to say. But he knows Madam Yu isn’t past saying things like
that. He knows she probably says things like that many times when Wei Ying isn’t too sick to
really hear.

“Sometimes I dream that I do. That I get so sick I don’t wake up.” Half asleep, the words
come out flat and even, making him sound bored and unaffected. Still, Wangji knows better.
He sneaks his arm under Wei Ying’s neck, hand curling around his shoulder and tugging him
closer, just a bit. Wei Ying turns toward him, until his head is resting against Wangji’s
shoulder.

“Sometimes I want to.”

 Wangji feels the ice of his body crack, shatter as if hit with an iron hammer. He hates it,
doesn’t want to fall apart in front of Wei Ying, not like this, not when Wei Ying is the one in
pain. He wonders how he even has a heart anymore, after all the times it breaks upon seeing
Wei Ying hurt, upon hearing Wei Ying say things like this.

Wangji doesn’t say, sometimes I want to, too.

Wangji does say, “You’re not allowed to. You must always wake up.” And because that
doesn’t feel like enough, “ I need you to always wake up.”

“I know, Lan Zhan, I will,” Wei Ying murmurs, barely there, before he drifts back to sleep.

Chapter End Notes

sorry for the long wait with this chapter! I meant to update like a week ago but my
internet hasn't been working :(( anyway

Thank you so much for reading !

And a special thank you to wangxian+fan - thank you for being a part of this fandom,
and thank you for always supporting fic writers
 the thunder breaks when I open my mouth
Chapter Summary

When they see each other at school, Wei Wuxian is always laughing, always grinning, as
if he thinks that the dark rings under his eyes will become invisible if he’s squinting with
a smile. He doesn’t greet Jiang Cheng when they pass in the hallways, and Jiang Cheng
strides past with a frown on his face. Wei Wuxian carefully avoids all mentions of home,
and Wangji doesn’t ask - selfishly scared to see his happy facade crack.

Until it cracks.

Chapter Notes

slight tw for drinking, depression and abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

I’m only honest when it rains

If i time it right the thunder breaks

When I open my mouth

I wanna tell you but I don’t know how

I’m only honest when it rains

An open book with a torn out page

And my ink’s run out

Jiang Yanli says that kindness is a right and that everyone deserves it, but Wei Wuxian knows
that it has to be earned, and that he’s a long long way from earning it. He thinks he might
never get there, really. When he thinks about his jiejie's words, he knows she means people
like Lan Zhan and jie and Jiang Cheng, like Wen Ning and Wen Qing, not people like him.

So it doesn’t surprise him, and it doesn’t bother him - really, it doesn’t - when he returns to
the Jiang’s house after 4 days, still feeling heavy with the last remnants of fever, and Madam
Yu greets him with a bitter frown in the entryway.
“Oh, you’re back,” she says. She says the words how someone would stab with a knife -
scathing and cold - but there’s something comforting about the sting, something about it that
makes Wei Wuxian think, yeah, I’m home. “I was starting to hope you’d finally decided to
disappear.”

I kind of hoped I would, too, Wei Wuxian thinks . But he doesn’t respond - he knows Madam
Yu doesn’t really expect him to. He just slips off his shoes and bows his head and walks past
her into the living room. Madam Yu rolls her eyes and stalks off to the kitchen.

“A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli stands up from the couch suddenly upon seeing him. He didn’t expect
to see her. She only really comes home on weekday mornings, to borrow one of the cars, or
on Sundays, for the occasional family dinner. It’s a Friday evening, isn’t it?

“Oh, jie!” Wei Wuxian grins at her, feeling a little dishonest as he does so. “I didn’t know you
were here. Is there a special occasion?”

“A special… A-Xian.” Jiang Yanli frowns. “A-Cheng has been texting me. He said you
haven’t been home in days, and he hasn’t seen you at school, and he was getting so worried.”

“Jie!” Jiang Cheng whines from the couch, annoyed at being exposed for caring. He doesn’t
look at Wei Wuxian.

“Where’s your phone? We’ve called and texted so many times! We didn’t know what had
happened to you,” Jiang Yanli admonishes.

“Sorry, Jie, I forgot to charge it…”

“Where have you been? You look exhausted. Are you okay?”

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Wei Wuxian says, guilt settling heavy in his stomach. “I got a
little sick, but I’m okay! Lan Zhan was taking care of me.”

“Oh? I’m glad you have a friend like him.” Jiang Yanli steps closer, lifts her hand to his
forehead. “You’re feeling better now? Why don’t you go rest? Since I’m here, I’ll make you
your favorite soup before I leave.”

“You don’t have to, jiejie, I know you’re busy,” Wei Wuxian tells her, smiling sweetly.

“Nonsense, I’m never too busy to take care of my brothers!”

Sometimes, Wei Wuxian feels overwhelmed and baffled by how much Jiang Yanli and Jiang
Cheng seem to care about him, how often they say they love him, even if not in those words.
Sometimes, it just hurts - to know that they love him when all he does is make their lives
miserable.

Maybe it’s just because he still feels so sick and tired, but the gentle adoration in Jiang
Yanli’s expression makes his eyes sting and his hands shake. He forces himself to keep
smiling.
“I’ll just go rest for a bit, then,” he says, before hurrying from the room, grateful for an
excuse to run from the eyes of his siblings.

In the shelter of his own room, he collapses onto his bed. It strikes him, rather suddenly, that
being back at the Jiang’s house means sleeping alone again, and he had gotten kind of used to
having Lan Zhan next to him. Thinking about it makes his face feel warm, and once again,
that strange yet increasingly familiar feeling of desire, of wanting something more - though
he isn’t sure what more is - makes itself at home in his chest.

***

The months flow by in a similar fashion and for a while life is a monotonous pattern of
school and studying, tense family dinners and venomous words - occasionally accompanied
by bleeding palms and wrists, bruised cheeks and split lips. It is all made bearable by the
lively cadence of Wei Wuxian’s voice, sometimes in the room with Wangji, sometimes
melded with static over the phone in the evenings, easing the anxiety and anger until his
hands unclench, until the urge to see blood slowly dissipates. It is made bearable by Lan
Wangji’s careful hands tending to Wei Wuxian’s injuries, the sound of his breathing over the
phone late at night when the shelter of his closet isn’t quite comforting enough.

Wei Wuxian rightfully takes Wangji’s lingering gazes as silent permission to be more
generous with his touches. After the week spent sick in Wangji’s room, long hours spent
resting in Wangji’s lap - thin fingers combing through his hair - casual touching no longer
feels like such a forbidden thing. They don’t talk about it - about how much time they spend
leaning into each other, how much time they spend curled in each other’s arms in Wangji’s
room during the weekends. They don’t talk about the tenderness that leaps across the thin line
between friendliness and something else entirely.

Wei Wuxian knows they should talk about it. He realizes, one Friday night as he lies in
Wangji’s bed, ankle hooked over Wangji’s shin and arm draped across his waist as the other
boy sleeps, that he is likely taking too much. That somewhere along the way, he probably
started assuming that Lan Zhan was offering more than he really is. That without thinking, he
had started to take and take and take without stopping to ask if it is really okay to sleep so
close, with their limbs tangled together, or if it is really okay to take up so much in his
bedroom, to make it into something like a second home. Or really, his only home, maybe,
since the Jiang’s house never was much of one.

Still, he doesn’t say anything. He tells himself that the only reason he stays quiet is because it
is late, and Lan Zhan has just drifted off to sleep. And the next day, he doesn’t say anything,
and he tells himself it is because he keeps getting distracted, and the topic just never comes
up (he is distracted, admittedly. It is all he can think about).

He continues to tell himself that he will bring it up later, that they can talk about it later.
Really, he knows he is just being selfish. He wants to savor this softness for as long as he can.
Until they talk about it, he can pretend that it’s okay, and that he is allowed to act like the
space at Lan Zhan’s side belongs to him. He knows that, when he finally finds the courage to
ask where the boundaries are, he will likely lose the right to stay there.
But Lan Zhan never tells him to stop, never asks him to go home to the Jiang’s on the
weekends instead of returning to Lan Zhan’s house as if it were his own. Never asks him to
hug a little less tightly or sleep a little less close.

It is enough of an excuse to not ask.

And on bad days, when Lan Zhan finds himself obsessing a little too much over his rules and
his numbers - when a broken down subway disrupts his routine, when he bends one of his
own unspoken rules a little too far, when his guqin recital is scheduled on the wrong date and
he can’t break himself out of the spiral of panic, he is the one seeking out Wei Ying’s hand
with his own and clinging to it like a lifeline.

Almost every weekend of the school year is spent at Wangji’s house. They spend them sitting
comfortably in each other's company - Wangji playing and composing on his guqin and
keyboard in between studying, Wei Wuxian drawing and writing and plotting his story,
rambling excitedly about his characters and the new adventures he has planned for them.

It’s good. Wangji is silently grateful that Wei Ying is with him more often than not, rather
than at the Jiang’s getting yelled at, stealing liquor and getting drunk, and then getting yelled
at and hit for stealing liquor and getting drunk. There are still days when that happens, of
course. They can not be together every day and every weekend, and there are often occasions
when family affairs keep them busy on Saturday and Sunday evenings. Sometimes, on days
like that, Wei Ying calls Wangji, words slurring together as he recounts the events of the day
with a laugh that Wangji knows is forced.

When summer arrives, Lan Wangji gifts Wei Ying a drawing tablet.

“For your manhua. You’ve been working hard, and now that summer is here, you’ll have
more time to draw,” he says. He refuses to tell Wei Ying the price of it, and when Wei
Wuxian searches the model online and sees the cost, he almost faints.

“Lan Zhan, you dummy, why would you spend so much money on this?! How am I supposed
to accept this?!”

“Will you not?” The softly questioning look on Wangji’s face makes Wei Wuxian falter and
fall silent.

“I will, of course I will,” he says eventually. “Thank you Lan Zhan. This is the best day ever.
I’ll use it well. And when I publish my story, I’m going to make you proud. I promise.”

Lan Zhan smiles, the soft kind of smile that is reserved only for Wei Ying.

“You always do,” he says, and Wei Ying grins back.

Unfortunately, summertime means more time at home with family, and for families like
theirs, that means high tension and frequent fights. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian do their best
to keep themselves out of their houses as much as possible, but of course - only so much is
possible.

For as much as Wei Wuxian tries to keep himself busy, keep himself distracted by his art and
by Wangji’s calming presence and low voice, nothing seems to be enough to fight off the
stormy moods that come more and more often.

Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t have lessons to wake up for every day, Wangji muses, that
Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to find any reason not to drink, even on weekdays, now. Maybe it’s
also partly because he is with Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang more often, and both of them
are also inclined toward partying.

The one time Lan Wangji brings it up - an attempt to express his concern about the increasing
occurrences of Wei Wuxian calling him, drunk and rambling - Wei Wuxian snaps at him.

“Fuck, I’m just having some fun, okay? Don’t make it into such a big deal, Lan Wangji. I’m
not a fucking alcoholic or some shit. ”

And so, maybe he went a little too far. It wasn’t as if Lan Wangji had even called him an
alcoholic - hadn’t even really implied it. Had only asked him if he was okay - that he had
been drinking a lot lately and he was starting to get worried. Ah, he had kinda fucked up,
hadn’t he?

They both fall silent, for a few minutes. Lan Wangji tries not to let his hurt show on his face,
and Wei Wuxian’s defiant expression slowly turns into something like guilt.

“I just - “ Wei Wuxian says, after a bit. “I just mean that it’s not, like, a problem, you know?
I’ve got it under control. Like, I could stop if I wanted to. It’s just fun. To unwind a bit. So
don’t worry about it, okay?”

Lan Wangji says okay, even though he feels like it isn’t really okay, but all he can think about
is the way Wei Ying had said his name - had said Lan Wangji in that biting tone - and he
wants to never hear Wei Ying say it like that again. So he drops the topic, lets Wei Ying take
the conversation elsewhere, and tries to bury his anxiety behind a blank face.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t meet his eyes directly for the rest of the day, laughs a little too loudly at
everything. Lan Wangji half expects him to leave; they had talked that morning of Wei Ying
spending the night, but Wangji had clearly upset him. He almost hopes that he will, if only to
give him an excuse to punish himself for overstepping. But evening comes, and Wei Ying
stays. And when they climb into bed, Wei Ying curls against Wangji’s side and rests his head
on his chest.

“Lan Zhan…” he starts, as they both lie in the dark room.

“Hm?”

“...Never mind,” he says, but it doesn’t sound like he really means it.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asks after a quiet minute.

“I’m still - I’m not really, like, used to people, uh…” he trails off again. “Never mind.
Whatever. I’m being stupid. Ignore me.” I’m not used to people caring like you do, he was
going to say. But then it suddenly seemed presumptuous, to talk about how much Lan Zhan
cares or doesn’t care.

“I don’t want to ignore you,” Lan Zhan says.

“Just do it this once, okay?” Wei Wuxian asks, turning his face to hide it against Lan Zhan’s
shirt. His next words are muffled. “Can you hug me? Let’s just sleep.” Wangji’s arm comes
up and wraps around his shoulders.

“Okay,” he says softly.

Sometimes, when people act like they care, it just makes me angry, Wei Wuxian doesn’t say.
People don’t act like it often, but when they do, it usually just feels like pity. Like the way
Jiang Fengmian talks to me and looks at me. Sometimes, the way jiejie talks to me and looks
at me. I don’t want you to pity me. If you pity me too, then I really must be pretty pathetic.

He breathes in Lan Zhan’s scent, listens to the steady beat of his heart, feels the warmth of
the chest under his cheek. He stays very still, doesn’t move until long after Lan Zhan has
fallen asleep.

Eventually, he carefully peels himself away from Lan Zhan. He knows he doesn’t really
deserve Lan Zhan’s softness right now. Doesn’t deserve his unconditional care, doesn’t
deserve his arms around him.

He spends the nights sitting on the floor, writing in the dim light from the moon and street
lamps that shines through the curtains, until his eyes sting and his head pounds.

Although Lan Wangji keeps his time well-structured no matter the time of year, he often finds
himself anxious and lonely during school breaks - like his life suddenly has no meaning and
purpose, and he is left in limbo, desperately trying to keep his life organized, to create a
routine that makes him feel fulfilled. So Wangji is glad for the start of the new school year -
is glad for the excuse to see Wei Ying everyday, is glad for the thoughtless repetition that
makes up his weekdays.

Despite his whining, Wangji knows that Wei Ying is secretly grateful, too, for having a
reason to be out of the house every day. Especially since Jiang Yanli is busy preparing to
open her new restaurant, and has gotten her own car, and therefore has less time and fewer
reasons to return to the family house.

Wangji can’t blame her, of course, but he can’t help feeling a little bitter that she’s no longer
around to help put out the fires of Madam Yu’s anger.

Wei Ying arrives at school with fresh bruises more frequently, this school year. People talk.
Speculate about all the fights he must be picking outside of school, rumors that he must be in
a neighborhood gang. Since his brother is always unharmed, no one suspects that all the
problems are at home.

Jiang Cheng does nothing to dispel the rumors, and with each day, Wangji finds himself
hating him more and more.

But it’s not his place, to say, either. Because the Jiang’s are still Wei Ying’s family, and if the
school found out about the abuse, would they take Wei Ying away from the only family he
has? So Lan Wangji stays quiet, despite his building anger, and takes care of Wei Ying in the
only ways he can, in the only ways Wei Ying will allow. For now, at least, that will have to be
enough.

And that’s how their final year of high school proceeds, as they fill their every waking hour
preparing for the gaokao, burning themselves down to nothing.

Wei Wuxian is smart - he always has been - able to ace tests with barely any studying. The
weekends are spent in Lan Wangji’s bedroom, Wangji dedicating his time to studying, while
Wei Wuxian draws and writes at his side. It is the only peace they know. A small corner of
the world where they can just be - just the two of them, free from the eyes of anyone else.

It is also a secret. Wei Wuxian tells the Jiang’s that he is attending a Saturday study hall, and
Wangji sneaks Wei Ying into the house without his uncle knowing. Lan Xichen is kind
enough to help distract Lan Qiren whenever necessary, and he delivers cut fruit or tea
throughout the day, smiling knowingly at Wangji. Wei Wuxian catches the looks, a few times,
and doesn’t know what to make of them. Uncomfortable, like there’s some secret he’s not in
on, nervous, like there’s some joke at his expense.

In the moments following those interactions, Wei Wuxian finds himself blabbering even more
than usual (is that even possible? he’s not sure, but he thinks he manages it), just enough to
fill the silence and distract himself from the strange expression on Lan Zhan’s face.

In spring, as the gaokao approaches, Lan Qiren tightens his leash on Wangji, and their
weekend hangouts temporarily cease. Wei Wuxian assures him repeatedly that he’s okay,
they’ll be done with all of this soon! And then they can go wherever they want! (They both
know that’s not entirely true, but the words are comforting nonetheless).

When they see each other at school, Wei Wuxian is always laughing, always grinning, as if he
thinks that the dark rings under his eyes will become invisible if he’s squinting with a smile.
He doesn’t greet Jiang Cheng when they pass in the hallways, and Jiang Cheng strides past
with a frown on his face. Wei Wuxian carefully avoids all mentions of home, and Wangji
doesn’t ask - selfishly scared to see his happy facade crack.

Until it cracks.

Wei Wuxian goes radio silent, one night, doesn’t even answer Lan Wangji’s phone call. And
the next day at school, the desk beside Wangji remains empty. Thirteen missed calls, the
answering machine informing him that the phone he’s trying to reach is disconnected.
 Lan Wangji doesn’t mean to come across as obsessive - he wonders what Wei Ying will think
of him when he turns his phone on again, acting like a desperate boyfriend.

He’s probably grounded, Lan Wangji reasons, though he’s never seen someone whose rules
forbid someone from attending school when grounded. Perhaps he’s ill again? But he knows
Wei Ying, and surely he would text Wangji to let him know, even with a fever.

At lunch, Lan Wangji goes to the homeroom teacher and asks if Wei Ying’s family called to
inform them of his absence, but the teacher knows nothing more than he does - says that Wei
Wuxian provided no excuse or notification, they hadn’t even heard from his parents.

When the school day comes to an end, Wangji rushes out of his classroom to catch Jiang
Cheng before he leaves. He’s scowling at the floor as he walks, almost colliding with Wangji
when he steps in front of him.

“What do you want?” Jiang Cheng snaps.

“Where is Wei Ying?” Jiang Cheng’s frown deepens.

“Hmph, and I thought you of all people would know. He didn’t run to you first thing?”

“What do you mean?” Wangji asks, feeling ice fill his veins.

“He and mom fought. What’s new. Whatever. Mom told him to get out and this asshole
actually listened. Packed his shit during the night. What, he didn’t go to your house?”

“Obviously not,” Lan Wangji snaps, momentarily unable to rein in his anger. Jiang Cheng
rolls his eyes.

“I have to go. Send him home if you find him,” he says, and then pushes past Lan Wangji and
disappears down the hall, and Lan Wangji is left standing alone in the quickly emptying
school.

His phone doesn’t ring, no matter how long he stares at the blank screen. No matter how
many texts he sends, no matter how many times he calls. By the sixteenth call, he swallows
his panic and leaves a voicemail. By the nineteenth call, his voice fails, cracking and falling
silent after only getting Wei Ying’s name out.

He doesn’t go to the evening session at school. After a short text exchange, Lan Xichen pulls
up outside of the school and ushers Wangji into the car. They drive home in silence.

When they arrive, the house is silent, and Wangji’s room is silent, and he is silent. Without
Wei Ying, it feels as if he took every pleasant sound in the world with him, leaving Wangji
with nothing but his thoughts, and the persistent tap of rain on the rooftop.

Chapter End Notes

thank you so much for reading! i'm really really sorry this update took so long, life has
been kicking my ass lmao. anyway, yeah, sad chapter haha :D only one of two updates
after this. don't worry, I promise to give our boys their happy ending!
End Notes

come be my friend on twitter @bluwanning

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