( 16 hours. that’s how long lan wangji managed to meditate after all, to soothe his own nerves and come to terms with… well. everything. it’s a work in progress. a bit like walking on eggshells, but lan wangji’s always been graceful enough, and if they crack, they never fully break. not yet, anyway, and they can’t, because someone else roams the confines of his heart now, and he can’t find out.
it’s quite the task, trying to keep everything at bay. he feels him in a way he’s never felt anyone before, and the odd thing is that it doesn’t even feel foreign. there’s a sort of natural ease between them, even in spite of his most awkward moments, and it’s almost like wearing an old pair of shoes. some things you never forget. he just isn’t sure what it is that he remembers, exactly. it’s tough on his senses, to hide. he doesn’t know what he fears, exactly. vulnerability, certainly. uncertainty. confusion. love is a vast microcosm to explore, and he’s only just stepped inside, bare and exposed, and the only role models he had died for all the wrong reasons.
so he tip-toes around him. them. focuses on his new abilities, learns, studies. they’ve already spent too long in the library, and lan wangji silently apologizes by walking towards another building. pillows. blankets. mattresses in the window. he stops there and turns to look at him, a timid and slightly self-conscious curve to his lips. ) Winter is coming. ( get out ned stark. ) New furniture, for you. To keep warm.
[he feels the return of something to him. it's not new, not the overlapping of another lan wangji's bond over his husband's. it's familiar, and a comfort, but that also makes it all the more challenging.
it would be easy to let too much flow between them. in fact, it wouldn't take any effort at all. wei wuxian holds himself back and hopes it's enough, because that's not exactly something he's known for, or even the sect that raised him. the abundance of emotions that he always feels is no exception, but he quickly learns ways of working around what he can't hide. moments of longing that lan wangji might sense, just wei wuxian's neverending love of alcohol, faded again by the time he finishes a jar. if he feels a small surge of happiness coming from the puca's direction while in the library? must be wei wuxian flipping through a book nearby, holding back his laughter at the unflattering illustrations of witches of olde.
he's visibly glad to be out of there though, his red ribbon trailing behind him as he walks two steps ahead of lan wangji. his hands are locked behind his back...except when they're not, touching anything that he thinks is pretty or interesting when they come to the edge of the marketplace.
he looks back at the witch, and returns to him to see what he's stopped to look at in the window. lan wangji's suggestion is considerate. logical. but he still looks unsure for some reason.]
Ah...puca don't really mind the cold. Besides, I can always ask Wen Ning to share his blankets.
( and wei wuxian’s efforts are pretty effective, because lan wangji is utterly fooled. that burst of joy he vaguely senses from the other? the distant need for rapprochements? hints of nostalgia ond melancholy? definitely not wangji-flavored, because there’s no way in this universe or any other that the infamous yiling patriarch would fall for someone as bleak as hanguang-jun. he knows his stance. his spicy inclinations. and lan wangji doesn’t fit the bill.
maybe it’s better this way. dealing with his own feelings is overwhelming enough as is, what if he had to handle another’s. all aimed at him, too! it doesn’t have to be complicated, but when you’ve never known basic affection, it’s a little difficult to envision. and frightening. sometimes maddening, too, especially when a third individual inconspicuously crawls in-between.
wen ning. his blankets? aka his bed, essentially, and lan wangji’s mouth closes and curls into a frown, the same displeased glint in his eyes. they did argue. or lan wangji tried, anyway, unwilling to take wei wuxian’s bed and fully prepared to sleep on the floor, but wei ying wouldn’t have it. and they say he is stubborn. brows furrowed, he does his very best to ignore the unpleasant knot in his stomach, momentarily glancing down. he never dared to ask, but... ) I would share yours. ( which is a silly thing to say, when the bed isn’t even his. the implications go straight to his cheeks, and he hopes they aren’t as red as they feel when he looks back up. ) If you wish. ( here’s your out, wei wuxian, if you don’t wanna sleep with your not-yet!husband. )
[he does want to sleep with him. more than anything, he wants to sleep with lan wangji in the purest sense, lie by his side and listen to the sound of his breathing. wei wuxian wants to watch him sleep until he himself can fall asleep reassured that he's there. he wants it so much that he knows he doesn't dare have it.
he smiles before reaching out to pat his shoulder, chaste and friendly and not letting his clawed fingers curl too much into him.]
Lan Zhan, the two of us sharing a bed would be a bad idea. We don't even have the same sleep schedule. Neither of us would get proper rest. [wei wuxian's hand slides down and wraps around his wrist to give him a little tug away from the window.] Come on, they're selling chestnuts down the road. I want to get some before they're all gone!
( oh. that’s. oh. it’s an excuse, isn’t it. because what difference would it make, if wei wuxian slept beside him, rather than the floor. or the roof, not always as quiet as he might hope he is. what difference would it make to hear him walk down the hall to find wen ning’s room, rather than his. theirs. but he knows the differences it would make, not quite immune to his proximity, and wei wuxian’s answer is telling in ways he wishes it wasn’t.
it’s awfully conflicting, to hope for one thing and fear it all at the same time. it’s something else to be told no. lan wangji follows, wanting to ask a thousand questions he doesn’t know how to word, and if you’ve never seen a kicked puppy before, well, look no farther. but he’s quick to school his expression. swallow back the sour tang in the back of his throat, let it burn in his chest. a part of him desperately wants to apologize for being so bold, but wei wuxian’s already moved on. no matter. from now on, lan wangji shall stubbornly sleep on the floor, wherever wei wuxian might be.
...except his mind is never quite as clear now as it used to be. maybe it’s aefenglom. maybe it’s the bond. or maybe it’s all the things he knows and doesn’t. it nags at him, and before he can stop himself, he huffs quietly, mildly frustrated as they reach a stand full of roasted chestnuts. ) Who were you bonded with before?
[he doesn't need to look at lan wangji to feel his disappointment. it's a taste on his own tongue, a tightening between his shoulderblades, and an unpleasant burn in his chest that makes wei wuxian bump his fist against it while blaming indigestion.
he tries to focus on the simple happiness of roasted chestnuts and share that feeling instead. see? everything's fine, and this feeling only comes through when wei wuxian is with him. but he forgets how he's made an impression, even here, and that some of the vendors are familiar with the puca and his wicth in their contrasting robes.
'out shopping with your h-'
wei wuxian presses his hand over the man's mouth and a coin into his hand. there's some light laughter and an uncertain glance in lan wangji's direction as he collects his bag of nuts. he didn't catch that, did he? he definitely silenced the guy in time.
but then he winces a little at his question, more unexpected than it actually should be. lan wangji has always been straightforward and truth-seeking. it's only natural that he should bring this up and then refuse to let it go. but here wei wuxian might actually have a way of reassuring him for earlier.]
Lan Zhan. [wei wuxian sighs and turns to face him.] Of course it was you. Who else could put up with me?
[that said, he pops one of the roasted chestnuts into his mouth and offers him the opened bag with raised eyebrows. that's all there was to it. really.]
( okay. that wasn’t suspicious at all. or incriminating for that matter. his… what? lan wangji stares unflinching, inwardly digging for a clue, because he’ll be damned if that wasn’t one hell of a dramatic dodge, in perfect wuxian fashion. he might have succeeded had his bonded remained silent, but then there’s the sound of laughter, followed by his name, and lan wangji inevitably does flinch.
the answer is a little bittersweet. who else, and he can’t recall anyone else who might have, aside from his sister. but wei wuxian has been here for nearly a year, and his surroundings seem so much better. like this merchant, for instance. an acquaintance? friendly-looking, though lan wangji eyes him intently after recovering, only to finally nod pink-cheeked as he picks one flavorful chestnut. they were bonded, then. what else. wei wuxian might be good at deflecting, but he’s also a terrible liar. too candid. too selfless. and lan wangji is implacable.
testing the waters sounds like a good enough plan. he munches slowly, silently studying him. and then... ) I seem to recall a few things. ( and his focus on him marginally sharpens. )
[wei wuxian tries to keep his voice and his expression as even as possible, so as to not betray the way his heart binkies in his chest. but lan wangji is on the scent, like a hound with a rabbit. if nothing else, the shudder that runs through him at that analogy might help him.
he pops another chestnut into his mouth, breaking the eye contact so as to take a look around them. he points to a bench nearby, which is conveniently away from the vendor or anyone else who might make small talk.]
Let's sit. You can tell me what you remember and I can help you make sense of it.
( maybe he played himself. it’s hard to tell if the jump in his pulse is his own or wei wuxian’s, and he stares a little while longer, intent, but his bonded looks away and lan wangji is left slightly puzzled. there’s no visible panic on his face. if anything, he’s sweating, hands moist as he gracefully sits, absentmindedly rubbing them down his thighs.
it’s a risky game to play when you don’t know the stakes, and he takes a deep breath to compose himself, wondering whether he should really venture into that kind of territory. it’s a bit too late to back down now, and what’s more, there’s plenty that he doesn’t know, no need to add more confusion to his already perplexed state.
so what does he remember? lips part on a slow exhale, and... ) Colors. ( a lot of red. ) Faces. ( friends, he thinks. people he’s never seen before but know, as well as some conversations. ) The Wilde. ( ghosts. a decrepit outpost. a cave, too, with strange carvings etched into the stone. but some things are more obvious than others. impressions he can’t really explain, such as... ) Your kitchen table is filthy. ( in a way he also can’t describe, a flutter in his stomach, warmth everywhere else. he lifts his gaze and catches his, a little more adamant, despite the heat teasing his ears. ) And you wear a piece of the Gusulan ribbon around your wrist. ( namely his own, and his eyes never waver down to actually check, knowing it’s there. )
[it's an agonizing game to play when you do know the stakes. he doesn't know what lan wangji has remembered and what he hasn't, so he might be asked to explain a kiss or a touch, or a feeling of hatred for someone who the other barely knows. wei wuxian has to be prepared for anything, and yet he's walking into it blind.
lan wangji lists, making him realize that it's fragments of memories more than anything. he can manage that - until the comment about his table, and wei wuxian nearly chokes on a chestnut.]
That-! [he points at him, flushed and speechless until he collects himself.] I won't get rid of that table, no matter what you think of it.
[maybe if lan wangji thinks that the story is literally about the table and not what happened on it, he'll deem it unimportant and drop it. but the truth of the ribbon is more difficult to avoid. and wei wuxian finds that he doesn't actually want to. he doesn't want to downplay its importance, not in the giving or what it means to him.]
You tied it around my wrist when we first arrived here, as a reminder of honoring the wishes that we made together at Cloud Recesses. It never comes off - which reminds me. [lan wangji will have to make of that what he will. just as he'll have to ponder the meaning of wei wuxian placing the bag aside and biting off a length of his own red ribbon.] I probably should've done this a long time ago, but there's really nothing special about mine. It's just a ribbon.
[he reaches for lan wangi's wrist to tie loosely around it.]
( ha! so there is a reason why lan wangji won’t dare eat anywhere near that table. it’s ambiguous at best, but wei wuxian’s reaction only fuels his curiosity. filthy, he said. what kind of meal did they serve for wei ying of all people to get a little flustered? a memory he’s clearly fond of, too, since he won’t get rid of it, but it soon becomes insignificant when lan wangji is presented with another answer, nearly choking on his next inhale.
brows rise. eyes widen. the explanation makes sense, but the implications left unsaid cut his breath short. he knows, better than anyone, the significance of his headband. it’s a token of his teachings, the discipline of his clan, his own self-control. to share it with someone else is to let go, to let them in, guard lowered, heart exposed, and he thinks he actually stops breathing for a second there, blanching a little. his skin grows even paler when wei wuxian ties a red one around his own wrist, and he’s too stupefied to move, chest pounding, the pressure there clawing through his rib cage. there’s something in his throat. he can’t decide whether it’s a cry, a scream, a sigh. but he swallows past it with visible difficulty, wei wuxian’s words echoing through his mind, squeezing around his heart.
it hurts, a dull ache. it’s in his bones, in his blood. a little watery in his eyes. it chafes, and scorches, and flays. but it warms, too, and lan wangji looks at him touched beyond measure, lost in a maelstrom of sensations.
circumstances made it that wei wuxian keeps a low opinion of himself, and lan wangji shakes his head slowly, fingers brushing against the red ribbon. ) All things are trivial, until we give them meaning. ( objects are just that. nothing more, nothing else. and wei wuxian is nothing short of extraordinary.
his lips soften. his eyes, too. he breathes in once, twice. and... )You have meaning.
[it's so like lan wangji to remind him of that. to not only not allow others to put him down, but not letting wei wuxian to do it to himself either. it's still hard to believe, sometimes. but if someone as good as lan wangji believes it, then he wants it to be true, he strives for it, and so the effect is largely the same.
he smiles at him, warm and grateful, his fingers curling around the other's wrist again. he can still share touches like this without worry, because he always did before. affection and intimacy between them didn't start with their marriage, or even their bonding.]
That belongs to you too, Lan Zhan.
[whatever meaning he has, whatever he means to him, it's all for him now. they're soulmates, bondmates, best friends. the importance of all those things hasn't been dimished in wei wuxian's eyes - if anything, they mean more to him now. he means everything, and it's the one thing wei wuxian will never forget.]
So, should we test it out? [the warmth in wei wuxian's eyes and his smile go from warm to blazing mischief with his vague suggestion.] Let's see just how strong our bond is now.
( he almost wants to protest. wei wuxian doesn’t, nor should he, belong to anyone. but it’s not what he means, not really, and lan wangji flushes all over again, wondering if he’d say the same, if he knew. if he knew the notes of gentle interest between each heartbeat. if he knew the ache they cause, excruciating and exquisite. if he knew the hollow space between them, shaped like his absence. if he knew his thoughts, his dreams, his wants, overwhelming beneath his shaky resolve, threatening to burst through. if he knew of his sheer admiration, tinted with warmth and affection.
can he sense it all, frayed at the seams? lan wangji gazes into his eyes breathless, curious and searching and awed, expression open, honest. it’s almost naive, and he looks so young in his careful bashfulness, but he thinks, maybe, that what wei wuxian means to him might be clear in that moment, for them both. he’s mesmerized. which is probably why he simply nods stupid at his friend’s suggestion, though it’s a great opportunity to regain some semblance of composure.
he rises lovestruck, forcing his gaze away. this odd urge to indulge him is inescapable, and lan wangji slowly walks away, his heart in his throat and his fingers idly grazing the red ribbon around his wrist.
hide and seek, then. but is he the predator, or the prey? )
[he knows - or he's learning. relearning. relying less on the bond this time for how he feels and more on what he sees when lan wangji looks at him. he's taking his time and letting lan wangji do the same.
his heart sinks, the echo of it felt in the witch's own chest, just from watching him walk away. but should lan wangji look his way, he'll find wei wuxian already gone. the puca puts distance between them, making sure they're far apart before he stops in the middle of a crowd.
there, he closes his eyes and focus on the thrum that courses through his body. wei wuxian touches the ribbon around his own wrist and concentrates on how his bondmate is feeling and where he might be. after a moment he opens his eyes and forces himself to walk in that direction, letting his heart be his divining rod.]
( it’s surprisingly easy. maybe it’s the remnants of a bond once shared. even with his eyes closed, lan wangji feels him, a warm presence everywhere his pulse hums, like a new sense. he’s used to meditating. reaching deep in every corner of his mind, which might make this particular task seemingly effortless. but it’s more than that, a connection that transcends everything he’s ever known.
he doesn’t immediately find him, but his blood pounds hotter the closer he thinks he gets, gentle notes in the back of his skull. it’s a bit like music, a unique melody he already knows by heart, and sure enough, wei wuxian comes into sight in all his splendid glory, facing the opposite way. lan wangji stops. gasps quietly, a buzz under his skin. he walks closer, strangely unbothered by all the strangers surrounding him. and he smiles. faint, tender. a private little thing.
wei ying. he doesn’t say it, his name only resonating in his mind. and he waits. )
[he's close. wei wuxian can't explain how he knows, but it's more than just faith that lan wangji will be there when he needs him most, in their world or any other. it's a tune inside his head that starts out a lonely solo, but gradually becomes a beautiful duet the nearer he gets.
he spins, hearing his name but not realizing that it wasn't lan wangji's lips that spoke it. he breaks into a bright smile at the sight of him, and maybe just gives a happy little hop.]
Lan Zhan! It's like we're still connected by that spell I came up with all those years ago! Remember the one? The one I couldn't decide on a name for?
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it’s quite the task, trying to keep everything at bay. he feels him in a way he’s never felt anyone before, and the odd thing is that it doesn’t even feel foreign. there’s a sort of natural ease between them, even in spite of his most awkward moments, and it’s almost like wearing an old pair of shoes. some things you never forget. he just isn’t sure what it is that he remembers, exactly. it’s tough on his senses, to hide. he doesn’t know what he fears, exactly. vulnerability, certainly. uncertainty. confusion. love is a vast microcosm to explore, and he’s only just stepped inside, bare and exposed, and the only role models he had died for all the wrong reasons.
so he tip-toes around him. them. focuses on his new abilities, learns, studies. they’ve already spent too long in the library, and lan wangji silently apologizes by walking towards another building. pillows. blankets. mattresses in the window. he stops there and turns to look at him, a timid and slightly self-conscious curve to his lips. ) Winter is coming. (
get out ned stark. ) New furniture, for you. To keep warm.no subject
it would be easy to let too much flow between them. in fact, it wouldn't take any effort at all. wei wuxian holds himself back and hopes it's enough, because that's not exactly something he's known for, or even the sect that raised him. the abundance of emotions that he always feels is no exception, but he quickly learns ways of working around what he can't hide. moments of longing that lan wangji might sense, just wei wuxian's neverending love of alcohol, faded again by the time he finishes a jar. if he feels a small surge of happiness coming from the puca's direction while in the library? must be wei wuxian flipping through a book nearby, holding back his laughter at the unflattering illustrations of witches of olde.
he's visibly glad to be out of there though, his red ribbon trailing behind him as he walks two steps ahead of lan wangji. his hands are locked behind his back...except when they're not, touching anything that he thinks is pretty or interesting when they come to the edge of the marketplace.
he looks back at the witch, and returns to him to see what he's stopped to look at in the window. lan wangji's suggestion is considerate. logical. but he still looks unsure for some reason.]
Ah...puca don't really mind the cold. Besides, I can always ask Wen Ning to share his blankets.
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maybe it’s better this way. dealing with his own feelings is overwhelming enough as is, what if he had to handle another’s. all aimed at him, too! it doesn’t have to be complicated, but when you’ve never known basic affection, it’s a little difficult to envision. and frightening. sometimes maddening, too, especially when a third individual inconspicuously crawls in-between.
wen ning. his blankets? aka his bed, essentially, and lan wangji’s mouth closes and curls into a frown, the same displeased glint in his eyes. they did argue. or lan wangji tried, anyway, unwilling to take wei wuxian’s bed and fully prepared to sleep on the floor, but wei ying wouldn’t have it. and they say he is stubborn. brows furrowed, he does his very best to ignore the unpleasant knot in his stomach, momentarily glancing down. he never dared to ask, but... ) I would share yours. ( which is a silly thing to say, when the bed isn’t even his. the implications go straight to his cheeks, and he hopes they aren’t as red as they feel when he looks back up. ) If you wish. ( here’s your out, wei wuxian, if you don’t wanna sleep with your not-yet!husband. )
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he smiles before reaching out to pat his shoulder, chaste and friendly and not letting his clawed fingers curl too much into him.]
Lan Zhan, the two of us sharing a bed would be a bad idea. We don't even have the same sleep schedule. Neither of us would get proper rest. [wei wuxian's hand slides down and wraps around his wrist to give him a little tug away from the window.] Come on, they're selling chestnuts down the road. I want to get some before they're all gone!
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it’s awfully conflicting, to hope for one thing and fear it all at the same time. it’s something else to be told no. lan wangji follows, wanting to ask a thousand questions he doesn’t know how to word, and if you’ve never seen a kicked puppy before, well, look no farther. but he’s quick to school his expression. swallow back the sour tang in the back of his throat, let it burn in his chest. a part of him desperately wants to apologize for being so bold, but wei wuxian’s already moved on. no matter. from now on, lan wangji shall stubbornly sleep on the floor, wherever wei wuxian might be.
...except his mind is never quite as clear now as it used to be. maybe it’s aefenglom. maybe it’s the bond. or maybe it’s all the things he knows and doesn’t. it nags at him, and before he can stop himself, he huffs quietly, mildly frustrated as they reach a stand full of roasted chestnuts. ) Who were you bonded with before?
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he tries to focus on the simple happiness of roasted chestnuts and share that feeling instead. see? everything's fine, and this feeling only comes through when wei wuxian is with him. but he forgets how he's made an impression, even here, and that some of the vendors are familiar with the puca and his wicth in their contrasting robes.
'out shopping with your h-'
wei wuxian presses his hand over the man's mouth and a coin into his hand. there's some light laughter and an uncertain glance in lan wangji's direction as he collects his bag of nuts. he didn't catch that, did he? he definitely silenced the guy in time.
but then he winces a little at his question, more unexpected than it actually should be. lan wangji has always been straightforward and truth-seeking. it's only natural that he should bring this up and then refuse to let it go. but here wei wuxian might actually have a way of reassuring him for earlier.]
Lan Zhan. [wei wuxian sighs and turns to face him.] Of course it was you. Who else could put up with me?
[that said, he pops one of the roasted chestnuts into his mouth and offers him the opened bag with raised eyebrows. that's all there was to it. really.]
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the answer is a little bittersweet. who else, and he can’t recall anyone else who might have, aside from his sister. but wei wuxian has been here for nearly a year, and his surroundings seem so much better. like this merchant, for instance. an acquaintance? friendly-looking, though lan wangji eyes him intently after recovering, only to finally nod pink-cheeked as he picks one flavorful chestnut. they were bonded, then. what else. wei wuxian might be good at deflecting, but he’s also a terrible liar. too candid. too selfless. and lan wangji is implacable.
testing the waters sounds like a good enough plan. he munches slowly, silently studying him. and then... ) I seem to recall a few things. ( and his focus on him marginally sharpens. )
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[wei wuxian tries to keep his voice and his expression as even as possible, so as to not betray the way his heart binkies in his chest. but lan wangji is on the scent, like a hound with a rabbit. if nothing else, the shudder that runs through him at that analogy might help him.
he pops another chestnut into his mouth, breaking the eye contact so as to take a look around them. he points to a bench nearby, which is conveniently away from the vendor or anyone else who might make small talk.]
Let's sit. You can tell me what you remember and I can help you make sense of it.
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it’s a risky game to play when you don’t know the stakes, and he takes a deep breath to compose himself, wondering whether he should really venture into that kind of territory. it’s a bit too late to back down now, and what’s more, there’s plenty that he doesn’t know, no need to add more confusion to his already perplexed state.
so what does he remember? lips part on a slow exhale, and... ) Colors. ( a lot of red. ) Faces. ( friends, he thinks. people he’s never seen before but know, as well as some conversations. ) The Wilde. ( ghosts. a decrepit outpost. a cave, too, with strange carvings etched into the stone. but some things are more obvious than others. impressions he can’t really explain, such as... ) Your kitchen table is filthy. ( in a way he also can’t describe, a flutter in his stomach, warmth everywhere else. he lifts his gaze and catches his, a little more adamant, despite the heat teasing his ears. ) And you wear a piece of the Gusulan ribbon around your wrist. ( namely his own, and his eyes never waver down to actually check, knowing it’s there. )
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lan wangji lists, making him realize that it's fragments of memories more than anything. he can manage that - until the comment about his table, and wei wuxian nearly chokes on a chestnut.]
That-! [he points at him, flushed and speechless until he collects himself.] I won't get rid of that table, no matter what you think of it.
[maybe if lan wangji thinks that the story is literally about the table and not what happened on it, he'll deem it unimportant and drop it. but the truth of the ribbon is more difficult to avoid. and wei wuxian finds that he doesn't actually want to. he doesn't want to downplay its importance, not in the giving or what it means to him.]
You tied it around my wrist when we first arrived here, as a reminder of honoring the wishes that we made together at Cloud Recesses. It never comes off - which reminds me. [lan wangji will have to make of that what he will. just as he'll have to ponder the meaning of wei wuxian placing the bag aside and biting off a length of his own red ribbon.] I probably should've done this a long time ago, but there's really nothing special about mine. It's just a ribbon.
[he reaches for lan wangi's wrist to tie loosely around it.]
But it's mine. And now it's yours too.
[as he is. always.]
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brows rise. eyes widen. the explanation makes sense, but the implications left unsaid cut his breath short. he knows, better than anyone, the significance of his headband. it’s a token of his teachings, the discipline of his clan, his own self-control. to share it with someone else is to let go, to let them in, guard lowered, heart exposed, and he thinks he actually stops breathing for a second there, blanching a little. his skin grows even paler when wei wuxian ties a red one around his own wrist, and he’s too stupefied to move, chest pounding, the pressure there clawing through his rib cage. there’s something in his throat. he can’t decide whether it’s a cry, a scream, a sigh. but he swallows past it with visible difficulty, wei wuxian’s words echoing through his mind, squeezing around his heart.
it hurts, a dull ache. it’s in his bones, in his blood. a little watery in his eyes. it chafes, and scorches, and flays. but it warms, too, and lan wangji looks at him touched beyond measure, lost in a maelstrom of sensations.
circumstances made it that wei wuxian keeps a low opinion of himself, and lan wangji shakes his head slowly, fingers brushing against the red ribbon. ) All things are trivial, until we give them meaning. ( objects are just that. nothing more, nothing else. and wei wuxian is nothing short of extraordinary.
his lips soften. his eyes, too. he breathes in once, twice. and... ) You have meaning.
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he smiles at him, warm and grateful, his fingers curling around the other's wrist again. he can still share touches like this without worry, because he always did before. affection and intimacy between them didn't start with their marriage, or even their bonding.]
That belongs to you too, Lan Zhan.
[whatever meaning he has, whatever he means to him, it's all for him now. they're soulmates, bondmates, best friends. the importance of all those things hasn't been dimished in wei wuxian's eyes - if anything, they mean more to him now. he means everything, and it's the one thing wei wuxian will never forget.]
So, should we test it out? [the warmth in wei wuxian's eyes and his smile go from warm to blazing mischief with his vague suggestion.] Let's see just how strong our bond is now.
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can he sense it all, frayed at the seams? lan wangji gazes into his eyes breathless, curious and searching and awed, expression open, honest. it’s almost naive, and he looks so young in his careful bashfulness, but he thinks, maybe, that what wei wuxian means to him might be clear in that moment, for them both. he’s mesmerized. which is probably why he simply nods stupid at his friend’s suggestion, though it’s a great opportunity to regain some semblance of composure.
he rises lovestruck, forcing his gaze away. this odd urge to indulge him is inescapable, and lan wangji slowly walks away, his heart in his throat and his fingers idly grazing the red ribbon around his wrist.
hide and seek, then. but is he the predator, or the prey? )
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his heart sinks, the echo of it felt in the witch's own chest, just from watching him walk away. but should lan wangji look his way, he'll find wei wuxian already gone. the puca puts distance between them, making sure they're far apart before he stops in the middle of a crowd.
there, he closes his eyes and focus on the thrum that courses through his body. wei wuxian touches the ribbon around his own wrist and concentrates on how his bondmate is feeling and where he might be. after a moment he opens his eyes and forces himself to walk in that direction, letting his heart be his divining rod.]
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he doesn’t immediately find him, but his blood pounds hotter the closer he thinks he gets, gentle notes in the back of his skull. it’s a bit like music, a unique melody he already knows by heart, and sure enough, wei wuxian comes into sight in all his splendid glory, facing the opposite way. lan wangji stops. gasps quietly, a buzz under his skin. he walks closer, strangely unbothered by all the strangers surrounding him. and he smiles. faint, tender. a private little thing.
wei ying. he doesn’t say it, his name only resonating in his mind. and he waits. )
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he spins, hearing his name but not realizing that it wasn't lan wangji's lips that spoke it. he breaks into a bright smile at the sight of him, and maybe just gives a happy little hop.]
Lan Zhan! It's like we're still connected by that spell I came up with all those years ago! Remember the one? The one I couldn't decide on a name for?