Wei Wuxian draws his legs up to sit crosslegged on the bed, setting his hands in his lap with the cup cradled between them. He endeavors to straighten his back and breathe deep as if he were just learning how to meditate. The incense slows the jitter of his heart; he focuses on that, rather than the slight dip in the mattress from where Lan Zhan sits next to him.

Breathe. Wen Qing is quieter now, as if knowing she has left him in good hands.

(And then there is Harrow, from mere hours earlier: He is so obviously the most important person in your life. And it is just as obvious that nothing matters to him as much as you.)

Yet he can only bear so many devastations in one night. If he bares his heart to Lan Zhan and ruins everything --

He can't.

He ought to appreciate what they have while it lasts.

It is not very long before his shoulders slump again, his focus gone, and -- still without a word -- he moves closer to lean his head on Lan Zhan's shoulder, in the same companionable way he has before.