acrookedpath | [pfsb]

[pfsb]

Lan Zhan, he writes, I'm swimming in the lake! I love you -- Wei Ying. After a moment's thought, Wei Wuxian adds a smiley face to the bottom like Madam Bar so often does with her napkin notes.

It's unseasonably warm today, more early summer than late fall. The trees have dropped enough of their leaves that Wei Wuxian knows such days will depart for good soon enough. And frankly, if he stares at his latest iteration of the energy-revealing array much longer, his eyes will cross and stick that way. He needs to clear his head.

After leaving one copy of the note in their room and another with Madam Bar, he requests some swimming attire; she provides a black short-sleeved shirt much like the one he wore to London Above, the fabric smooth as silk but much stretchier, and loose red trousers that end just above his knees. A little revealing for a lake shared by many, perhaps, but they'll do.

He changes in the public washroom and walks to the shoreline. Stepping onto one of the larger rocks, he eyes the water with a smile.

Then he backs up, sprints forward to spring off the rock, and cannonballs into the lake with a loud whoop.

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It does. Wei Wuxian nods against his head, the small ache beneath his ribs growing.

"Then I will be here." He runs his palm down Lan Zhan's back; the pale Gusu Lan ribbon tied to his wrist looks like a flash of moonlight against the dark fall of his hair. "Safe in our room, with you."

He turns his face back into Wei Ying’s shoulder, holding him closer.

“It does not happen often. Not any more.”

Muffled, a little, but audible.

"I know," he whispers, even as his heart fractures. "I am glad it's rarer than it was."

He wraps his arms more securely around Lan Zhan, as if to shield him from another encroaching nightmare.

He nods, very slightly, and lets himself be held.

He returns to smoothing his hand along Lan Zhan's hair. The tea cools; the incense burns lower.

Softly, after a short time, he begins to speak again. It is the same musing aloud that Lan Zhan has heard from him countless times: there is an idea I have, but I cannot grasp the shape of it yet. As a written talisman brings something new into existence, so Wei Wuxian's murmuring helps to carve the idea.

This time, though, it is more than that. It is also continued reassurance: I am still here. I have plans for works not yet completed.

I am not going anywhere.

He listens, his head resting on Wei Ying’s shoulder, arms around him. Occasionally, he murmurs a soft sound of encouragement; sometimes, he asks a question.

Each time, more than the words themselves are said.

I am here, too. I am paying attention. You matter to me.

I love you.

It drifts, as conversation does -- even one-sided conversation such as this. New people he has met. New things he is finding at the inn, even now. (There is an enormous stone room underneath the common area he'd never known about until someone mentioned it: it holds row after row of machines, as far as the eye can see, cars and motorcycles of London Above but also mechanical men taller than the steps of Koi Tower. He did not wander far, but perhaps they can explore it together sometime.) Talk of London Above naturally circles to him singing a few bars of a song, muffling laughter against Lan Zhan's hair as he recalls the enthusiasm of the karaoke performers: Strangers, waiting, up and down the boulevard --

Of course he has to explain why he's laughing, then. And sing a little more of the melody for Lan Zhan.

Then another one, as he remembers a deeply heartfelt performance from a young woman not long before he and Ingress moved on to the next bar.

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the earth for you
To make you feel my love...

The lyrics to this particular song, sung softly in Wei Ying's voice, reach deep within him and take root.

His fingers are trembling, just a little, as he raises one hand to cradle his cheek, stroking his thumb back and forth over the delicate arch of bone.

Slowly, gently, Lan Wangji leans up to kiss him.

Wei Wuxian cups the back of his head as he returns the kiss, sweetly.

When it breaks: "I will learn the rest of that one," he murmurs with a smile. "It may not be a song for us you wrote years ago, but I will still sing it whenever you wish."

Sudden tears sting his eyes at the sweet, loving promise, catching him completely off guard.

Overwhelmed, undone, he buries his face in Wei Ying’s shoulder once more, letting his own hair fall forward to hide him.

"Ah, Lan Zhan -- "

A little startled, Wei Wuxian quickly rights himself and wraps Lan Zhan in another tight embrace.

"It's all right. I'm here -- don't cry. Was that too much?"

He shakes his head, not ready to look up yet.

“No,” he tries to reassure. “Not - not too much. I, I just—“

"All right."

He threads his fingers through Lan Zhan's hair, trying to coax him back into relaxing.

Quieter, he repeats: "It's all right, Lan Zhan. You do not have to say anything."

“Not too much,” he says again. Stubbornly.

Lan Wangji draws a deep breath and sits up, meeting Wei Ying’s eyes.

“I just. Never — this. Was never possible. Not even to dream. And now...”

He draws another careful breath, making himself stay steady.

“You. Beautiful, wonderful, kind, caring. Here. You.”

He breaks into a grin, as surprised as it is radiant. Lan Zhan's face blurs a little as his eyes sting; rather than wipe away his own tears, Wei Wuxian draws his thumb beneath Lan Zhan's eyes, first one, then the other, to catch the dampness before it falls too far.

"That is what happens when I fall in love with you," he says. "I stay. I care for you."

“Wei Ying.”

Softly, softly said, with all the love in his heart singing in the name.

He leans forward and kisses him again, gently, resting one hand against the back of Wei Ying’s neck as he does.

He tightens his embrace a little more, returning the kiss, a small shiver racing up his back at Lan Zhan's touch.

"I love you," he whispers when they part. "And I will always be here. Part of your best dreams, so you will not be alone with any nightmares."

“You are everything to me,” he whispers, against his lips. “Stay forever, Wei Ying. I love you.”

"I will."

He hardly needs to move at all to kiss Lan Zhan again, fingers threading back into his hair.

Ciri's prophecy continues to nudge the back of his mind, like a pebble caught between his shoulder blades as he tries to sleep. But it is as Lan Zhan said: they have been warned, now. They can take the cares they need. If it is a truly serious threat -- and not, as Wei Wuxian still mostly believes, a twisting of words to make them more afraid than they should be -- then it will not be a surprise attack sprung in the night.

We will not be parted.

He kisses him back, then pulls him closer and tries to coax him to rest his head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

“You must be tired.”

"Not too much," he protests, lightly, even as he lets Lan Zhan guide his head onto his shoulder. "Anyway, you know I am glad to stay awake with you."

“I know.”

He kisses his hair.

“Sleep, Wei Ying. Let me hold you in my arms, while you do.”

"Are you certain?"

He tips his head enough to look up at Lan Zhan.

"You'll be all right?"

“Yes,” he says, and leans down to kiss him again.

“You are here. You are safe. I will be all right.”

"All right," he murmurs. "Then here, we should move this away..."

He pulls free of Lan Zhan just enough to gather the tea tray and shuttle it to the floor.

[pfsb]

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