[ Lan Zhan's blood runs cold. Sixteen years. So Wei Ying had known of his feelings, even at a time when he had barely understood them himself. He had spent much of his youth refusing to believe he could fall to such folly, that he might be weak to someone as joyously frivolous as Wei Wuxian. Looking down at the face he loves, noting the strain of the clenched jaw and sparking anger in his eyes, Lan Zhan tightens his hold on Wei Ying's hands. He had let go once before at a similar standoff, he will not make the same error twice. The weight of Wei Ying's presence in his life hadn't been felt until it lifted with his absence, and it's the terror of being left with that same jagged void in his heart that compels him to push, take, demand.
As Wei Ying leans against him, Lan Zhan relaxes his grip and straightens his spine, desperate to offer Wei Ying some comfort even as he strips it away in search of an answer if not reciprocation. It's true that he's being unfair by demanding so much of him so soon, but if Wei Ying had known, surely he would have guessed this time would come. He may have underestimated Lan Zhan's determination for it is newly born with the rebirth of his fated one. A part of him died with Wei Wuxian, the delicate bird raised in a cage and fearing freedom. Then, with the sacrifice of Mo Xuanyu, a tiger had been born in Lan Zhan's heart, pacing in its prison, searching for the opportunity to escape and claim its prey. ]
You do not have to face this new world alone.
[ Wei Ying doesn't have to do anything alone, and yet he so often tries to take the weight of the world on his narrow shoulders. Lan Zhan has long wondered why—ill-fated heroism, fear for his loved ones, a death wish. Whatever the cause, Lan Zhan wishes he were allowed to be the cure.
Sighing, a soft release of air through his nose, he releases Wei Ying's hands. But it's not to move away, not to allow any measure of distance between them. His arms wrap around Wei Ying, one across his waist and another enveloping his shoulders. Embracing him, entwining them, binding him to Wei Ying. ]
no subject
As Wei Ying leans against him, Lan Zhan relaxes his grip and straightens his spine, desperate to offer Wei Ying some comfort even as he strips it away in search of an answer if not reciprocation. It's true that he's being unfair by demanding so much of him so soon, but if Wei Ying had known, surely he would have guessed this time would come. He may have underestimated Lan Zhan's determination for it is newly born with the rebirth of his fated one. A part of him died with Wei Wuxian, the delicate bird raised in a cage and fearing freedom. Then, with the sacrifice of Mo Xuanyu, a tiger had been born in Lan Zhan's heart, pacing in its prison, searching for the opportunity to escape and claim its prey. ]
You do not have to face this new world alone.
[ Wei Ying doesn't have to do anything alone, and yet he so often tries to take the weight of the world on his narrow shoulders. Lan Zhan has long wondered why—ill-fated heroism, fear for his loved ones, a death wish. Whatever the cause, Lan Zhan wishes he were allowed to be the cure.
Sighing, a soft release of air through his nose, he releases Wei Ying's hands. But it's not to move away, not to allow any measure of distance between them. His arms wrap around Wei Ying, one across his waist and another enveloping his shoulders. Embracing him, entwining them, binding him to Wei Ying. ]
Split it. Fill it. I will remain.