Lan Wangji wakes with the jarring sensation of displacement.
There is no transition, no surfacing of consciousness. Instead, waking is like a laceration, where in one moment he believes himself to be at one place and time, and in the next, he is cut from it and abruptly transposed into somewhere entirely different. His mind is reeling with the suddenness of the shift from horror to home, but he tries to stay absolutely still and quiet.
To no apparent avail, as it turns out.
"Lan Zhan…" Wei Ying calls groggily, his words heavy with sleep and a half-suppressed yawn. "Lan Zhan, were you dreaming again?"
Lan Wangji feels the body next to his shift in the bed. Wei Ying is as restless in his sleep as he is while awake, and sometime during the night he has rolled away slightly, but now he is turning back, rolling over and tucking himself close to Lan Wangji with a contented sigh.
Was he dreaming? Yes. Does he intend to tell Wei Ying this, and by doing so, wake him up? Certainly not. It is bad enough that he himself is awake, without bothering Wei Ying, too.
He stares up at the ceiling of the Jingshi, although the room is much too dark to make out anything at all. He knows what it should look like, though, and he knows the feel of the silk linens against his skin and the fragrant smells of tea and incense from within the rooms, and the scent of the very air of Cloud Recesses, heavy with water and greenery. It is familiar and comforting and-
"Lan Zhan" Wei Ying complains sleepily against his chest, "your heart is beating really fast."
It is, but Lan Wangji is not thinking about that, or about how rapid and shallow his breathing is. He is thinking about tranquillity, and about emptying his mind, and absolutely not about-
He gasps at the image from the nightmare, flashing in front of his eyes like the glare of a sword, and maybe he tenses or maybe he makes some other sound, or maybe he just cannot mask the jolt of pain stabbing through his body, because Wei Ying snaps awake.
"Lan Zhan!" he exclaims as he jerks awake, leaning up on one arm, the other hand already reaching for Lan Wangji's hand. "Lan Zhan, please, I can tell something's wrong!"
He would like to shake his head or say no, but lying is forbidden and he does not ever want to lie to Wei Ying anyway, so instead he stays still and silent, and squeezes Wei Ying's hand.
Which Wei Ying, naturally and entirely correctly, interprets as affirmative.
"Stupid, stupid man" Wei Ying scolds in an infinitely soft sigh, and returns the squeeze before he lies back down on his side, fitting himself so closely to Lan Wangji's side that not even air could come between them. "You should have just said so. Was it a nightmare?"
"Mn."
"Will you tell me about it?"
"Nightmares indicate weakness in soul and cultivation both" Lan Wangji says, taking some comfort in repeating this old precept. "It is not something to speak about."
"Bah" Wei Ying huffs in protest, and a warm breath of air shrouds Lan Wangji's shoulder for a moment. "That's rubbish."
Their hands are still interlocked, fingers entwined, and Wei Ying is so definitely present, so here. Warm and brash and loud. Here. Not gone. Not. Gone. And Lan Wangji should not think about the nightmare where he was.
"Lan Zhan, nightmares aren't a weakness. And even if they were, which they aren't, shouldn't you still share them with me? We share everything else."
"No."
"Why not?"
He can hardly refuse to answer, and he cannot lie. And Wei Ying is right: they share everything. These rooms, this bed, night hunts and meals and kisses beyond measure, but even more than that, they share memories and truths and fears. Lan Wangji still finds it difficult at times, to speak his mind and put his feelings and desires into words, but ever since Wei Ying returned, he has made a conscious effort do so. To be sure, with the exception of his brother, no one reads him as well as Wei Ying does, but he knows that it is not enough. He must speak, too, because there can be no room for misunderstandings between them, not anymore. And so, even if it makes little difference in the darkness, he turns his head to Wei Ying. He is all shadow, impossible to make out, and Lan Wangji wishes there was a lamp, or candle, some light however small to illuminate the man next to him.
"Painful" he says.
It is the closest he can come to an explanation. His body is still rushing with the aftereffects of the nightmare; his heart rate is elevated, his breathing quick and shallow, but being awake is lessening those reactions, and they would go away even faster if he could bring himself to meditate. But to talk about the dreams, to invite those horrors into this bed, their bed, is the last thing he wants to do.
Wei Ying is quiet for a moment, but his thumb strokes gentle circles over Lan Wangji's skin and Lan Wangji finds himself focusing on that one point of touch. It is almost meditative, at least for the half minute or so before Wei Ying speaks.
"Don't you think it's painful for me to know that you're suffering?" he asks quietly, and his words are like another stab into Lan Wangji's chest. "Do you think that I don't care that you wake up at night, afraid and in pain, and refuse to tell me what's wrong?"
Lan Wangji swallows. Of course not! He knows that Wei Ying cares, that he would do anything to remove any pain or hurt, but these are dreams! What can he possibly do about them when even the most impossible thing, the one he did accomplish, to come back, is not enough?
"Not real" he whispers, distraught to find how hoarse his voice is. "Just dreams."
Wei Ying shakes his head; Lan Wangji can feel it.
"Only they're not, are they?"
"… no" he admits with a sigh.
Wei Ying's lips press against his chest.
"Please, Lan Zhan" he says quietly, speaking the words directly into Lan Wangji's skin, "I want to know what's hurting you. Please, tell me."
Wei Ying never begs, but he is pleading now, and it has been many years since Lan Wangji could deny him anything.
"Sometimes, the fire" he says, turning his gaze to the ceiling once more. It is not what he dreamed of tonight, but he can imagine the flames without even trying: their bright yellow and orange tongues lapping at the wood and paper and textiles, engulfing entire houses, devouring books and paintings in its ferocious feast. He remembers the smell of burning ink, the white-hot sear of his broken leg and the roar of the fire, the screams of his fellow disciples and elders, those still alive to see the horror of their sect turning into nothing but ashes on the wind.
"How much was destroyed?" Wei Ying asks. "I never thought to ask before. So much looked the same when you brought me back here."
"All but some of the structures" Lan Wangji answers, tasting the smoke in his mouth but grateful that Wei Ying knows him well enough to know which fire haunts him in the dead of night. "Some remote rooms were spared, all else burned."
"You saw it?"
He nods.
"Before they dragged me away" he says. "Wen Chao."
Wei Ying growls.
"If I hadn't killed him already, I'd drag him out of the ground and kill him all over again" he grumbles, and although Lan Wangji feels perfectly safe being enveloped in this man's arms, for a moment, the threat and menace in his zhiji's voice is just as potent as it ever was seventeen years ago.
"You did kill him" he points out.
"That I did" Wei Ying agrees with a note of satisfaction to his voice, and then adds: "He deserved it."
"Mn."
Silence falls for a few moments, and Lan Wangji is certain that their minds revolve around similar memories. Not the flames, perhaps, although Lan Wangji can almost feel the heat of them on his skin, but of even darker times, and even darker deeds.
"For what he did to you and your sect" Wei Ying murmurs, "as much as for what he did to the Jiang sect and in Qishan… I could never have let him live. Even if you hated me for it."
"No."
"No?"
"Not hated" Lan Wangji corrects him, because the distinction is important. "Feared for."
"…not 'afraid of'?"
"Only of losing you."
Wei Ying chuckles sadly, and his fingers claw lightly at Lan Wangji's chest, right above his heart.
"What else?" Wei Ying asks. "You said you dream of the fire some nights. What are your other nightmares about?"
Lan Wangji had hoped – in vain, it turns out – that Wei Ying might forget about his question. Little desire though he has to speak about Cloud Recesses burning, or Wen Chao, or finding out that his zhiji had taken up demonic cultivation, he wants to speak about his nightmares even less.
Still, it is becoming clear that he is not getting away without answering, so he picks another memory that often resurfaces in his dreams.
"Xuanwu cave."
"Oh?" Wei Ying sounds faintly amused, but not mocking. Fond. Reminiscing. "Yeah, that was one scary monster."
Lan Wangji shakes his head once.
"Not that" he says, although he remembers it vividly.
If he were to close his eyes right now, he would be able to see the cave again, as clearly as though he was back there. He could see the walls, slick with moisture, and taste the stink of death and blood in the putrescent air, but it is neither the monster itself nor its cave that sometimes wake him drenched in cold sweat in the middle of the night.
"I see you climb into its shell, and I cannot follow. I see it almost killing you, and I cannot save you. I see you almost die from your wounds and your fever, and I cannot get you out of there."
This is more than he had ever planned to divulge on this matter, and Wei Ying must be as stunned as he is himself at the torrent of words pouring out of him.
"But… you did save me." Wei Ying sounds bewildered. "You did get us out of there. Lan Zhan, you kept us alive."
Did he? No, he does not think so.
When he thinks back on those days in the cave, actually thinks through what happened, he remembers Wei Ying as the one who acted. It was Wei Ying who thought to make a fire, who made sure to take care of their wounds and who made up plans for what they would do. Granted, they both fought the Xuanwu beast, but it was Wei Ying who entered its shell; Wei Ying who risked his life again and again. For his own part, Lan Wangji had never before felt so helpless, or so at a loss for what to do. His home was burned to ashes, his father dying, his brother gone missing, and they were trapped in a cave with a monster, injured and without any food or weapons, or any real hope of ever getting out of there alive.
Still, Wei Ying accomplished the impossible, and they survived.
As for Lan Wangji, those days of horror and fear made him become conscious of two things. Although he had probably known both of them before, he only truly realised them while trapped in that cave. Firstly, that he could rely entirely on Wei Ying. That no matter how dire a situation, no matter how dangerous or disadvantageous, he could entrust his life and wellbeing to this man. Secondly, and this was a much more distressing realisation: that he could not envision a world without him. By then, he had already known for a long time that Wei Ying was his zhiji, but seeing him unconscious on the cave floor, he had felt the force of that bond even more strongly – the horror that he could not imagine himself or even the world to go on if Wei Ying should die.
Wei Ying releases his hand and Lan Wangji startles at the loss of contact, more than he would like to admit. But Wei Ying does not move away; instead, only moments later, Lan Wangji feels his zhiji's fingers brush over his cheeks with infinite gentleness.
"Lan Zhan" Wei Ying whispers, "you still haven't told me what you dreamt tonight."
He had not even realised he was crying, but Wei Ying's caress catches fresh tears as they trickle down his cheeks.
"No" he says and shakes his head, once, twice. "No."
But the images are right there in his head, imposing themselves on his vision, forcing him to see them again and again, and he shakes his head as though he can shake the memories away. Smoke in his eyes, the stench of sulphur and death, the burn of a cut on his arm, wet blood slick on his fingers, the sharp stone cutting into his skin as he grasps-
There is a soft hiss and the yellow light of a lit candle momentarily chases away the darkness and the memories. When Lan Wangji looks up, Wei Ying is sitting next to him on the bed, his left hand still in the shape of the fire seal he has used to light the candle. It is a ludicrous waste of spiritual energy, and one Lan Wangji could not be more grateful for.
"Wei Ying-"
"I know which memory that is" Wei Ying whispers, and his smile as he looks down breaks Lan Wangji's heart. "I know that look on your face. I'll never forget it."
Wei Ying raises his right hand and it is only once he does so that Lan Wangji realises that he is holding it with his own right hand. Or, not holding. He is grabbing Wei Ying's wrist, holding on to it with all his might as though losing his grip might mean the end of the world.
He lets go instantly, but Wei Ying catches his hand.
"It's the same" Wei Ying continues, and his voice sounds distant. He is still here, though, holding Lan Wangji's hand in one of his own and raising the other to Lan Wangji's cheek. "It's just the same as that day."
Lan Wangji's breath catches. That day. With only those two words, it is as though he was back there, as though it is happening now, again, and again he is helpless to stop it.
"You fell" he whispers. "I couldn't catch you. You fell."
It is the one nightmare that returns without fail and without variation. He knows it better even than the real event, because in his nightmares, it happens over and over and over again. He throws himself through the air, impossibly catching Wei Ying's wrist with his outstretched hand. Wei Ying, who is his zhiji. Wei Ying, who just backed over the edge of a cliff and is dangling over the abyss. Wei Ying, with his broken laughter and tears streaming down his face and looking so, so exhausted.
"You told me to let go." The words come out a broken whisper.
"I know."
Wei Ying's words are as breathless as Lan Wangji's are, and in the glow of the candle light, Lan Wangji can see that his eyes, too, are wet.
"I couldn't…" Lan Wangji closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I couldn't catch you."
"Come here, Lan Zhan."
The words are spoken so quietly, Lan Wangji is not sure they are spoken at all. He still acts on them though, and follows the guidance of a hand on the back of his head and another hand interlocked with his, pulling him up and close and into the arms of the man he once lost forever.
"I should never have asked that of you" Wei Ying says, hugging him so closely his lips are right by Lan Wangji's ear. Lan Wangji's own arms stay between them, caught, and he finds that he is shaking.
"I lost you" he says, eyes squeezed closed and his voice all atremble, too.
"I'm sorry."
"You fell."
"I'm sorry."
"You left!"
"I'm sorry."
"You pushed yourself off that cliff!" The cry comes from deep inside him, pulled out of some hidden chasm within, and his voice does not sound like him at all, but like someone younger, someone terrified, someone seeing the end of the world happen in front of their eyes but powerless to stop it. Tears stream down his cheeks and there is not enough air and he gasps: "Wei Ying. Wei Ying!"
It is as though there is an earthquake underneath his skin. He could break apart like this, with the image of Wei Ying pushing himself off of the rocks and falling, falling, down into the abyss with tears in his eyes and blood on his hands and that broken, blissful smile on his face. As if he was happy. As if death was better! As if there was nothing Lan Wangji could do or say to make him want to stay alive… Sitting here, he could shatter into a million pieces once more and the only thing keeping him together is Wei Ying's arms. They are at once both a wall and a vise, keeping him both safe and from rupturing, and although the hold is so tight it is almost painful, he feels nothing but reassured. Being held like this, there can be no doubt that he is here. Undeniably, indisputably, Wei Ying is here.
But he was gone. No body, no soul, no nothing, just gone, as if he had never existed at all! As though he had not left a hole in the world that nothing and no one could ever fill. As though he had not left Lan Wangji's heart and soul in pieces when he pushed himself out of his grip and left nothing else behind but emptiness, and more rage and pain and grief than Lan Wangji knew what to do with.
Wei Ying hugs him even harder, and they sit so closely together, Lan Wangji can hardly tell where one body ends and the other begins.
"I'm sorry, Lan Zhan" Wei Ying says. "You always say that there is no need for apologies between us, but this is something I can never apologise enough for. I should never have put you through that, and I'm so, so sorry."
And Lan Wangji cannot stand it anymore. His arms, which have been locked to his chest as though to protect something within, break out of the tight embrace. He wraps them around his zhiji's back and returns the embrace with equal strength, even as he hides his face against the crook of Wei Ying's neck, and lets the tears spill into his hair and his skin.
"Wei Ying" he mumbles, like a chant, or a prayer. "Wei Ying…"
"I'm here" Wei Ying replies. "We're both here. I'm sorry I left you. I'll never leave you again. You're stuck with me forever now, Lan Zhan."
He can tell that it is meant to be a joke, but he can hear the promise underneath. It is not a lantern sent up to the heavens to deliver prayers; it is not a hand-fasting or bowing to Heaven and Earth; it is not swearing themselves as cultivation partners. All of those promises they have made to each other hold their own significance and Lan Wangji treasures them dearly, but this is different all on its own.
He barely has time to reflect upon it though, before Wei Ying speaks with uncharacteristic hesitance:
"I think…" Wei Ying begins, "that we need to talk about this. Properly."
"No."
"Yes, we do" Wei Ying persists, although his voice is gentle in his assertion. "I don't particularly want to, but you're right, Lan Zhan. I… I killed myself. And it was not your fault and there was nothing you could have done differently, and I know that you think you failed me, Lan Zhan, but you didn't. You never failed me. But I hurt you and you're still hurting, and we need to talk about it."
Wei Ying shifts and Lan Wangji reluctantly eases his embrace to let him sit more comfortably. Wei Ying does not move away though, only raises his hands and places them one on either side of Lan Wangji's face. His eyes, as their gazes meet, are earnest and awash with emotion, and Lan Wangji could never deny him anything.
"Not tonight" he begs.
"Not tonight." Wei Ying shakes his head and smiles sadly. "Tonight, I will hold you, and touch you, and let you know in every way I can that I'm here, and I'm alive, and that I love you, and will never leave you again."
Despite himself, Lan Wangji nods, and in the next moment, Wei Ying's lips are on his, warm and soft. It is far from a passionate kiss, but it is sweet and tender, like waves lapping against shore.
"What do you need, Lan Zhan?"
The question is as open and encouraging as the expression on Wei Ying's face, leaving room for any wish or demand he could ever make, but Lan Wangji still swallows with indecision. He can barely distinguish one thought from another, one feeling from the tens or hundreds of others, and much less put any of it into speech. He has always been sparse with words, but most often it is out of choice. Now it is as though all words have dried up inside, and he cannot get even a single one out.
"There's no rush" Wei Ying says, his hands still cupping Lan Wangji's face and his thumbs brushing Lan Wangji's cheekbones and temples in featherlight strokes. Nodding, Lan Wangji closes his eyes at the touch, breathes out, and focuses at each point of contact between them. Wei Ying's hands and fingers on his face, his own hands on Wei Ying's sides. It is far from enough, so he leans in and wraps his arms properly around Wei Ying again, who returns the embrace.
Stay like this, only for a little while. Feel that you are here, that you are alive and here. That's what I need.
They are too many words, and he will never be able to get all of them out, but he focuses on one of the most important ones: how it sounds, how to shape it. One word, just one word, will be good enough.
"Stay."
Wei Ying tightens the embrace immediately, and Lan Wangji breathes out a sigh of relief. He hides his face against Wei Ying's neck and just breathes in the scents of the other man; his sweat and his warmth and a whiff of his scented hair oils. Part of him feels ridiculous for behaving like this, crying and rambling and then losing his speech and needing to be held, but another, larger part feels… content? He is with his zhiji, his cultivation partner and lover. If there is anyone with whom he can behave like this, allow himself to ask for what he needs, it is with Wei Ying.
Slowly, as they sit together in silence, the tremors in his body lessen and his breathing evens out. It is not meditation, strictly speaking, because he does not succeed in actually emptying his mind, but the nightmare imagery fades away as he breathes Wei Ying's scents and is held so closely against him. Would that he could stay like this throughout the night, holding and being held. But it is late and they both need sleep, and sitting as they do now is decidedly not a good position to sleep in.
"Wei Ying?"
"Yeah? What's on your mind, Lan Zhan?"
Wei Ying sounds tired, and Lan Wangji is pleased that he does not try to hide it. Although he does not feel entirely ready to let go and lie back down to sleep just yet, he decides to do so anyway, for Wei Ying's sake.
"We should sleep."
"Are you sure?" Wei Ying does not sound convinced, which might have something to do with the fact that Lan Wangji still has his face buried against Wei Ying's neck. Hm.
"Yes" he says, although he still cannot bring himself to move away.
"Alright."
He can hear the smile in Wei Ying's voice, and his heart is warmed by the fact that Wei Ying does not move either.
"Lan Zhan?" he says instead, after some while has passed.
"Mn."
"You know, if you want to hold me while we sleep, you can."
This statement gives Lan Wangji some pause. It takes several long moments before he understands how on earth they might go about to make something so impossible happen.
"Oh" he breathes as realisation dawns, and his chest feels a little lighter.
"You want to give it a try?"
"Yes."
"Let's lie down, then, yeah?"
It is unclear whether it is his body or his mind that is most reluctant to let go, but slowly but surely, Lan Wangji releases his embrace. Wei Ying stays close, however, and smiles and kisses him again before he lies down on the bed, on his back. Lan Wangji looks down on him for a few moments, at the spill of his hair on the mattress and his slender shoulders, able to carry much heavier burdens than one might think. The playful smile on his lips, the tiredness in the corners of his eyes, and the crook of his neck – the safest hiding place in the world.
Tentatively, he lies down too, and although he must have lain down to sleep more than ten thousand times in his life, it feels like he is doing it for the first time. Lying down on his side feels awkward and wrong and forbidden, and thank the gods for Wei Ying's guiding hands and sweet smile, or he would never find his way down – or even dare to try. But he fits here, right next to Wei Ying's side, and he can rest his head on Wei Ying's shoulder and put one arm around his waist like an anchor. Lying like this, he is not only close enough to feel the warmth of Wei Ying's body or the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, but he can hear Wei Ying's heartbeats. Strong and slow and regular, and irrefutably alive.
"Is it good?" Wei Ying asks, and although his voice is low, it carries a faint rumble beneath the skin just underneath Lan Wangji's ear.
"Yes" Lan Wangji replies with a sigh. "Good."
As he breathes out, he can feel the weight of his tiredness settle down on him once more. Sleep is already here to claim him, and he is willing to surrender, if he can stay like this only for a little while longer.
"Hey, Lan Zhan?"
"Mn."
His usual sound of acknowledgement comes out a little softer, a little more dragged out than usual, and Wei Ying chuckles.
"Do you have any good memories of me then?" Wei Ying asks, and maybe it is only Lan Wangji's mind making things up that are not truly there, but is there not more in Wei Ying's voice than just the joke he tries to present the question as? "Of some time when you didn't hate me and we didn't fight and hurt each other."
"Mmm" he hums, trying to collect his memories enough to shape at least one of them into words. "I would see you from the library. You were with others. Always with others."
He wonders if his jealousy from back then is audible in his words now. Judging from how Wei Ying's fingers begin tracing lazy circles in his hair and on his scalp, perhaps it is.
"You were making jokes. Loudly."
"How else would you make them?" Wei Ying asks fondly, but it is clearly a rhetorical question, as he continues: "What happened?"
"You looked up. Saw me."
"Did I smile and wave at you like crazy and call your name?"
"Mmm."
"Did you like it?" Wei Ying sounds pleasantly surprised. "Even if only a little?"
"Yes." The admission is long overdue, but it feels good to speak it. "Some days, I see you across a courtyard or on another path, and you look up and see me."
"I still wave at you and call your name."
"You do."
"And you like it." There is a definite smugness to Wei Ying's voice, but Lan Wangji does not mind in the least.
"I do."
He lets out a breath and closes his eyes. He is in his bed in the Jingshi, with the silk linens against his skin and the scents of tea and incense from within the rooms. In his mind, he can hear running water and chirping birds, and a voice as warm as the sunlight, calling his name with a laugh, and his heart is warmed by the sure knowledge that this is neither a memory nor a dream. Wei Ying is right here beside him, warm and alive and full of laughter, and he will never leave again.
This, Lan Wangji thinks as he slowly drifts back asleep, is all he will ever need.
A/N: If Sizhui is the cutest duckling, then Lan Zhan is the one who most deserves a hug. And who better to give him one than Wei Ying?
As I wrote in the end notes of the first chapter, the concept of nightmares is one I've been wanting to explore further with several different characters. I still have ideas for more stories, but I'll be happy for any suggestions or other feedback you want to share with me in the comments! As for this chapter, I hope you have enjoyed Lan Zhan's story and, if you are reading this close to the original publishing date of the chapter (December 23rd, 2020), I wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy holiday season!
