Today is almost over. Wei Ying has been allowing this week to drag him on, getting through each day because it's the only thing he can do. The winter gloom outside does nothing to help. Everywhere is grey, lifeless, and empty. All of his lessons blur into one memory he'll have forgotten come evening. In front of him, his students' blank faces are exactly what he feels and he has no energy left in him to bother changing that.

He looks at the clock on the opposite side of the room. Less than an hour left until today is done. What a pain.

Rambling on, he makes the students copy useless paragraphs onto their books. If only he had the energy to actually make this fun for them—but he doesn't. These days, it feels like all he does is wake up, do something in between, sleep, have bad dreams. Rinse and repeat. Is he finally reaching a mid-life crisis? He's only thirty-three, can't it wait for another twenty years?

There's only half an hour left of class when a soft knock breaks him away from his thoughts. Wei Ying raises his head, frowning at the receptionist that's standing by the doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt, but could I speak to Jin Ling please?” she asks.

Wei Ying turns to Jin Ling. “Is something wrong?”

The receptionist only shakes her head. “He'll have to leave school early today. Please get your things, Jin Ling. Your uncle is already here.”

Her voice sounds serious. Wei Ying knows this receptionist; not her name, but he knows what she's like. Whenever he walks past her, she's always gossiping or slacking off. It's weird to hear her sound like this.

His frown deepens. He stares at Jin Ling who is glancing between him and the receptionist. For once, he's not scowling at Wei Ying. His eyes are wide, confused, and all it does is make him look much younger. After a while, he slowly begins packing his things.

Wei Ying says nothing as Jin Ling stands. He watches him leave the class, unable to shake off this feeling already festering in his chest. There's only half an hour left until school is over for today. Jiang Cheng's shift doesn't even finish yet. Whatever it is, it must be serious.

He can only think of one thing. The rest of this lesson is a blur.

It gets worse once the day is over. He should be going home, he should be thankful for what little time he has to rest. Instead, he can't get it out his head that something bad has happened and he needs to know—but how? Who can he even ask? There has to be a reason Jin Ling got called out of class.

Wei Ying can't go home. Instead, he does something stupid and reckless and hopeless, but it's the only thing he can do. He goes to Jiang Cheng's apartment, waiting outside the entrance and screaming at himself for even thinking of this in the first place.

He doesn't know how the fuck he can get inside. There's no way Jiang Cheng is going to let him in—there's no way he will talk to him. This is stupid. This is pathetic.

But he can't give up. How is he supposed to walk away, knowing that something could be happening? How is he supposed to ignore that? Wei Ying paces outside the apartments, trying to think, trying to calm down. No matter how much he convinces himself he's being paranoid, his heart pounds against his ribs and all he remembers is Jiejie, Jiejie, Jiejie.

What is he supposed to do? What can he do?

He looks up at the block of apartments in front of him. It's nothing like the place he lives in. This actually looks like somewhere you can live in, as opposed to the Burial Complex where it looks like a garbage dump instead.

He doesn't even know Jiang Cheng's number—and if he does, what is he supposed to say? Hey, it's Wei Ying. I know you hate me but can you tell me what the fuck is going on because I'm about to lose my shit? That's really going to go down well.

Wei Ying must have spent about twenty minutes just standing out here looking like an idiot. Part of him is contemplating the consequences of breaking into this place, but sadly the security here looks like it works, unlike Burial Complex. He also doesn't think Jiang Cheng, a policeman, is going to appreciate Wei Ying trespassing into his home.

This isn't working out at all. He's kidding himself if he thinks—

Wait.

Who's that?

He squints his eyes, spotting the unmistakeable long hair. Lan... Zhan?

Wei Ying sees him getting out of his car—only it doesn't look like the usual car he drives. Lan Zhan normally drives a white car; something expensive looking and a model that Wei Ying has never bothered to learn. This car he has now is dark blue, still equally expensive by the looks of it, but Wei Ying is confused as to why it's different. How many cars does he have? Is he so rich that he switches them up everyday?

And why is he here?

He's so confused that he doesn't bother moving. He stands there, arms folded, and watches as Lan Zhan heads for the entrance. Eventually, he stops in front of him. When he spots Wei Ying, he blinks a few times before flashing him a blinding smile.

Okay, now Wei Ying is even more confused. He shuffles his feet, unable to keep the surprise off his face. Lan Zhan? Smiling? If he smiles any more, Wei Ying thinks his face might break.

“Teacher Wei?” Lan Zhan calls out. “What are you doing here?”

Oh. That doesn't sound like Lan Zhan at all. Lan Zhan's voice is deep and husky. This one is softer, friendlier. It suddenly dawns on Wei Ying this isn't the music tutor at all. He relaxes, remembering that Lan Zhan has a brother who looks exactly like him. This must be him then.

“Lan Zhan's brother...?” he asks. “I'm sorry, I forgot your name.”

Lan Zhan's brother doesn't look offended. In fact, his face warms up more. It's strange how one smile can completely transform a person. Even though they look like mirror images of each other, staring at this man now, Wei Ying would never mistake him for Lan Zhan at all.

“Please call me Xichen,” he says.

Wei Ying nods. He turns to the apartments, and then back at Lan Xichen.

“You live here?”

“Yes.”

Huh. What a coincidence.

“Can you let me in? I need to talk to Jiang Cheng—you know, that guy who arrested you.”

The smile on Lan Xichen's face wavers. “Yes, I know him.” He opens his mouth to say something else, but decides against it.

“Of course,” he says. He walks over to the entrance and finally, finally unlocks it. “Is there something the—”

“What's his room number again?”

Lan Xichen's eyebrows furrow. “Seventy-five.”

“Thanks.”

Just like that, Wei Ying is gone, ignoring the hint of suspicion on the older man's face.

As the elevator gets closer and closer to the right floor, Wei Ying's stomach lurches. He's not sure if it's because he's dreading talking to Jiang Cheng again, or it's because he's scared of what he'll find out. He just knows that, either way, this meeting isn't going to go very well. At all.

By the time he's standing outside room seventy-five, he wants to be sick. He takes a deep breath and knocks.

The door opens too soon. Jiang Cheng's eyes widen for a fraction of a second before they narrow and become cold. Wei Ying hates this. He hates throwing away his pride to literally come begging outside Jiang Cheng's door. But it's all he can do. There's no other choice.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng demands.

Wei Ying does his best to keep eye contact. “Has something happened?”

“I asked you a question! Why are you here? Fuck off!”

Jiang Cheng shuts the door—or at least he tries to. Wei Ying is faster. He grabs the door and puts himself between it, flinching at how close Jiang Cheng becomes. If he wants to, he could hit him. Wei Ying can already see it happening.

“Not until you tell me if something's happened!” Wei Ying says. He keeps his grip on the door, watching as Jiang Cheng's patience runs even thinner.

“It's none of your business! You don't have any right to come here and harass me!”

“So something has happened? They took Jin Ling out of school earlier—”

“I told you to fuck off. We have enough to worry about without you coming back when you're not wanted!”

There's a sudden pain in his chest as Jiang Cheng shoves him. Wei Ying flinches, grabbing the officer's wrist in time before he can push him off.

“Tell me if Jiejie is okay! I need to know!”

His hands are shaking. He tries to search Jiang Cheng's eyes for any sign of weakness. Please, just this once, listen to me. I'm sick of fighting. I'm sorry.

There's nothing. Jiang Cheng looks at him as if he's the most disgusting thing he's ever seen. He snatches his hand away.

“You don't need to know anything!” he yells. “Why are you always trying to come back to our lives when you've done enough!”

Wei Ying grits his teeth. He doesn't know what else Jiang Cheng wants him to do. Does he want him to go down on his knees and literally beg him? Does he want him to cry? What can he do to fix all this? Is there anything left for him to do?

Nothing, nothing, nothing. You've done enough.

“I know! I know you hate me! I know what I've done! Don't you think I blame myself everyday too?!”

The more he speaks, the harder it is to think. He doesn't want to cry—he won't cry. Not in front of Jiang Cheng. He hasn't cried in so long, he won't start now.

Jiang Cheng sneers. “What good is that going to do? Nothing you say will ever fix anything.”

Wei Ying wishes he can shake him. He wishes he can say everything; all the regrets that have plagued him since that day, all the apologies he knows will never be enough. He wishes he can say something that will reach Jiang Cheng.

“I know that,” Wei Ying mumbles. “You don't think I spend everyday wishing I died instead of your parents? That I never hurt Jiejie? Jiang Cheng, you don't need to remind me because I know.”

His voice cracks halfway. He's long thrown his pride out the window. He keeps his eyes on Jiang Cheng, letting the hatred on his face sink in.

“I just... Can you please just tell me if Jiejie is okay?” he begs. “Please, Jiang Cheng. Please.”

He can hear Jiang Cheng breathing harder. The seconds pass by painfully. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight... He doesn't know what he'll do if Jiang Cheng refuses him this. All he needs to know is that Jiejie is fine, that he hasn't ruined everything again. It's Wei Ying's last hope.

Please. Please let her be okay. Once she's okay, I can go. I'll leave. I promise. I'll go away so that no one will ever see me again.

“No, she's not,” Jiang Cheng says. “She's getting worse. The doctors don't know if she's going to make it by the end of the week. Is that what you want to hear?”

Jiang Cheng may as well have hit him. By the end of the week. It's Wednesday now. That's not enough time. It's been years—she's been in hospital for over ten years and Wei Ying has spent every day of it praying she'll recover, that he hasn't lost her as well. He can't lose her too.

He shakes his head. “She's... She's going to be okay.”

Jiang Cheng pushes him again. This time, Wei Ying lets himself stumble back.

“You... This is all your fault! Why are you even here! Why do you even care!”

Why do you even care?

Why is that a question? Why can't he care about the family that raised him up? Why is he not allowed to cherish the memories he still has of them, even though he knows how much he's done? Is he not allowed to even have this? Is he so horrible?

He clenches his fists. “Of course I care! She's my sister too!”

Jiang Cheng's eyes widen. “No, she's not! She's my sister! Just like how they were my parents and they're gone because of you!”

Wei Ying flinches. Their smiling faces flash in his mind—and then—gone, replaced by blood, by everything he's caused. He wants to cover his ears and close his eyes, but Jiang Cheng is right.

“Wasn't it enough that my dad always preferred you!” Jiang Cheng continues, slamming his fist against the door. “Wasn't it enough that you always got the attention! Do you have to take everything away from me!”

Jiang Fengmian's face appears before him, reaching out a hand. He takes it, only six years old, and forces a smile on his face despite the tears that have dried on his cheeks.

It's okay, A-Ying, you're safe now. I'll take care of you.

“I never... I never meant... I'm sorry—”

His words are cut off as Jiang Cheng grabs him by the collar, pulling him inside. He slams him against the wall, and there's pain as Wei Ying's head collides with the hard surface. For a second, he sees stars, and then there's Jiang Cheng's face inches in front of him, livid, shaking. The hand around his throat is loose. Wei Ying almost wishes he would squeeze tighter.

“Sorry. Isn't. Enough.” Jiang Cheng spits out.

Wei Ying can barely him through his own heartbeat. He doesn't move—he can't.

There's the sound of footsteps behind them. In the corner of his eyes, he sees a smaller figure getting closer.

“Stop it! Just stop it! Stop fighting!”

Jin Ling. Where did he come from?

The teenager tugs at Jiang Cheng's arm, but no matter how much he cries or shakes his uncle, Jiang Cheng doesn't move an inch.

“I hate you, so much,” Jiang Cheng says. “Why couldn't it have been you! Why did it have to be my parents or A-Jie!”

Why couldn't you have died instead?

Yanli smiles, eyes downcast. She strokes Wei Ying's hair, and her voice is enough to calm all of the anxiety he's ever felt in his life.

A-Cheng says things he doesn't mean. If he says he hates you, he means the opposite. He doesn't hate you, he can never hate you. He thinks of you as his brother. You two are inseparable.

Jiang Cheng shakes him. Wei Ying's head rattles. Yanli's face, and her voice, is gone.

“Don't you have anything to say? Anything!”

What do you want me to say? What can I say?

I'm sorry?

I wish I died instead too?

Wei Ying can't let the words out. He can stay there and let Jiang Cheng yell at him, hit him. He can go, if that's what he wants. That's all he can do—he doesn't know what else is there left for him. Why is he here? Why does he think he still has a chance to fix everything he's done wrong? Why is he still trying?

Jiang Cheng's hands loosen. His breath shakes, and for a moment, Wei Ying thinks he might cry.

“You didn't even stay,” he says. “You just left! You didn't even care!”

There's a weakness in his voice that Wei Ying clings to. He shakes his head, gathering the courage to hold onto Jiang Cheng's arm.

“I care! I've always cared!”

“Shut up! Just shut up!”

Jiang Cheng is shaking him again, and this time, Wei Ying grips him by the arm. He wants to snap Jiang Cheng out of it, force him to understand that he has always cared, he has always been here and he still cares.

The floor trembles beneath him. Jin Ling is behind them, red-faced and crying.

“Stop it! Uncle! Please! I'm sick of you two always fighting!”

But they can't stop. Wei Ying is looking into Jiang Cheng's eyes and he knows there's nothing reaching him. Nothing ever will. He lets his hands fall limp by his sides, giving up.

Just hit me then, Wei Ying wants to say. Tell me how much you hate me, how much I've ruined your life. Tell me how much you wish I was dead instead.

It's what he deserves, and more. He stays there, closes his eyes and accepts everything.

Nothing happens.

“Stop it. Jiang Cheng.”

When Wei Ying opens his eyes, Jiang Cheng is no longer gripping him. He breathes out, trembling, and sees Lan Xichen in front of them.

“Let go of me!” Jiang Cheng demands, struggling against the older man's hold. Wei Ying can see the rage in him, that someone would dare interfere, that someone would actually try and stop him when he's like this. He knows how Jiang Cheng's mind works.

Still, no matter how much Jiang Cheng struggles, Lan Xichen doesn't bat an eyelid.

“Stop it,” he says again.

Lan Xichen lifts his eyes to meet Wei Ying's. There's no accusation in them, yet it doesn't stop Wei Ying from looking away. Their eye contact only lasted a brief second but Wei Ying knows what sympathy is when he sees it. He can still hear Jin Ling sobbing nearby; just a lone child who needs comfort instead of him trying to stop a fight between his two uncles.

Why are you always trying to come back to our lives when you've done enough?

Why did he come here in the first place? What good has it done? Jiang Cheng is still struggling in Lan Xichen's arms. The distance between them is worlds apart and Wei Ying needs to get it through his head that no amount of pride he throws away will ever be able to fix what he's already destroyed.

There's nothing left for him. He's lost Jiang Cheng. He's losing Yanli. It's his own fault. Everything is his fault.

Backing away, he turns and leaves like the coward he is. As soon as he steps out of the room, he runs as fast as he can, away from this place, away from everyone.

 

- x -

 

Xichen sighs, watching Wei Wuxian run out of the room. He will have to tell Wangji about this in a bit... But first...

He glances over to his side where Jin Ling is sobbing as quietly as he can. Fairy is whining by his feet, nudging him with his nose in an attempt to console the young boy. As if noticing the sudden silence, Jin Ling looks up, flinching at Xichen's gaze. He furiously rubs his eyes and throws a quick glare of his own before running off into his room.

Xichen winces at the sound of the door slamming.

“Xichen! Let me fucking go!” Jiang Cheng snaps.

He had almost forgotten he was holding him. Xichen had barely felt anything when Jiang Cheng was struggling against him.

“Calm down first,” Xichen says, still sensing anger coming from the officer. He had his suspicions when he saw Wei Wuxian outside, remembering that the relationship between the two had become hostile all the way back to their original lives.

Xichen knew nothing about their lives now, though this was enough to tell him nothing much has changed.

“You don't even fucking know anything!” Jiang Cheng says. “Don't tell me what to do!”

Sighing, Xichen stares at the closed door where Jin Ling has disappeared off to. No doubt the teenager is inside, crying.

“Jin Ling needs you,” he softly says.

That, at least, gets the officer to stop moving. His clenched fists loosen with a tired sigh of his own. Within seconds, Jiang Cheng slumps against Xichen and all of the anger dissipates from him like a demon leaving his body. All that is left is a tired shell of a man.

Slowly, Xichen releases him. Jiang Cheng does not look at him once, leaving for Jin Ling's room without a word.

Has he crossed the line? A small part of Xichen worries he is meddling into affairs that are not his own. He did not think when he rushed here. He heard the screaming, the crying, and ran as fast as he could. There was no thinking involved; he did not do it because it seemed right, he did it because was no other option. Ignoring it was unthinkable.

It is strange to see Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng still fighting with each other, even in this lifetime. If we are given a new beginning after death, then why must history repeat itself?

If Xichen were to die, would he make the same mistakes? Hurt the same people? Is there no end to such a life?

Jiang Cheng returns too soon. Xichen remains quiet, staring at the man approaching him. He wonders how many times Jiang Cheng has been reincarnated, only to retain the same hatred for his adopted brother.

It hardly seems human. The gods may as well be playing a game.

“You're still here?” Jiang Cheng asks. He is dressed in his police uniform, and just like the first time they met, he looks at Xichen with distrust and caution. Nothing like the hidden smiles he has been giving for the past few days.

“I can go, if you wish.”

“Why are you here?”

“I heard shouting,” Xichen says, as if the answer is obvious. “I wanted to see if you were in need of help.”

The frown on Jiang Cheng's face does not move. “Why do you care?”

“Is it not right to be concerned about people you know?”

“We hardly know each other.”

Xichen does not know what to say to that. It only seemed right to see if the officer was okay... They were not close, barely even acquaintances, but Xichen thought their constant meetings at least meant they were above strangers.

He has always treated everyone with the same kindness. He did not think there was anything wrong with that.

While he rarely spoke to Jiang Cheng's original self outside of sect business, Xichen thought he at least had a vague grasp of this incarnation now. They often bumped into each other in the morning, sharing a quick conversation in the elevator before heading their separate ways for work. Sometimes, they would share tea together once they returned home, listening to Jin Ling talk about what he did for school.

Xichen will admit he had grown somewhat used to Jiang Cheng's blunt behaviour. Enjoyed it, even.

He tries to smooth the frown on his face. “Perhaps,” he says, weakly. “I am sorry if I overstepped my boundaries. I shall go now.”

His steps are heavy. He does not know why but... he is disappointed? Why? Why does leaving feel so difficult?

“Jin Ling and I are going to America tomorrow.”

Xichen stops and takes a moment to understand what those words mean. He slowly turns back to Jiang Cheng.

He is looking down at his feet, refusing to meet his gaze. “My sister... Jin Ling's mother is in hospital. The doctors are saying she might not make it.”

Jiang Yanli. Xichen did not know her very well, but he had heard of her, and her death. How cruel that she must face similar hardships even in this life.

In truth, he did not know what to say. He has witnessed so many deaths that the fragility of human life has become numb to him. He has long stopped trying to reach for comfort when it comes to losing someone. Loss is inevitable, death is inevitable; humanity is privileged to know such a thing and Xichen is but a witness to it.

He searches for the right words. Everything feels empty. Meaningless.

“I am sorry. I... I don't know what to say.”

He does not mean to say it out loud, but he knows as soon as Jiang Cheng's blue eyes narrow that he should not have opened his mouth at all.

“I'm not asking you to say anything,” he spits out. “I don't even know why I'm telling you this! I don't want your fucking sympathy.”

Xichen shakes his head, wishing his immortality granted him the power to rewind time as well. “No, I did not mean... I...”

For all the smiles and kind words Xichen is constantly giving, he does not know how to comfort someone. How can he offer hope when he himself does not believe in such things?

He has never been good at offering comfort. When their mother died, Wangji asked and asked when they would see her again, and Xichen could only smile at him, tell him everything was going to be okay. How was he supposed to tell a boy of only six years that their mother was no longer there? How was he supposed to tell Wangji their mother could never tell them the stories about the stars she longed to reach out for?

I know their stories, but it is difficult to see the stars from this house. One day, I hope you boys will be able to recognise them for yourselves and know the story behind each star.

They never did. As they grew older and achieved immortality, Xichen realised the stories his mother loved so much were just that; stories. The magic and hope she weaved into those stars died along with her.

He swallows the unspoken words in his throat. He thinks instead to what he would have done, if he were given the chance to be with his mother again, or anyone he has ever lost. His sworn brothers.

“There is still hope for your sister,” he says. “Do not believe you will lose her just yet. If you are able to be with her, then go. Cherish all the time you have with the people you care about.”

“I don't need you to tell me that,” Jiang Cheng sneers. He does not understand—or maybe, maybe it is Xichen that doesn't understand. “What makes you think you can come here and tell me what to do like you know anything?”

“I wasn't... I am trying to comfort you.”

“Don't. I don't want it.”

Xichen presses his lips together.

“Don't just come into people's lives trying to help them when you know nothing,” Jiang Cheng says. “You don't know my sister, you don't even know Jin Ling. Why are you here telling me to act calm like you have any idea about what's happened? Why are you even here?”

Every word pierces straight through him. He is right, of course he is. What he knows from the past is nothing like the present now. He is treating Jiang Cheng as if he is someone he can predict and read, just because he knows who he used to be.

He is trying to help, for the wrong reasons.

Jin Guangyao suddenly grins in his head, large eyes still so innocent. Teacher Lan, what will you be teaching?

Xichen's own voice responds, unknowing of what his response would begin. He thought only of his sworn brothers, at peace with each other again. All three of them; united, as they once had been.

How about Sound of Clarity?

Xichen clutches his head, willing the voices to leave him.

If you had never taught A-Yao... If you had never tried to meddle... Mingjue-xiong would not have had to suffer. None of it would have happened. You could have stopped it.

“You are right,” Xichen says hurriedly. His breath comes short and he can no longer see Jiang Cheng in front of him. He wants the ground to swallow him whole and the voices to stop.

What is he trying to do? Why is he even trying to help Jiang Cheng? Why does he think he needs his help? Is he trying to drag more people down into ruin with him? Is he trying to hurt Jiang Cheng too? How many more must he hurt?

“Forgive me. I will leave you alone now.”

He leaves. He thinks he hears Jiang Cheng calling after him, but it's drowned out by the sound of Jin Guangyao playing the guqin. The Sound of Clarity is loud in his ears. Too loud.

 

- x -

 

Wei Ying's head is killing him. He doesn't remember the journey back home. All he can think about is Yanli wasting away in that hospital, pale and lifeless; nothing like the sister who used to carry him and Jiang Cheng on her back. By the end of the week, she could be gone. By the end of the week, everything will be over.

He can't do this. He runs away because it's all he has left to do. The bottle of vodka in his hand is already half gone and, still, it's not enough to make him forget. It's not enough to undo everything he's done. It's never enough.

He knows it's stupid drinking this much. Wen Qing is already yelling in his head, telling him he's going to die at this rate if he really tries to down the whole bottle. His only response to that is so what? It's not like he's scared of dying. It's not like he has anything he wants to do in life.

The only thing really keeping him is the hope Yanli will make it. If she can walk out of that hospital and live her life again, then Wei Ying can be at peace knowing she is happy.

Everything begins to spin. Wei Ying lays the bottle down with shaking hands, holding his head. There's a loud ringing that gets worse and worse, tearing his head apart. He groans and covers his ears, squeezes his eyes shut. It doesn't stop.

What the fuck is that?

He sits up and looks around the room. The ringing is still there.

What...

Wei Ying's eyes land on his phone. It's vibrating against the table, flashing. Oh. He picks it up and manages to make out Wen Ning's face amidst all the spinning.

“Yeah, what is it?” Wei Ying says, shaking his head in a useless attempt to steady his surroundings.

“I saw you going past the café... You looked upset.”

Even Wen Ning's timid voice is too loud for him now. Wei Ying pushes the phone away from him, dropping it back down onto the table. He turns the speakers on and slumps back down onto the couch.

He lets out a laugh. “Did I?”

“Are you... Are you okay?” Wen Ning's voice sounds more hesitant than usual.

“Am I ever okay? Does it matter?”

A sigh. “You're drunk.”

Wei Ying lays his head against the cushions. “Hmm. Like I said, does it matter?”

“Should I call Jiejie—”

“No, don't. I don't need her to yell at me right now.” Wei Ying groans, wriggling to reach for the bottle of vodka again. When he takes another swig, he has to stop himself from being sick on the spot.

Maybe he should stop. Or carry on. Does it matter?

“Say, Wen Ning,” Wei Ying slurs, shaking the bottle and listening to the alcohol slosh around. “Tell me... Tell me something. Do you ever wonder what's the point to life?”

“H-Huh?”

“Like... what's the point? You just wake up everyday, go to work, eat, sleep. That's it. Why do we bother? It's all so monotone, don't you think? What's the point?”

Silence. Wei Ying continues to shake the bottle. Part of him wants to throw it away, smash it against a wall. Part of him wants to down it all and see if it really kills him.

“I-I... You find things that make it better,” Wen Ning mutters.

Wei Ying can only laugh. “Like what?”

“People. O-Or things that make you happy?”

He doesn't know why he's laughing, but he can't stop. Wei Ying puts the bottle down again, laughing until his sides hurt, laughing until he's sure there are tears coming out of his eyes. They sting. He doesn't think it's because any of this is funny.

“You're really drunk,” Wen Ning says.

Wei Ying rubs his eyes, shaking his head. His cheeks hurt. His head hurts. Everything hurts.

“I am, I am. Silly me. Eh, it doesn't matter.”

“Be careful.”

“It doesn't maaaatter.”

“It does... Me and Jiejie care about you. We... I-I want you to be happy.”

Wei Ying freezes. He doesn't expect that, not from Wen Ning. His eyes sting even more and he rubs them, refusing to let out any tears. He forces out another laugh. Happy? Wen Ning is being too cheesy.

“Ah, I'm really drunk this time. I fucked up, Wen Ning,” Wei Ying says. Maybe drinking half a bottle of vodka wasn't such a good idea.

“I'll call Jiejie.”

“No, no, no. She's busy with work.”

“Then... please don't drink anymore.”

The rest of the bottle is right in front of Wei Ying. He wants to laugh again but he's too tired. “Maybe.”

“Wei Ying...”

“Okay, okay.”

Another sigh comes from the other line. “I... I gotta go. My break's over.”

“Okaaaay.”

“Take care...”

“Hmm.”

He doesn't know who hangs up first, but he knows he hates the silence when Wen Ning is gone. The bottle in front of him is starting to multiply, spinning in sync with all of the thoughts that refuse to leave his head. Wei Ying does the only thing he can do; he grabs it and starts drinking again.

Or he tries to. He can only take one gulp before he's lurching forward, choking at the taste. It takes all of his strength not to puke out everything in his stomach, and even then his body is shaking violently. He takes deep breaths and watches as the floor beneath him spins and spins and spins. This is stupid. He's so stupid. Why did he do this? What good is getting drunk going to do?

Wei Ying pushes the bottle away from him, uncaring when it falls onto the ground with a loud smash. He shuts his eyes, takes deep breaths. He wants to sleep. He wants to sleep and forget about everything and never wake up. He holds his head in his hands and counts all the breaths he's taken.

One, two, three.

Useless, useless, useless.

Four, five, six, seven.

I hate you so much. Why couldn't it have been you! Why did it have to be my parents or A-Jie!

Eight.

A-Xian, you… you should stop first. Don’t, don’t…

He stops counting. Jiejie? He's drunk and he knows he's hearing things but—Jiejie? But who? Who is A-Xian? She has never said this to him.

I'll stop, he wants to say. Tell me to stop. Come back and tell me to stop, please come back.

Her voice doesn't return. In the darkness, he sees a splash of crimson, a sword embedded into her neck. He sees her mouth, still parted with words she wanted to say, blood gushing out her lips.

His stomach lurches. Wei Ying's eyes snap wide open and he staggers away from the couch, almost tripping over all of the bottles of wine on the floor. The room around him is shrinking but all he sees is Yanli, dead, dead because of him.

No. No. No no no no no.

Wei Ying runs out of his apartment, stumbling and tripping down the stairs. He doesn't know where he's going—but he needs to get away. Go away. Cold wind bites at his skin and he chokes at the breaths he struggles to take. He continues to run. Anywhere, away—just away.

If he leaves and never comes back, will Jiejie be okay? Will she be happy? Will everyone be happy?

A sob breaks through him. He covers his mouth and swallows it back. He doesn't deserve to cry. Not here. Not now, not ever. He can only go away.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying shivers. He spins around, stomach heaving at every move. There's a blurred figure of white in front of him. He knows who it is without even needing to move closer.

Out of everyone, it's him. Of course it's him. Wei Ying wants to laugh, or cry, or scream. He opens his mouth to speak and nothing comes out. His knees buckle underneath him. Everything turns black, but not before he knows Lan Zhan has caught him just in time.

 

- x -

 

Wei Ying is light. Too light. He weighs nothing in Wangji's arms, and it is not because Wangji is immortal and Wei Ying is but a mere human. Wei Ying does not take care of himself, and it hurts Wangji to see him like this after all these years. Even when unconscious, his eyebrows furrow with worry and pain. Wangji pulls him closer to his chest and brings him inside the house, away from the unforgiving cold.

Sizhui is in the lounge, reading a book on the couch. He looks over his shoulder, the smile on his face dropping as soon as he sees who Wangji is carrying.

“Dad! Teacher Wei! I-Is he okay?”

“He will be fine.”

Sizhui stands up, hesitating. “Do you... Do you need me to do anything? I can make tea—”

Shaking his head, Wangji walks past him, careful not to stir Wei Ying too much.

“No need,” he says. “I will take care of him.”

He sees Sizhui nodding from the corner of his eyes. Wangji does not say anything else, carrying Wei Ying upstairs into his bedroom. He is still unconscious. One of his hands cling to Wangji's shirt, occasionally tightening in his sleep.

Gently, Wangji lays Wei Ying down on the bed, not once taking his gaze off him. When his brother called, he had said Wei Ying fought with Jiang Cheng again. His brother hung up before Wangji could ask any more questions about what happened, or why Xichen's own voice sounded so tired as well.

Wangji sits by the edge of the bed. The only sound that fills the room is the sound of Wei Ying breathing. A distant memory of Wei Ying's head resting on his lap returns to Wangji. Wei Ying was younger, shorter, and even with the fever coursing through him, he had that radiant smile on his face, the light in his eyes. Will it ever return?

A groan pulls him away from his thoughts. He stiffens, watching Wei Ying's eyelids flutter open.

For a second too long, Wei Ying only stares at the ceiling. Then, he clutches his head and struggles to sit up. Wangji is by his side in seconds, helping him.

“Lan Zhan...” Wei Ying mumbles. His eyes are not on him, they are unfocused on the bed, as if he is not entirely seeing what is in front. “Where... Where am I?”

“My home.”

To his surprise, Wei Ying lets out a low laugh. His shoulders shake; each laugh that escapes him sound more and more like choked sobs.

“Your home? You took me to your home? Your bed?”

Wangji frowns. Wei Ying finally looks up and there is a glint in his eyes that do not match his face. He is still laughing as he wraps his arms around Wangji's neck, pulling him down, down until they fall back onto the blankets. His laughter is like a siren that lures Wangji, rendering him still even as Wei Ying spreads his legs and closes the distance between their lips.

Wei Ying is quick to open his mouth, moaning and pulling Wangji closer. Everything is rushing and stopping all at once. Wangji cannot stop the tides that threaten to drown him as Wei Ying wraps his legs around his waist, sliding their lips together. He remembers the first kiss he had stolen from Wei Ying, how he had tasted so sweet, how clumsy and shy he had been.

Wei Ying's mouth is bitter. Wangji tastes nothing but alcohol with each slide of his tongue and each moan. Under him, Wei Ying's hands are nimble, trailing up his chest and unfastening the buttons of his shirt quicker than Wangji can think.

This is not how it is supposed to be.

Wangji pulls away. “No.”

Wei Ying clings to his shirt. One of his hands run through Wangji's hair, trying to push his head down again.

“Lan Zhan, fuck me,” he says, causing Wangji's heart to stop. “I don't care anymore.”

It is hard to breathe. How long has he imagined Wei Ying under him like this, begging for his touch? How long has he imagined what it is like to hear him moaning, to feel his mouth against him again? He swallows the lump in his throat and licks his lips, turning away from the sight of Wei Ying's hazy eyes.

“No,” Wangji repeats.

Wei Ying's legs wrap tighter around him. It is maddening.

“Isn't that what you want? Just fuck me, Lan Zhan!”

He brings a hand to Wangji's face and tries to turn him, but his palm is cold and sticky. His words are slurred. Does Wei Ying see him? Does Wei Ying know what he is doing?

“You are drunk,” Wangji says.

“Does it matter? Don't you want me?”

Wei Ying's voice rises, shakes. It cracks ever so slightly, and it is enough to pierce through Wangji's heart. He wants nothing more than to give Wei Ying what he wants—but not like this. Not like this.

“You... You deserve better.”

He hears Wei Ying's breath hitch. The legs around Wangji's waist loosen. When Wangji looks back at him, there are tears welling in his eyes. Wei Ying shakes his head, lips trembling.

“No... No, I don't,” he says.

Wangji wipes the tear that is falling down his cheek, gently as if a mere touch will cause Wei Ying to shatter before him. He listens to Wei Ying hold his breath, trying to contain the rest of the tears Wangji knows he has been keeping in for too long.

“Why do you care so much?” Wei Ying asks.

Because I love you. Because I have always loved you from the very beginning, from the moment you appeared and made me question everything I have ever believed in. Because I want you to be happy and I want you to be safe, even if I do not know how to help you.

He wants to tell Wei Ying everything. He wants to pour his heart to him and give him the love he deserves. But Wangji is a coward. He keeps every word to himself and pulls Wei Ying into his embrace instead. He feels him stiffening against his body—and then he breaks.

Wei Ying sobs, clutching at his back and burying his face into Wangji's chest. Every cry hurts as if Wei Ying is digging glass shards into his flesh. Wangji only holds him tighter. He does not let go, not this time.

“What am I supposed to do, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying weeps. “Why do I ruin everything? I never meant for any of this to happen!”

Wei Ying was alone when he died. He had been alone for a long time, bearing the hatred of everyone who wanted him dead. He stood tall and proud, refusing to shed the pride he always held. It was only when he began losing everyone he loved did Wangji start to see the cracks forming.

He should have been there for him a long time ago. He should have never left Wei Ying alone.

He wraps his arms tighter around him, stroking his hair. This time, he will be with Wei Ying. This time, he will make sure Wei Ying is not alone.

Wangji does not know how long they remain like that. Wei Ying cries until his sobs subside into shallow breathing. He is still clinging onto Wangji, his breath tickling his collarbones. Nevertheless, Wangji does not move. He runs his hands through Wei Ying's hair and hums their song, letting it fill the silence of the room. He wonders if Wei Ying knows this song is made for him, every note a message of love Wangji has kept for thousands of years.

Wei Ying sighs. “I don't know what I'm doing here. I shouldn't be here.”

“Rest,” Wangji says.

Please, do not leave. Do not ask to leave.

Wei Ying's hands drop from his back. He stirs, pulling himself off Wangji's chest.

“Can you... Can you stay? I-I don't want to be alone.”

His voice is small, but Wangji hears him. Slowly, he lowers both of them back onto the bed. Wei Ying freezes, uncertain. Wangji gives him a chance to pull away, to leave, and almost sighs in relief when he relaxes into his arms instead.

“I am here,” Wangji tells him.

Wei Ying says nothing more. He closes his eyes and inches closer, laying his head by his shoulder. If he comes nearer, he will be able to hear how fast Wangji's heart is pounding against his ribcage.

Wangji watches him. Eventually, the sound of Wei Ying's breathing evens and his face relaxes into the only peaceful expression Wangji has seen on him today. He sleeps, and still, Wangji holds him. He will not let go, not unless Wei Ying wants him to.

Here in his arms, Wei Ying looks fragile. Human. He has always been human, even when demonic cultivation clutched his sanity and turned him into someone Wangji could barely recognise. He has always been too human. Wangji thought he hated it; the way Wei Ying felt every spectrum of emotion he was used to controlling. Wei Ying was everything he was not, everything he could never hope to understand. He pushed it away, thinking he did not need this distraction in his life.

But he was wrong. Wangji had always thought of Wei Ying as a fool when, really, it was him all along. Wei Ying is perfect and lively and human. He is everything Wangji has missed in life and everything he could ever want.

He will not lose him, not to himself, not to anyone. Not this time.