Cleveland is as suffocating as he remembers. When Wei Ying lived here, the apartment he shared with Shen Yuan was on the outskirts. The older man favoured the peace, he said, but Wei Ying favoured distractions and noise. He frequented the city often, stumbling around its dark streets and relying on strangers to bring him home. Even after all these years, he clearly remembers each club he went to; each alleyway he hid in the shadows, making out with some man or woman against the wall.

Looking back at it now, he blanches at all of the reckless decisions he made. Back then, he didn't care about what happened to him; he just wanted something to make him feel alive, even when the thought of living no longer held any worth.

As luck will have it, the hotel Zixuan booked for him is right in the heart of the city. One look outside the bedroom window and Wei Ying can easily recognise at least five places he's been to in the past; all of which don't give him any pleasant memories at all—very much the opposite, in fact.

Wei Ying turns away from the window. He's barely paid attention to the room since he entered it, too busy to worrying about what he'll do once he sees Jiejie again. And what about Jiang Cheng? What is Wei Ying even going to say to him? How is he going to face any of them?

Sighing, he stares at the room before him, not at all surprised by how fancy it looks. After all, this is Jin Zixuan he's talking about. It looks a lot like the jet they stayed in; unnecessary large and golden. Wei Ying is starting to notice the Jins have a thing for gold.

“Oh,” he quietly says, only noticing the double bed in the centre. “There's only one bed.”

Lan Zhan nods beside him, his face passive as always. Wei Ying should have asked him if he would have preferred separate rooms. They've already shared a bed twice, but there's nothing going on between them in terms of a relationship so Wei Ying doesn't want to assume.

“You don't mind sharing, do you?” he asks, then points to the couch near the window. “I can take the couch—”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “Sharing is fine.”

Wei Ying shrugs. “Okay.”

The bed is fairly large anyway. He looks at the time on his phone, wondering if he should head there now or spend a few hours resting. To be safe, he sends a quick text to Jin Zixuan, telling him he's arrived at the hotel. It's almost eleven AM; for all he knows, it's still too early to visit Jiejie.

Waiting is excruciating though. Wei Ying paces the room, waiting for his brother-in-law to reply. He feels Lan Zhan's eyes on him the whole time although he says nothing to break the silence. Several minutes pass until Wei Ying is tempted to send another text to pester Zixuan.

That's when, finally, his phone vibrates.

Wei Ying doesn't know if that gives him relief or more anxiety. The thought of seeing Jiejie now, after he's spent so many years avoiding it, is making him want to be sick. He stops pacing the room and tries his best to calm himself down. He needs to do this.

Zixuan's response makes him frown. It's Friday now; didn't Jiang Cheng say that the doctors warned them Jiejie might not make it until the end of the week? Is she okay? Is he too late?

Wei Ying wants to hits himself for that train of thought. He didn't travel all the way to Ohio just to give up on Jiejie.

“Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying looks up. He'd been quiet for so long that he nearly forgot Lan Zhan was watching him all this time. His eyes are filled with concern; he doesn't need to say anything for Wei Ying to know what he wants to ask.

“I'm fine,” Wei Ying says. “My brother-in-law just sent me a text.”

He checks the time again. Zixuan said he could visit whenever... As nervous as Wei Ying is, he doesn't think he can wait any longer here in this hotel room. If he avoids this any more than he already has, he might actually be sick from the anxiety alone. Even Lan Zhan's presence isn't doing anything this time.

“I think I'll... go visit Jiejie in an hour,” Wei Ying says.

“Are you not tired?”

“I've slept enough on the jet. I don't think I can sleep any more like this anyway.”

The journey to Ohio itself had been nice; Wei Ying spent most of it cuddling with Lan Zhan who, surprisingly, is very good at cuddling. Wei Ying will have to admit he tried his best to forget why he was on the jet to begin with. It was easier to forget he was going back to Ohio when there was still fourteen hours before their arrival. Now that he's here, he's starting to feel guilty relying on Lan Zhan for comfort.

“I will go with you,” Lan Zhan says.

“No.”

Lan Zhan's eyebrows rise.

“I mean—not yet,” Wei Ying quickly says, feeling bad. “I know I asked you to go with me but... not yet.”

It's been over twelve years since he last saw Jiejie. As thankful as he is for Lan Zhan coming all the way here, Wei Ying doesn't feel it's right for him to be there—not now, anyway. Maybe it's his own pride not wanting anyone to witness such a moment, maybe it's his guilt not wanting to accept any support for that. Whatever it is, Wei Ying knows he needs to see Jiejie alone. This is a family matter—even if Jiang Cheng has said Wei Ying no longer has a place with the Jiangs.

Wei Ying doesn't want to make things worse by bringing Lan Zhan with him. When he accepted Lan Zhan's offer to come to Ohio, he didn't think about why he wanted him by his side. It was a reckless decision on his part, mostly fuelled by his fear of being by himself.

“This is my first time seeing Jiejie ever since it happened,” Wei Ying explains.

Lan Zhan doesn't say anything, the only change in his expression being that his eyes narrow just by a fraction.

“I'll be fine,” Wei Ying insists. “But I need to do this.”

He says it to convince Lan Zhan, but he knows the only person here who needs convincing is himself.

“Maybe we can go together tomorrow, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan nods at that. “If that is what you want.”

Wei Ying doesn't know what else to say. For some reason, he wants to apologise for dragging Lan Zhan all the way here. He still has no idea why the musician has gone to so much effort to comfort him. While Wei Ying would like to think there's some attraction between both of them, he knows they don't know each other well enough for Lan Zhan to care this much.

But then again, he's not exactly an expert when it comes to these things. He spent his twenties fucking just about anyone; what does he know about relationships? Or... whatever this is supposed to be. Maybe Lan Zhan is just nice and this is all in Wei Ying's head.

Tired, he falls back onto the bed and stares up at the ceiling. He feels the bed dipping a few seconds later; Lan Zhan must have sat down as well. After more long minutes of nothing but this awkward silence between them, Wei Ying sits up and frowns at the other man.

He's been quieter than usual—which is really quiet. Lan Zhan isn't the type to talk a lot and Wei Ying is slowly getting used to it; living with Wen Ning for so long has made him an expert of talking to people who don't respond back to him. Nevertheless, Lan Zhan has been staring at the wall for far too long now. It's impossible to guess what in the world he's thinking.

“Got something on your mind?” Wei Ying asks, nudging him gently.

At last, Lan Zhan turns to him, slightly frowning.

“What... happened?”

Now it's Wei Ying's turn to frown. “What happened where?”

“You have never told me... about your past,” Lan Zhan slowly says, as if searching for the right words. It's useless; Wei Ying has already frozen as soon as he understands what's being asked of him.

Wei Ying breaks eye contact, reaching for one of the cushions on the bed. He pulls at its corners, debating if he wants to reveal all the lovely details to Lan Zhan.

“I told you my real parents died and the Jiangs adopted me afterwards,” he says. “Uncle Jiang and Aunt Yu got into an accident because of me... They died as well. Now, Jiejie is in hospital, also because of me.”

“But why?”

Wei Ying digs his fingers into the cushion. “What do you mean why?”

Because I ruin everything? Because I hurt everyone I love? Why do you have to ask why?

He has to grit his teeth from saying anything more. He shouldn't take his frustrations out on Lan Zhan; just because he's anxious doesn't mean he can lash out on him. Wei Ying takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh, hugging the cushion close to his chest. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Lan Zhan is staring at him.

“Sorry,” Wei Ying mutters. “I didn't mean to raise my voice.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “There is no need to be sorry.”

Gathering the courage to look up at him, Wei Ying sees nothing but patience in his eyes. He's surprised to find the words threatening to escape him, eager to tell Lan Zhan the depressing details—but why? He's always tried to avoid getting too personal. Even Wen Qing or Wen Ning don't know everything about his life; they've seen him waste it away on alcohol and sex, but he's avoided telling them why. He doesn't want to burden anyone with his problems.

Lan Zhan doesn't say anything else. He simply waits. Wei Ying can't help but think he'll wait for however long as it takes with the way he looks at him.

Still, he can't do it. Wei Ying swallows the lump in his throat and looks down.

“I can't. I don't want to talk about it,” he says. “There's no point talking about it.”

There's no point in weighing Lan Zhan down with his life. It's enough that he offered to come with him here.

Faintly, he hears the sound of Lan Zhan sighing. He stands up, a bit too quickly, and walks over to their suitcases. It takes Wei Ying a while to see that he is beginning to unpack. Wei Ying remains on the bed, eyes fixed on Lan Zhan's back, wondering why he should feel bad for pushing him away. They're not together; they barely know each other at all. Not once have they discussed anything about what their relationship is supposed to be, despite how much they've been all over each other since Wei Ying woke up from his drunk breakdown.

With the distance between them now, Wei Ying hates himself just a little bit more for not knowing what to do in a situation like this. He doesn't want to assume anything, in case Lan Zhan isn't on the same page as he is.

Most importantly, he doesn't want to hurt him either.

“Lan Zhan,” he calls. When the musician turns around, Wei Ying swallows down the apology he nearly says again. He quickly fishes out a different topic from the top of his head, running away, as he always does. “I'm hungry. Should we get a takeaway?”

Lan Zhan nods, taking out a credit card from his wallet. “I will pay.”

How typical. Wei Ying forces out a smile and leaves the bed. “You know, I can pay too.”

“Sizhui says you are broke.”

“What the fuck?” Wei Ying says. “I give him good grades and he slanders me like this?”

And so, they end up ordering pizza to pass the time. As expected, Lan Zhan pays for everything and Wei Ying is left wondering just how much money you can earn from being a music tutor. Considering how huge his house is, it must be a lot. What kind of people is he even teaching? Celebrities?

Lan Zhan doesn't ask any more questions, and the laughter Wei Ying forces out starts to feel more natural. Deep down, his thoughts nag him to tell Lan Zhan, to trust him—trust someone for once. He's tired of keeping everything to himself; there's only so much he can bottle inside his tired body.

For someone so weak, Wei Ying is stubborn. It's easier to grin at Lan Zhan rather than form the sentences he wants to share. It's easier to tease him, laugh at his reactions, rather than admit he's scared stiff and the thought of seeing his family again is destroying him inside. When he's with Lan Zhan, it's easier to pretend he's someone else, forget about everything from his past and focus solely on how much he enjoys teasing the musician.

Too soon, the hour rushes by. Wei Ying can no longer pretend. He stands up and gathers his things, ignoring the way his hands tremble, the fact it's harder to breathe.

“I'll be back later,” he tells Lan Zhan. “Be a good boy, okay?”

Lan Zhan nods. “Take care.”

Wei Ying leaves before he can regret not asking Lan Zhan to go with him. The hotel is near the hospital; he arrives there far too quickly, staring at the same entrance he couldn't bring himself to go through all those years ago.

He's twenty two again, standing on this spot where everything is rushing back all at once.

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic! Go, just go! Turn around, run away as usual!

It would be too easy to do that; turn around, pretend he's doing this for the Jiangs when, really, he's just a coward. For a second, he takes a step backwards, considering the straightforward path before him where he runs away and numbs everything with alcohol all over again.

Then, he remembers Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, who is waiting in their hotel room; Lan Zhan, who came all the way here to Ohio because he wanted to support Wei Ying; Lan Zhan, who barely knows him, yet believes in him more than he believes in himself.

Wei Ying really is pathetic. He takes a deep breath and steps forward, pushing the doors open.

It's cold. He's instantly hit by the sterile smell so typical of hospitals. He remembers a time when he lay in a hospital bed of his own, listening to the machines around him telling him he is still alive instead of Uncle Jiang and Aunt Yu.

Wei Ying hates hospitals. He will be happy man if he never has to set foot in one ever again.

With every step he takes, he reminds himself he's actually doing this. It's a slow progress and he's walking at a tortoise's pace, but he's doing this. It's too late to run away now.

He spots Jin Zixuan soon enough. As he promised, he's waiting near the entrance, his arms folded. He gives Wei Ying a quick nod when he sees him, although there is also the unmistakable hint of shock on his face. It seems Wei Ying isn't the only one convinced he wasn't going to be able to gather the courage today.

“Wei Ying,” Jin Zixuan greets.

“Thanks for waiting,” Wei Ying says.

Jin Zixuan looks around. “Weren't you going to bring someone with you?” he asks.

“I thought it would be best if I went alone at first.”

“Ah.”

That's all he says: Ah. They both know this is for the best.

With nothing left to say, Jin Zixuan leads him through the hospital's endless corridors. Wei Ying allows his eyes to wander the different rooms he passes. There are some patients well enough to walk around by themselves, followed by relatives whose faces are lit up, all too happy with their recovery. They're gone in seconds, disappearing off into the corridors; and there will come another group of people who are not so happy, not so lucky. Wei Ying doesn't have to guess why they're like this. He can't bear to look at the people who pass by, crying, huddled together.

“How is she?” Wei Ying asks, returning his gaze to Jin Zixuan's back.

“She's getting a fever.”

He barely hears what he says. Wei Ying frowns, unable to stop himself from looking back at the same group still sobbing together in that corner. His heart lurches at the thought that could be them in a few days.

“But she'll be okay, right?” he says, quickening his steps to walk by Jin Zixuan's side. He notices the older man is glaring ahead, refusing to turn his way.

“I don't know,” is all Jin Zixuan says before he walks faster, leaving Wei Ying behind him again.

Eventually, they reach Jiejie's private room. The door is closed, as expected, and Jin Ling is waiting outside, fast asleep on his chair. Zixuan sighs upon seeing him, sitting next to his son and moving his head so that he can lay it on his shoulder. He looks up at Wei Ying and motions towards the door.

“Jiang Cheng is still inside, I think,” he says. “I'll stay out here for now.”

Wei Ying turns to the door.

What is he even scared of? Is he scared of seeing what he's done to Jiejie? Is he scared she hates him after all this time? Is he scared she doesn't? Why can't he move?

“Come on,” Zixuan says. “Just go. I'll be here if anything happens.”

If anything happens. He means if he and Jiang Cheng start fighting again—but there's no need for that. Wei Ying is tired of fighting.

He pushes the door open, unable to breathe. As soon as he steps inside, he finds Jiang Cheng sitting by the bed, holding Jiejie's hand. He doesn't look up.

It's a miracle Wei Ying can approach them. The closer he gets, the harder it is to keep his emotions in control. Jiejie is fast asleep on the bed, her breathing so shallow that Wei Ying is scared just looking at her. The last time he saw her, she was a smiling bride, radiating with joy. This woman in front of him looks nothing like the sister he's grown up with.

You did this.

Wei Ying clenches his fists and wills himself not to turn around and run out this building. He sits down opposite Jiang Cheng, who hasn't moved at all, not even acknowledging Wei Ying's arrival.

The only sounds in this room are the machines keeping Jiejie alive.

He counts the seconds that pass, until the seconds turn into minutes, and the minutes turn into numbness. Wei Ying blinks back the tears that he won't let out, keeping his hands on his lap. He wants to hold Jiejie too, but he doesn't think he's allowed. Jiang Cheng still hasn't looked up and this silence between them hurts much more than all their fights in the past. Wei Ying almost wishes Jiang Cheng will scream at him, tell him to go—just say something.

All he can do is stare at Jiejie.

“When did you get here?”

Wei Ying's breath hitches. For a second, he thinks he's imagined Jiang Cheng talking. The machines continue to fill the silence. After an eternity, Jiang Cheng glances in his direction, his lips twitching.

“Around three hours ago,” Wei Ying quickly says. “How... about you?”

“Wednesday. I spoke to her yesterday.”

This is the first time in years they've spoken without fighting each other; yet, Jiang Cheng's clipped responses don't make things any better. He talks fast, as if he wants this conversation to end as soon as possible.

Wei Ying digs his fingernails into his palm. “How was she?”

“Better. She's not doing so good today.”

He doesn't miss the way Jiang Cheng's eyes narrow at him as he says this. His words may be civil, but there's no denying the malice in his tone. He blames Wei Ying—of course he does—and he wishes he isn't here. Wei Ying presses his lips together and stops talking.

More silence.

Funny how Jiejie was always the one helping both of them to reconcile after their arguments. Now, even with her in between them, it's not enough to build a bridge again.

Jiang Cheng is the first to move. He rises.

“I'll go,” he says, already making his way for the door. He's gone before Wei Ying can stop him.

Wei Ying doesn't move. He stares at the door Jiang Cheng has left through. Why is it so difficult to find the right words to say to him now? They've always fought; since they were children, they'd fight over the silliest of things—but Wei Ying could always find the right words to make Jiang Cheng smile again. It was easy to read his brother; Jiang Cheng wore his emotions on his sleeve whereas Wei Ying hid them. He knew what Jiang Cheng was feeling before the stubborn man could understand it himself.

That was why they fit well together; two brothers, so unlike each other, side by side like matching puzzle pieces.

When Uncle Jiang and Aunt Yu fought everyday, it was impossible not to listen to the accusations they threw at one another. The children never interrupted them. All they could do was hide in their rooms, waiting for the arguments to die down, replaced by the silent tension they had grown to welcome. One evening, so similar to all the evenings they fought over the same thing, Uncle Jiang and Aunt Yu argued about Wei Ying's presence in this family. It was always the same. Why did Uncle Jiang prefer him over his own son? Was it because he was still in love with Wei Ying's mother? Was it because Jiang Cheng was Aunt Yu's child and Uncle Jiang hated Aunt Yu?

Wei Ying had long learnt to ignore these questions; thinking about the possible answers to them hurt his head.

Jiang Cheng, however, couldn't ignore them.

They'd sit in the room they shared together as teenagers; Wei Ying would try his best to distract himself from the shouts downstairs whereas Jiang Cheng would stay in one spot, glaring at his hands. Wei Ying knew he was listening intently, taking in every word and letting it poison his heart.

He sighed, reaching for Jiang Cheng.

“Jiang Cheng, let's go. Let's get out of here,” he said.

Jiang Cheng snatched his hand away. “Why? Shouldn't we be used to this by now?”

“We don't have to listen to them fighting.”

The voices downstairs got louder. Wei Ying clutched his hand to his chest and wished they could stop.

“What's the matter? You can't stand the truth?” Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Mom's right; Dad's always preferred you.”

“Don't say that!”

“Why can't I?! Why are you upset about that?! Shouldn't I be the one who's upset? I'm the one who can never compare to you, no matter how much I try!”

Jiang Cheng was shouting now too; almost as loud as his mother, who he always took after. His eyes burned like hers did whenever she blamed Wei Ying for every inconvenience in their home. It hurt more to see it on Jiang Cheng's face.

“That's not true!”

“It is and you know it! My own dad doesn't care about me but he loves you! Every day he's always praising you, but he's never once bothered to pay attention to me!”

Jiang Cheng shook, breathing hard. He was already crying. Wei Ying rushed forward to grasp him by the shoulders, but Jiang Cheng only shoved him off. The sounds of Uncle Jiang and Aunt Yu fighting could no longer be heard; all Wei Ying could listen to was Jiang Cheng trying his best to stifle his sobs, wiping furiously at his eyes.

“So tell me, Wei Ying, why don't you want to listen to this?!” he demanded. “Shouldn't you be fucking happy?! You have my parents who pay more attention to you than anyone else!”

Wei Ying weakly shook his head. “Stop saying that nonsense! Uncle Jiang is only strict with you because you're his own son!”

“No, he hates Mom so naturally he hates me too! Who cares about me when you're always going to be better?!”

This was what Wei Ying hated the most. He was forever thankful the Jiangs gave him a home, but the constant reminder that his presence did nothing but hurt those he loved the most tore him inside. As a child, it gnawed at him even when he didn't understand why. The years passed and he eventually understood—but still, there was nothing he could do. He could only hope to repay them in the future, when he was older, when he could look after himself without being a burden to anyone.

Not knowing what else he could do now, Wei Ying grabbed Jiang Cheng by the shoulders and shook him.

“Stop it!” he said, he begged. “Why does there need to be any competition between us? Why does that matter? I have never cared for any of that! Jiang Cheng, didn't you once tell me to stay by your side when we were kids? That you'll scare away any dogs for me?”

Jiang Cheng recoiled from him. “Why the fuck are you bringing that up—”

“No matter what happens, I'll be here to knock some sense into you. None of this competition matters!” Wei Ying said. He was throwing out everything and anything he could think of, desperate to make it up to Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng was his best friend, his brother; the first person he'd greet in the morning and the last one he'd see at night. They were the twin heroes, as they used call each other when they were kids; Wei Ying would stay by his side until they grew old and grey.

“If you don't believe in yourself then I will, and I'll beat up anyone that tells you you're not good enough,” Wei Ying continued. “We're brothers, aren't we? I don't want to fight you, I want to stay by your side.”

Jiang Cheng's eyes widened. Gone was the expression he saw more on Aunt Yu, replaced by a childlike hope. It was the same expression you'd see on a child who wanted to reach out for something, but was too scared to take it. Wei Ying gave him a shaky smile.

In the end, Jiang Cheng punched him on the shoulder. It was weak, barely even a punch, but it brought a smile to Jiang Cheng's face. He shook his head to himself, muttering under his breath.

“What fucking romantic movie did you quote that out of? Are you trying to comfort me or give me second hand embarrassment?”

Wei Ying's smile widened into a genuine grin. Their argument ended, even if the one downstairs was still continuing—but that didn't matter anymore. For the rest of that evening, the two boys watched TV together, laughing among themselves; knowing that whatever happened in the future, at least they would have each other.

I want to stay by your side.

How easily he broke that promise. No wonder Jiang Cheng hates him.

Wei Ying sighs, pushing the memories to the back of his mind. He looks down at Yanli, wishing she would wake up and tell him what to do. She'd always been good at comforting him.

“Jiejie,” Wei Ying quietly says. “Jiejie, I'm here.”

She doesn't say anything.

Wei Ying blinks back the stinging in his eyes and leans closer, carefully taking her hand into his. It's cold, but just as soft as he remembers. If he closes his eyes, he can think back to when she'd hold his hand, stroking his hair and telling him everything was going to be okay. He squeezes her hand tighter.

“It's Wei Ying. I'm here,” he says again. “I'm sorry it took me so long to visit.”

A lump catches at the back of his throat and it's becoming harder to see her with the tears that threaten to brim over. What does he even say to her? Can she hear him now? Does she want him to stay?

He clutches her hand closer to him and squeezes his eyes shut. Some of his tears escape him, dripping down onto the bed. He shrinks into himself. He's glad Jiang Cheng has left the room, even if it hurt to see him go.

“Please wake up. I'm sorry, Jiejie—I'm so sorry,” he begs.

Still, there is nothing. The machines continue to answer him instead, reminding Wei Ying his sister is not well; that it's his fault.

With no one else left in the room and Jiejie not waking up, Wei Ying allows himself to cry—just for now. He's tired of pretending he's okay. For now, all alone here with not even Lan Zhan to comfort him, Wei Ying cries into Jiejie's bed. He doesn't let go of her hand and he continues to beg her to wake up, repeating over and over again he's sorry. He's not sure if he wishes she can hear him.

When his tears dry and his apologies subside into hiccups, Wei Ying finally looks up. He takes a few seconds to compose himself, swallowing back the rest of the sobs that want to escape.

Jiejie has not moved at all. She sleeps on.

He takes a deep breath and stands up, gently letting go of her hand. He doesn't know how long he's been here, but this is enough. Wei Ying is tired—much more than he was before. He looks at Jiejie one last time and leaves the room; the weight in his chest doesn't go away even after he closes the door.

He knows why. Jiang Cheng is on the other side of the corridor, arms folded, staring at him. As always, his emotions are on show for everyone to see; he wants Wei Ying to leave. He's been here long enough.

For once, Wei Ying doesn't run away. He takes a step forward, and another, and another; until he's face to face with Jiang Cheng, unable to ignore the slight widening of his eyes. Jiang Cheng unfolds his arms. His fists clench ever so slightly.

“What do you want?” he asks.

What does he want? It's not about what he wants; it's about what he needs to do.

“Jiang Cheng. I'm sor—”

“Don't,” Jiang Cheng hisses. “Don't even say it.”

Wei Ying bites the inside of his cheek. Jiang Cheng's face is devoid of the usual anger he expects. He's as tired as he is.

“Just—don't say anything,” Jiang Cheng says again. He rubs his temples with one hand, closing his eyes. “There's nothing left to say. Both of us... There's no point.”

There's no point. Years and years of growing up together and it boils down to this; nothing. The unsteady path they've both taken, running at each other again and again, trying to see whose words hurt the most; does it finish at a dead end? Is this it?

Wei Ying licks his dry lips, forcing himself to speak up. “I have something to say.”

“I told you not to—”

“Can you listen for once?” Wei Ying says. He doesn't have to raise his voice; Jiang Cheng glares at him, but allows him to speak. “You can hate me all you want. You don't even have to think of me as family anymore. I know I wasn't there when Uncle Jiang and Aunt Yu died. I know I made things worse and it's my fault Jiejie is here.”

Wei Ying has said these things to himself countless times. For all his arrogance and his pride, he's good at remembering his wrongdoings, refusing to let himself forget them.

“Instead of being there for you, I just got drunk and I ran away from everything. I thought it was what you wanted. After everything I made you go through, I was convinced you hated me and staying away was the only thing I could do to help... but I was just too scared to face you,” Wei Ying continues. Everything is still so fresh to him. It feels like yesterday when he would down a bottle of wine instead of facing reality, ignoring the world; even going as far as to ignore Jiang Cheng.

He never intended to abandon him. He thought he was helping his brother by staying away, but he was only helping himself.

Wei Ying looks into Jiang Cheng's eyes and wishes they can start again.

Life isn't that easy, and no amount of wishing will erase his mistakes. Wei Ying can only sigh. “I don't have anything else to offer but to say I'm sorry.”

The way Jiang Cheng looks at him takes Wei Ying back to the times they'd argue, only for them to set aside their differences and laugh it off afterwards. However, now, instead of staring at him like a child with hope, Jiang Cheng stares at Wei Ying as if he's too wary, too tired of giving him a second chance.

He shakes his head and his voice is low, weak. “What's the point of saying all this now?”

“Do I need a reason to?” Wei Ying answers. “That's all. Thanks for hearing me out.”

Before he goes, Jiang Cheng speaks louder. There is some anger laced in his tone, but that's expected. Jiang Cheng always relies on anger before any other emotion.

“What do you want me to say? Forgive you? Say I'm sorry? What's the point of talking when there's nothing else we can do?!”

Wei Ying bows his head. “I don't want anything from you. It's been so long. You... don't need to say anything.”

Jiang Cheng says nothing, and neither does Wei Ying. In the end, Jiang Cheng is right; there really is nothing left for them to say to each other. Wei Ying spares him one last look and walks away, leaving the hospital.

He doesn't want to linger around the city, not when there's so much here that reminds him of who he used to be. Wei Ying quickly returns to the hotel; the only place where he finds he can breathe properly again. Seeing Lan Zhan waiting for him immediately takes away the weight on his shoulders.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, standing up from the couch. He'd been reading a book, by the looks of it.

“Hey,” Wei Ying weakly greets. He kicks off his shoes and throws himself onto the bed, letting the events of today drain him completely. He'd only been at the hospital for a few hours yet it feels like an eternity since he last saw Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying stays on the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He follows the intricate patterns of its golden swirls, weaving around the room until it joins the chandelier at the centre. The room smells faintly of ginger, but he forgets about that when Lan Zhan sits next to him. Turning to face him, Wei Ying breathes in sandalwood and smiles.

“Do you want to come with me tomorrow, Lan Zhan?” he asks.

Lan Zhan nods.

Sitting up, Wei Ying lays his head on the musician's shoulder and closes his eyes. Now that he's back with Lan Zhan and away from the stifling hospital, his anxiety calms down—slightly. It continues to gnaw at him, reminding him his sister is still unwell and there's a chance he could be saying goodbye to her very soon.

“I'm scared she's dying,” Wei Ying says out loud. “She can't... Just when I'm finally here.”

He never expected Lan Zhan to say something. When he feels an arm snaking around his waist and pulling him closer, Wei Ying releases a shuddering breath and welcomes it.

“I... Lan Zhan, what are you most scared of?”

“Hm?”

“You heard me. What scares you the most?”

For some reason, the grip around his waist tightens. He thinks he feels Lan Zhan shaking for the shortest second.

“Losing... the people I love,” he says after a while.

Wei Ying's chest aches. He wants to ask who he has lost, but he keeps those questions to himself. He can't even answer Lan Zhan's inquiries about his own past; what right does he have to pry on his as well?

“Oh. You see, I'm scared of hurting the people I love,” Wei Ying mumbles. “But I've already done that so much, Lan Zhan. It's easier to be alone than to hurt them.”

Lan Zhan leans in. He kisses the top of Wei Ying's head, causing his heart to skip a beat.

“I'm here,” he says.

Wei Ying smiles. “I know.”

 

- x -

 

Wangji has always made sure to avoid hospitals. Being immortal, neither he nor his brother need to ever set foot in one. In fact, it is best they don't; if any doctors or nurses noticed the advantages they have as immortals, then it would be detrimental. Coming to Ohio with Wei Ying had been no problem; joining him at the hospital is another matter entirely.

The next day, Wangji and Wei Ying make their way to the hospital as planned. He follows Wei Ying along the white corridors, keeping his gaze straight. Around them are reminders that humanity is weak and their lives are short. It does little to comfort Wangji, knowing that Wei Ying is exactly the same. Even if he has found him after all this time, he is temporary. Wei Ying will leave, just like everyone else.

He hates how there is nothing he can do about this. What is the point of being immortal?

Wangji ignores these thoughts for now. He is not here in the hospital for this reason; he is here to support Wei Ying. Keeping an eye on him at all times, he remains by his side, following him until they reach a closed door. Outside, Wangji recognises Jin Zixuan and his son, staring at him with obvious curiosity in their brown eyes. Neither speak. Beside them is Jiang Cheng, who makes it obvious he is not pleased Wangji is here with Wei Ying. He scoffs under his breath, so quiet that Wangji knows Wei Ying wouldn't have been able to hear it.

Wei Ying clears his throat and motions towards the door.

“Can we...?”

Jin Zixuan nods. “Don't be long. The doctor wants to see her soon.”

They enter the room.

It is clear, as soon as he sees her, that Jiang Yanli is dying. It is the first thing Wangji notices and the only thing he can focus on after. Her pulse is weak, barely there, and what little life she has left in her is slowly dwindling away with every second that passes. She would not survive another day; perhaps two if she is lucky.

“This is Jiejie,” Wei Ying tells him, taking a seat next to her. He holds her hand in his; the naïve hope in his face as he stares at his sister almost makes Wangji look away. “I hope she wakes up soon. I think she'll like you.”

Wangji sits down as well. Not for the first time in his life, he hates how fragile human lives are.

Wei Ying talks to his sister as if she is awake. He tells her that Wangji was gracious enough to come with him to Ohio, that he is a parent of one of the students he teaches. He keeps repeating that Jiang Yanli will like him, maybe even more than she likes Wei Ying—although Wangji finds that very hard to believe. One does not have to look twice to see how much Wei Ying loves his sister, and how much it will destroy him to lose her.

Wangji has already seen that happen. He does not want to see it again.

“Wei Ying,” he says.

Wei Ying glances at him. “Yeah?”

“...A drink. Can you get one? Outside.”

“Huh? Oh, are you thirsty?”

Wangji nods.

“Okay, wait.” Wei Ying stands, patting his pockets. Wangji offers him his wallet, but he pushes it away. “I'm not that broke. I think I saw a few vending machines on the way here. I'll get us some.”

“Please.”

Wei Ying's eyes flicker to Jiang Yanli, hesitating. “Wait here, okay? I'll be quick.”

Again, Wangji nods. “Hmm.”

He breathes a sigh of relief when Wei Ying runs off, slipping outside. Wangji does not waste any time. He rises and takes Jiang Yangli's wrist, pressing his fingers against her pulse point; weak, as expected. Her pulse struggles to carry on.

With his other hand, he hovers it just above her heart, watching her face for any sort of reaction. She sleeps on, and so he begins.

It has been years since he has done this properly. He transfers his energy to her body, feeling the warmth leave him momentarily and basking her in a blue glow. A faint hum of magic hovers in the air; time is still, as frozen as Jiang Yanli. Wangji uses more energy, his eyes narrowing at the lack of response on her part. This needs to work. Jiang Yanli cannot die.

He gathers as much of his spirit energy, letting it dance between his fingertips before they sink into her skin. More, more, until Wangji remembers what it feels like to be weakened, until he begins to worry this is not working. Seconds turn into minutes. He does not stop; he is immortal and this will not kill him. He cannot stop.

She remains unmoving. Wangji clenches his jaw, roaming his hands over her head, stomach, any vital organ that is still weakened. He is beginning to breathe harder with how much energy he is losing, but still he continues to transfer everything he can into her deteriorating body—

The door bursts open. Wangji snatches his hands away, trembling.

“Lan Zhan, I didn't know what drink you'd like so I just got you water. Is that okay?”

He turns around and watches Wei Ying draw closer. He is none the wiser, waving two bottles of water in front of him. Wangji manages a quick nod.

“Sorry I took so long, by the way. The vending machine in this corridor didn't sell any drinks. I had to walk around to find another one.”

Wangji grips the bottle, glancing back at Jiang Yanli. He is not sure if he has done enough, and he cannot think of another lie to get Wei Ying out of this room. If he waits any longer, then Jiang Yanli's time may run out. He needs to to do this now.

“What's wrong?” Wei Ying asks, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You look tired.”

“I am fine,” Wangji insists. He keeps his eyes on Jiang Yanli, searching his brain for a solution. Under no circumstances can Wei Ying witness him using cultivation. He will need to get Wei Ying away from here, preferably for a longer time.

“We might have to leave soon. Jin Zixuan said the doctor needs to see her.”

No.

Wangji's eyes narrow. He needs more time. He needs—

A soft whimper breaks through the air. Wei Ying hears it too; within seconds, he's by Jiang Yanli's side, grabbing her hand.

“Jiejie? Jiejie, it's me, Wei Ying,” he says. “Jiejie, I'm here.”

She groans and the hand in Wei Ying's twitches. Wangji's eyes soften, watching Wei Ying's lips tremble as he tries his best not to cry. He repeats over and over again that he is here, stumbling over his own words. It does not feel right to witness this; Wei Ying has always had too much pride to show weakness in front of others.

Finally, Jiang Yanli's eyes flutter open. She looks around the room in confusion before settling on Wei Ying, who is shaking like a leaf in front of her. She gasps, raising her hand to stroke back his hair.

“A-Ying? A-Ying, is it you?”

That is when Wei Ying finally cries. He breaks apart, clutching her hand and ducking his head down, filling the room with his sobs. Wangji has to look away.

Jiang Yanli's pulse has steadied itself. She gathers Wei Ying into her arms and sobs with him, running her fingers through his hair.

“Jiejie, I-I am so sorry—”

She silences him, shaking her head. Wei Ying looks so small in her arms; hardly a middle aged man, but a child who only missed his family.

“Sshh, sshh. There's nothing to be sorry for. I've missed you so much.”

Wei Ying continues to cry, repeating again and again that he is sorry. No matter how much Jiang Yanli reassures him, Wei Ying is inconsolable. His sobs are loud, no longer held back; he can only hold onto his sister's hand and apologise for everything he has done.

As much as Wangji wishes to comfort him, he knows his place. He quietly slips out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.

For now, he has done enough.