( Was there pain, in any of this? Has he forgotten in the moment beyond the first sharp inclination, when the warmth that follows is a subtle shift forward, holding and held, faces aligned without perfection until they find ways to slot noses past noses, the small, private noises of it all. Is it a victory, to not be bloodied and desperate, to not be bent over in pain, and to feel, momentarily, the shadows caress their faces, embrace their not-quite-silence, hides them from the world while they're not performing for the world to see?
Wei Wuxian stutters back into himself, Lan Zhan's stifled moan lingering in his ears, a promise unmet, awaiting fulfilling. Blinks against the kisses pressed to his face, to Lan Zhan's breath as ragged as Wei Wuxian feels, his fingers shifting hold to stroke as the words sink below the surface of his too thick skin.
Don't leave me. Not again, not now, and he strokes from temple to the top of his head, and down the cascading waterfall of his hair. Strokes like he doesn't know how to do correctly with rabbits, how his shijie had soothed him from his youngest years to those within her time of dying. Precious, he thinks, recognising it as a tooth bearing truth that smiles or threatens or both, depending on who listens.
He shifts into Lan Zhan, just enough to bring forehead to forehead, metal caught between. )
I'll always come home.
( The simpler truth, found in long journeys and realignments of self before this world, further tempered in the trials of this one. Home is a place, isn't it? A place in the heart of those he loves. And while Sizhui has one kind of love, one kind of respect, he's still an unknown factor to him in the ways that Lan Zhan has learned, in the weak moments, the strong ones, the arrogance of their shared youth, the pain parting them later, a drop in the bucket of Lan Zhan's life.
His hand strokes over Lan Zhan's hair, the ensconced flame shuddering in the gasp of a breeze that staggers past, the rabbits huddling down away from the movement that flutters back to stillness, an exhalation of fresh air finding them even here, so far from where the air flows easy and true. Like they must, to survive each other. Like he wants to, out of the shadows and into the corners of Lan Zhan's heart.
A home, as his is, dusty corners and all. )
I'll always come home to you.
( Not Gusu. Not Yunmeng. Not Yiling, which was never a home, but was a refuge, and a death sentence at different times. Just to Lan Zhan, and the incidentals of location be at times damned. )
no subject
( Was there pain, in any of this? Has he forgotten in the moment beyond the first sharp inclination, when the warmth that follows is a subtle shift forward, holding and held, faces aligned without perfection until they find ways to slot noses past noses, the small, private noises of it all. Is it a victory, to not be bloodied and desperate, to not be bent over in pain, and to feel, momentarily, the shadows caress their faces, embrace their not-quite-silence, hides them from the world while they're not performing for the world to see?
Wei Wuxian stutters back into himself, Lan Zhan's stifled moan lingering in his ears, a promise unmet, awaiting fulfilling. Blinks against the kisses pressed to his face, to Lan Zhan's breath as ragged as Wei Wuxian feels, his fingers shifting hold to stroke as the words sink below the surface of his too thick skin.
Don't leave me. Not again, not now, and he strokes from temple to the top of his head, and down the cascading waterfall of his hair. Strokes like he doesn't know how to do correctly with rabbits, how his shijie had soothed him from his youngest years to those within her time of dying. Precious, he thinks, recognising it as a tooth bearing truth that smiles or threatens or both, depending on who listens.
He shifts into Lan Zhan, just enough to bring forehead to forehead, metal caught between. )
I'll always come home.
( The simpler truth, found in long journeys and realignments of self before this world, further tempered in the trials of this one. Home is a place, isn't it? A place in the heart of those he loves. And while Sizhui has one kind of love, one kind of respect, he's still an unknown factor to him in the ways that Lan Zhan has learned, in the weak moments, the strong ones, the arrogance of their shared youth, the pain parting them later, a drop in the bucket of Lan Zhan's life.
His hand strokes over Lan Zhan's hair, the ensconced flame shuddering in the gasp of a breeze that staggers past, the rabbits huddling down away from the movement that flutters back to stillness, an exhalation of fresh air finding them even here, so far from where the air flows easy and true. Like they must, to survive each other. Like he wants to, out of the shadows and into the corners of Lan Zhan's heart.
A home, as his is, dusty corners and all. )
I'll always come home to you.
( Not Gusu. Not Yunmeng. Not Yiling, which was never a home, but was a refuge, and a death sentence at different times. Just to Lan Zhan, and the incidentals of location be at times damned. )