[ lan wangji holds him without protest or complaint; he gives of himself so easily to wei wuxian, in the way that he would withhold himself from another. it is a feeling he cannnot describe, to be wound up in the arms of someone who has made a home for him in the spaces his own body cannot inhabit. to be fitted into lan wangji's life like a missing piece, the kite to its string, the stem to a beautiful and short-lived flower. he settles into his embrace, pressing his shoulder against the broadness of lan wangji's chest and his head to the sturdiness of his collarbone and he feels
so very much.
and so very much more, when lan wangji rips the air from his lungs, leaving him spasming in shock momentarily. choking on his own throat ( lan sizhui, birth name yuan, he hears and it rattles around in the space between his ears where his brain ought to be but is now only a name: yuan, yuan, a'yuan ), his body slowly tightening up on itself, toes curling, fingers grasping sharply at the firm angle of lan wangji's waist. he wants to say that it's not a funny thing to say, but lan wangji would not jest about a painful memory. he wants to say that it's a lie, but lan wangji is honest to the core. so it must be true, not just a coincidence of name, but the rational thing: his little a'yuan, who has lived, who has grown into a handsome and splendid young man. ]
-- my A'Yuan?
[ his voice is small, it is fragile.
there are many, many more things he thinks to say but he can only repeat the most important one: ]
no subject
so very much.
and so very much more, when lan wangji rips the air from his lungs, leaving him spasming in shock momentarily. choking on his own throat ( lan sizhui, birth name yuan, he hears and it rattles around in the space between his ears where his brain ought to be but is now only a name: yuan, yuan, a'yuan ), his body slowly tightening up on itself, toes curling, fingers grasping sharply at the firm angle of lan wangji's waist. he wants to say that it's not a funny thing to say, but lan wangji would not jest about a painful memory. he wants to say that it's a lie, but lan wangji is honest to the core. so it must be true, not just a coincidence of name, but the rational thing: his little a'yuan, who has lived, who has grown into a handsome and splendid young man. ]
-- my A'Yuan?
[ his voice is small, it is fragile.
there are many, many more things he thinks to say but he can only repeat the most important one: ]
I want to go home.