Chapter Text
It starts drizzling, a few minutes into the call. Not enough to get proper, soaking wet, and not enough to really start to feel particularly sorry for himself about it, either. But it sprinkles just enough to feel it, sharp and cold against his face, little pinpricks that do not allow him to drift too far away.
By the time that Lan Zhan arrives in his car, his clothes are dotted all over with it, and his hair has just the slightest sheen of moisture. He wipes his face and opens the passenger door before Lan Zhan can do something like get out and open it for him.
For a moment, they both just sit there, while Lan Zhan looks at him and Wei Ying pretends that he doesn't notice. He puts his seatbelt on and rubs his hands together, which really doesn't help at all, because his gloves are a little wet. He exhales and sinks further into the seat.
"Thanks for driving to come get me in the middle of the night," he says. He dares to lift his eyes to look at him. Lan Zhan looks about a quarter asleep still, the gentleness of it around his eyes.
"I'd come get you every night if you needed it." Lan Zhan inclines his head as if this is something that anyone would find perfectly reasonable.
Wei Ying shakes his head. "No one else offers things like that, Lan Zhan."
"You'd do it for me."
He shifts his eyes to the windshield, where ice-cold droplets are slowly being collected. "You're right," he says, and wonders why it feels like giving up so much.
Lan Zhan shifts the car out of park and begins to drive down the dark road. For a few minutes, it is just their breathing, the droplets on the windshield, and the Chopin playing on the radio.
Then his phone buzzes.
He almost doesn't check it. He almost leaves it in his pocket, content to let himself live in this quiet space he's just collected. But he thinks of his sister, and little Jin Ling, and knows he cannot ignore it.
It's a text from his brother, demanding to know where he is. Jiang Cheng had still been at the bar with everyone else when he'd made his excuses and left. He doesn't even remember what he'd said, but if Jiang Cheng is texting him, they must not have been very good excuses.
He gets a glance from Lan Zhan, but he doesn't demand anything from him.
"It's my brother," he explains, but once it's out of his mouth, he realizes that may not actually make things any clearer for him.
His phone buzzes. This time, the text doesn't even have any punctuation.
"Oh, no," he breathes.
"Is everything alright?" Lan Zhan hedges. He doesn't know how to answer.
Someone had seen him walking out of the convenience store, next to the bar. Someone had made the connection, thought it was funny, and told Jiang Cheng.
He thought he'd be able to make it at least a full day, before Jiang Cheng found out what he'd done.
"Would you like to go to your brother or away from him?" Lan Zhan asks softly. He knows him so well.
"I'd like to hide, for a bit," he admits. He swallows. "Even though he's going to guess where I am immediately."
"Let him guess. He does not have a key," Lan Zhan says simply.
"You want Jiang Cheng to break your door down?" Wei Ying doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"He will not succeed," is all he says.
So he texts his brother that he won't be coming in tonight, and that he'll see him tomorrow, and then he turns his phone off.
By the time they reach Lan Zhan's apartment, the clock on the dashboard only reads 12:30 a.m., but he feels about ready to nod off then and there. They brave the few steps of rain before ducking inside, taking off their wet jackets and sliding off their shoes. Lan Zhan does not immediately collapse in his bed, even though he looks like he wants to, and instead starts boiling water for tea. Wei Ying sits himself at the kitchen counter and thanks the gods that Lan Huan seems to be a deep sleeper.
He knows this is a temporary solution, hiding at Lan Zhan's side and sucking the peacefulness of his presence like a leech. He knows that he will have to face this on his own, eventually. He knows he cannot hide from his choice forever.
"Are you hungry?" Lan Zhan asks him. "There are leftover noodles."
He honestly cannot even tell if he's hungry. His stomach rolls with something, but he can't tell if that's hunger or anxiety or both. Uncertainty causes him to shake his head, and Lan Zhan accepts it, albeit with some hesitancy.
Just as Lan Zhan is taking the kettle off the stove, there's a rapid knock at the door. It's got to be Jiang Cheng. Wei Ying freezes, and he notices that Lan Zhan does too. Neither of them move to answer.
The knock happens again, harder this time. "Wei Ying, I swear to god, open the fucking door." Yep, definitely Jiang Cheng.
Lan Zhan turns his head to look at him, but he doesn't move, and Wei Ying understands what that means. He's willing to follow his lead, even if it means leaving Jiang Cheng there to pound on their door for hours.
He knows he's given himself too much peace at once. He shouldn't be greedy with it.
He slides himself off the stool he'd been perched on, and goes to open the door. When he swings it open, Jiang Cheng is mid knock, mouth open in an angry grimace.
"Tell me you didn't," Jiang Cheng growls out.
There are several angles he can play here. He goes for flippancy, crossing his arms. "Jiang Cheng, you've been drinking and you're not thinking clearly. Go home and sleep before you say something really stupid."
"You're purposefully avoiding the subject," Jiang Chang says, stepping forward and pushing him in the chest. It's clearly not meant to actually harm, but it does surprise him, and he takes a step back. Lan Zhan appears at his side like some sort of particularly grumpy shadow. He's giving Jiang Cheng his coldest, iciest glare. Wei Ying doesn't know what he would do if he ever had to receive that look. Probably keel over on the spot.
"Look," Wei Ying says, scrambling for some sort of explanation. But he can't tell him about his phone call with Madame Yu, because he doesn't want Jiang Cheng to think he's blaming him.
Jiang Cheng knows him too well. He hears the silence, he sees the look on his face, and he extracts a confession from it.
"You did it, didn't you." Jiang Cheng says slowly. His face is flushed. He's angry, probably a bit more than buzzed, and more than all of that, he's sad. "You did exactly what I did."
"I didn't--" he starts the sentence without really knowing how he's going to finish. He didn't what? Make the same mistake that Jiang Cheng did, knowing full well the consequences?
"You know what's going to happen, don't you? Lan Qiren is going to kick your ass out." Jiang Cheng takes another few steps into the apartment. Shamefully, Wei Ying steps back with every one of Jiang Cheng's steps forward. "You knew, and you did it anyway."
He should probably be acting more drunk than he is, right? He should at least have drunkenness as an excuse, later. Otherwise he has nothing.
"Did you know they're going to take my scholarship away?" Jiang Cheng speaks through clenched teeth. "I'm going to have to pull a goddamn miracle out of my ass to continue with school, and you just." He shakes his head disbelievingly. "You just threw it away."
Wei Ying does not know what he can possibly say to slow this speeding train, so he says nothing. Lan Zhan still has the steely look on his face, glancing between the two of them, trying to piece together a situation with no background information.
"How could you do that?" Jiang Cheng asks, cheeks flushing even further. "How could you do that to me? They already look at me a little different, now. How are they going to look at me now? Are they going to think I forced you to do this, just to make me look better?"
"They won't," Wei Ying promises, braving a step forward. "Madame Yu won't blame you. No one will blame you. I did what I did myself."
"They'll look at me and see the first in the series of delinquents," he seethes. "They'll see me as paving the way for your undoing."
"They won't !" Wei Ying says, waving his arms. "Jiang Cheng, your friends love you. Your family loves you. It's not as if our marks on you will just disappear! They mean something, you know! You have a goddamn support system!"
"As if you could understand," Jiang Cheng spits at him.
Wei Ying goes cold.
"How could you understand?" Jiang Cheng smiles sharply.
Wei Ying swallows. "Look--" he starts to say. "I'm--"
Jiang Cheng won't say it, right? Not with Lan Zhan right there. He won't do that. He won't.
But Jiang Cheng sees the fear in his eyes, and he isn't one to back away from a weakness he can exploit during a fight. He watches, with a distant sort of horror, as Jiang Cheng turns his gaze to Lan Zhan. His eyes are burning with cold, frigid fire.
Don't, he thinks hopelessly.
"Ah, he probably hasn't told you, has he?" Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue. "Of course, why would he?"
He wants to say something, anything, but his lips won't part. He feels as though he can barely breathe. All at once, he can't stand hearing another word that's spoken, yet can't bear to make any noise that might cover up what happens next.
"You've seen his fingertips, haven't you? Ever wondered why he keeps the rest of his hands covered? Why he bears no marks on his face?"
He can't stop this. This is happening.
"Wei Ying doesn't have any marks at all. Not one."
He doesn't look at Lan Zhan's face. He crosses his arms over his chest, fingers curling into his arms so tightly that it'll bruise. The damage is done.
He's not foolish enough to think that this will alter their friendship in any real, meaningful way. It's not as if the fact that he is not loved will really change anything between them. But it hurts , to know that they both know it. Before, he could act like-- like maybe Lan Zhan didn't know. Like he could play pretend as if they were two normal friends. Two friends that had not touched each other and did not know what would happen if they did.
"My sister thinks it's a mistake." Jiang Cheng's lips are curled up into a cruel sort of smile . "She thinks the universe somehow got it wrong. As if that's ever happened before. What's more plausible, that the universe saved all of his mistakes for him--" Jiang Cheng is looking at him now, head tilted and eyebrows raised in challenge. "Or that someone like him just cannot be loved?"
"I'd like you to leave." Lan Zhan's words come out of nowhere, and Wei Ying breaks his self-made rule without thinking, turning his neck to look at him. His eyes are on Jiang Cheng, and he's furious.
Jiang Cheng just shrugs. "I'm doing you a favor. It's easily verifiable."
"Get," Lan Zhan steps forward stiffly. "Out."
"Fine," Jiang Cheng says, stepping towards the door. Wei Ying swears he hears static between his ears. Is he about to wake up? Is this a nightmare? Jiang Cheng looks over his shoulder as he crosses the doorframe, meeting Wei Ying's eyes. "Don't even think about coming home," he says.
The door shuts. It is the only sound in Lan Zhan's apartment for quite some time.
Eventually, to his surprise, it's Lan Zhan himself who breaks it.
"We don't have to talk about it," Lan Zhan says quietly. "Not tonight, and not ever, not if you don't want to."
"Ah, Lan Zhan," he says, trying his very best not to listen to his own words. He knows he sounds like he's about to shake apart at any minute. "You're really too good." He means it. It's comforting, to know that there are no expectations here. That Lan Zhan does not feel at all entitled to personal information, despite getting the teaser of a lifetime from Jiang Cheng. Lan Zhan will not ask him to confirm it, or deny it, or explain further. They can just continue to be.
But somehow, that doesn't seem like the right thing to do. Somehow, with the truth already halfway out there, he feels like he should step out the rest of the way. He does not think that it will feel better afterwards, necessarily, but it does feel almost inevitable.
"Can we talk?" His words are so quiet that he's grateful they aren't swallowed up by the carpet. He knows it's well past nine, but if he doesn't get the words out now he's positive they'll be more painful crossing his lips later. As if the time delayed would spoil them, make them worse.
"I'm here for whatever you need," comes the soft reply.
I love you , he very nearly says. Not as an apology, or as some sort of exchange for his kindness. But as a very secret fact that he'd kept to himself for so long that he so very much wants to share with his best friend. Like he'd kept a geyser stopped up in him for years, like the pressure of it would tear him apart. If it were possible to be crushed by love, his chest would have collapsed under the weight of it long ago.
At his silence, Lan Zhan prompts him again. "Would you like tea?"
Wei Ying desperately wants something to do with his hands, but if his fingertips are within his field of vision during this conversation, he just might cry. He manages a curt shake of his head. "Let's--" he manages to tilt his head towards the living room. "Couch?"
They cross the room to sit on the long, blue couch. He takes a moment to breathe deeply, a few times, and then tells himself to stop putting it off. He risks a glance over to Lan Zhan, but he just blinks at him like he's ready for anything. Like he'd listen to him talk about his music theory project if that's what he wanted to do right now.
He swallows, and then he says it.
"The white. On your arm." Wei Ying can't believe these words are coming out of his mouth. He can't believe he's saying the thing he'd been most sure he'd never say. He breathes out slowly, and does not move his eyes away from the bookshelf. He says, feeling like it might split him in half, "that was me."
"How?" Lan Zhan blinks, shifting closer to him. His tone has taken a sharp turn, from gentle and soft to something like excitement. Wei Ying winces at it. Even after Jiang Cheng tried to tell him, he doesn't know.
His hands are in his pockets, which he's grateful for, because although Lan Zhan doesn't demand anything from him, doesn't reach for them, he can tell that he wants to.
"While you were--" how had he ever thought that had been a good idea? "While you were unconscious. That night at the Nie Halloween party."
"Not how did you do it without me knowing," Lan Zhan shakes his head. "How did you touch me? With what?"
How can Wei Ying explain this to him in a way he'll understand? He feels so heavy, as if it is hours later than it actually is, as if he's just finished running a marathon.
"My thumb." The admission takes more out of him than he'd expected. It takes-- it takes everything. This is the truth that hurts him the most, and now it is not his to hold alone. His vision swims, suddenly, and in the millisecond it takes him to register embarrassment at his tears, he forgets to hide the proof. He pulls out his hand to wipe at his face. His right hand.
Lan Zhan does not grab at him, because that is not something he would ever do. But he does lean forward, even more than he had been, and looks. Wei Ying lowers his hand slowly, realizing his mistake too late, a sharply sour taste in his mouth. He feels the sudden urge to apologize. He clamps his mouth shut. Lan Zhan looks at his hand for another moment, and then his gaze flickers upwards.
They meet each other's eyes, yet somehow there's still not understanding there. Lan Zhan knows that he is right handed. But if it'll end this conversation, if it'll finally bring him to understanding-- Wei Ying pulls out his left hand too. He sets them both on his knees, palms up. He does not look at them, he cannot look at them, so he instead keeps his eyes on Lan Zhan's face.
"I don't understand," Lan Zhan says, voice somehow genuinely confused. He doesn't sound sad, or guilty. He sounds like he's truly asking for more information. Like this whole situation is a misunderstanding. Like his life has all been one big misunderstanding.
"It didn't leave a mark on me, Lan Zhan," he says quietly, gently. And then, because he may as well give him everything: "Nothing ever has."
Lan Zhan is frowning, the one that means someone's joking around and I don't get it and it's making me mad. Wei Ying has a sharp, inexplicable desire to laugh, but he doesn't. He couldn't bear to make him feel like he's being made fun of.
"I'm not lying to you," Wei Ying says. He slowly extends a hand, offering another touch. "If you don't believe the white was me, we can try again." Lan Zhan doesn't say anything, but he also doesn't move away, so Wei Ying very slowly moves his fingertips to brush against the back of Lan Zhan's hand. It leaves nothing on either of them. It is not a first touch. "See?"
Wei Ying makes to move away, but Lan Zhan flips his hand around and takes his. It's gentle but firm. "I don't understand," Lan Zhan repeats, and there's such a deep, crushing sadness in his voice now that Wei Ying almost regrets saying anything at all.
"What don't you understand?" Wei Ying asks patiently. He squeezes his hand. He's genuinely not sure where Lan Zhan is getting stuck.
He takes a long moment to reply, but Wei Ying knows him well enough to distinguish between I'm not talking to you silence and it's taking me a very long time to gather words silence. He waits, and it is a surprisingly peaceful pause. He realizes that it is not such a bad thing, to be on this side of a confession. There is a lightness to it, if not relief.
Lan Zhan seems to come to some sort of conclusion, because his grip tightens and he lifts his head to meet his eyes. "I love you," he says, like it's the simplest thing in the world. "I do."
And, well. Wei Ying is prepared to deal with a lot of things, but not this. Not the "but the universe must have made a mistake" argument. His sister's words ring through his head. "The mark must be wrong." He doesn't have the energy to explain why Lan Zhan is wrong.
He knows that Lan Zhan wouldn't lie to him, and he knows that it's not something he's saying just to try and make him feel better. But it has that same texture to it. Wei Ying knows that they are friends, and he knows that Lan Zhan cares for him, but the idea of Lan Zhan loving him is laughable. The idea of love is not for him.
It must be something Lan Zhan is miscategorizing. He is not lying, but it is not the truth.
But what does he say? "I don't believe you?" That's needlessly cruel. It accomplishes nothing. It would be honest, painfully honest, but perhaps there had been enough honesty between them tonight.
He does not know how to tell him that he is unlovable, so he does not try.
"Alright," he says, and he lets the topic go like he accepts it. Like he did with his sister. If a little smile and a little encouraging word are enough to make them feel better, does he not have a duty to do just that? He squeezes Lan Zhan's hand and attempts a "well, the mark must be wrong then" smile.
Lan Zhan is looking at him carefully, trying to understand his response. Had he been expecting surprise? Happiness? Wei Ying would probably feel something close to those things if someone ever did say that to him and mean it. If he were someone else. Someone for whom that is possible.
"You're upset," Lan Zhan says slowly, looking at him and seeing far too much.
"Let's talk more tomorrow?" Wei Ying says, unwilling to spend more energy on plastering a smile to his face.
Lan Zhan nods, if a little reluctantly. "Whatever you need," he says softly.
He remembers, with a jerk, that he has nowhere to go. "Can I--" He winces. How much can he ask for him in one night? All of this patience, and understanding, and now-- and how he wants to take his space from him too?
Lan Zhan squeezes his hand, and then lets go. "Whatever you need."
Apparently, "whatever you need" even extends to borrowing Lan Zhan's very adorable bunny rabbit pajamas, which he has never before allowed him to wear. If Wei Ying didn't feel so emotionally exhausted, he might have found it funny. All it took to successfully steal Lan Zhan's clothes was to make his brother spill his deepest secret in front of the one person he wanted to hide from most. All a part of his foolproof plan.
Usually, when Wei Ying stays over, he takes the couch. Not because sharing a bed seems in any way uncomfortable, or embarrassing, or even something that Lan Zhan wouldn't enjoy. He knows his best friend is secretly a softie. But before tonight, it had been important not to touch him. It had been vitally important to not have the conversation they have already had. And how do you prevent yourself from touching someone in your sleep?
Now there is no excuse left.
They don't even need to talk about it. It is as if mutual understanding grows from the heavy emotion hanging in the air. It's simple: Lan Zhan finishes brushing his hair, and Wei Ying finishes stealing the fabled matching pajama set, and Lan Zhan turns off the lights, and Wei Ying feels himself being pulled into a warm burrito of blankets.
It is almost unsettling, the lack of complexity. He does not have to worry about staying away anymore. It is a little strange, to be pulled to something you'd pushed yourself away from your whole life, like a magnet that has suddenly changed polarity. But lying there, under the softest blankets imaginable, the soft tick of the wall clock the only thing accompanying their breathing, Wei Ying's head tucked under Lan Zhan's chin, almost everything else is whited out by pure peace.
He does not have a mark. But he does have this. This is worth quite a bit. This is more than he thought he would ever have, and it's enough. He does not know how long it will last, but for as long as it is offered to him, he will take it.
--
When he rises that morning, bleary-eyed and stumbling into the kitchen, it's to Lan Zhan sitting at the kitchen counter with a cup of tea. Lan Huan is not around, and Wei Ying guesses he's already out and about. There is coffee already made, he notes with glee.
"Lan Zhan!" he exclaims, immediately grabbing a mug from the cabinet and pouring himself a cup. He has already put his gloves on, so the warmth through the mug is a soft thing and does not sting. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Lan Zhan has a gentle look on his face, but it's a hesitant thing, as if he's expecting Wei Ying to go from affectionate to something else very quickly. Does he think he's going to have another emotional breakdown? Does he expect him to be angry?
"Ah, stop looking at me like that," Wei Ying waves at him. Lan Zhan does not look away. "I'm not about to start yelling. I may have lived with Jiang Cheng for years, but that doesn't mean I picked up his personality traits via osmosis."
"I do not think you will start yelling," Lan Zhan says, but he does not elaborate on what exactly he's afraid will happen.
The silence in the kitchen is like a physical itch. "Can we make pancakes?" He says it more out of the pure urge to say something than out of a genuine desire, but as soon as the words are out of his mouth he realizes how nice they sound.
He expects Lan Zhan to say no, or to offer to make them later, citing rehearsal's impending start time. Lan Zhan is the kind of person who likes to get to the rehearsal space at least 45 minutes early to order his music on the stand and warm up in the empty space.
But, although rehearsal starts in under two hours, all he gets in return is an easy nod. Lan Zhan stands from his place at the kitchen island and walks over to the fridge, starting to pull out the eggs and butter.
Wei Ying might have usually made a scene, teasing him about how they were going to be late, but even the thought of going to rehearsal today makes something painful twist in his stomach. He'd rather not think about it before he has to.
He mostly stays out of the cooking process, camping out on top of the kitchen counter, swinging his legs, and talking about whatever random bullshit comes to his mind. Meaning that the cooking process actually goes well. They even have some of his sister's jam, because it runs out less quickly in this household than in his, and the pairing of so many of his favorite things in one place almost makes him want to cry again.
But the pancakes do not last forever, especially at the rate he scarfs them down, and then suddenly he is out of excuses. He props his head on his chin, and looks across the table, and feels anxiety wash over him like cold water. He can't run from this anymore.
"We're going to be late," Wei Ying says quietly.
"We are not," Lan Zhan counters easily, reaching over to grab his plate. "I have told the director that we are not able to attend today."
Wei Ying's jaw drops. First of all, why he is determined to say "the director" all the time when he's referring to his own goddamn uncle is a mystery he will never solve. But second of all, did Lan Zhan call in sick for the first time in his life? Did he lie and call in sick?
"Lan Zhan ," he says, utterly stupefied. He follows him into the kitchen. "Did you lie to your own uncle for me?"
"I did not lie." He turns the sink on and starts washing the dishes. "I told him we would not be available."
Wei Ying can't help but laugh. "What? That's not even an excuse. You didn't give him any more detail? You didn't describe in depth how we were both vomiting late into the night?"
"It's not his business," Lan Zhan says a little haughtily.
He laughs again, then goes to his side and holds his hands out for the newly-washed plate, insisting to dry. "That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me," he teases, and while it's meant to be a joke, it's the truth. He's quite utterly touched.
Lan Zhan blushes a little, right at the tips of the ears, and Wei Ying is suddenly struck with the cruel thought that this might be some way that he's trying to prove himself. That Lan Zhan is doing nice things for him only because he's trying to convince Wei Ying that he loves him.
He casts the thought away. It's useless to think like that. Things are how they are, and he doesn't need to throw himself a pity party every hour.
"Alright, now that my pancake fantasy has been fulfilled," Wei Ying says, putting the dry plate to the side and accepting another one. "What are we going to do with the rest of the day? Now that we're ditching class?"
"Not 'ditching,'" Lan Zhan says, but it is not an argument. It's a calm statement. "It's healthy to take a step back when your mental health requires it."
"Hmm," Wei Ying hums, "I think you just really want to watch Desperate Housewives with me."
Lan Zhan makes a sound that is not a disconfirmation.
He laughs. "So I'm right?"
Lan Zhan turns to him, drying his hands and placing the dish towel on the counter without looking at it. He's clearly trying to find the words to say something, so he simply stands and waits for him to gather them. It takes only another few moments.
"Can I hug you?"
He blinks. His first instinct is to tease, to say something like do I look so emotionally unstable that I need a hug? But then he realizes that he might as well take what is offered while it still is. So he nods, and Lan Zhan steps forward, and suddenly his arms are around him.
He's trying to comfort me, he thinks, distantly. Would it be so bad if I let him?
"We don't have to talk, as I said." Lan Zhan's voice is barely there. "But if you want to, I will listen."
He doesn't know what to say, for a moment. He isn't even sure if he wants to talk about it. It's strange, having the option.
He hugs him tighter, sure that if he's going to say something that he doesn't want to see Lan Zhan's face when he does. "Well, I--" he swallows. "Jiang Cheng already summarized it so nicely, I'm not sure there's much else to say."
He feels Lan Zhan stiffen at his brother's name. "I am not interested in what Jiang Cheng said. I am interested in what you have to say."
He takes a breath. "He wasn't lying. I don't have any marks. None."
"A curse?" Lan Zhan suggests, because he's that kind of person. He sees this situation as some sort of mistake, like his sister does. As a result of some sort of sabotage, as if that's something that anyone would have any reason to do.
"No," he says, simply, as if it is not the one thing that terrifies him the most. It is simply the result of his existence. It is simply a consequence of the way he is.
"It must be," Lan Zhan protests, and he makes a move backwards as if he wants to look him in the eye, but Wei Ying isn't ready for that. He tugs him tighter so that he can't pull away.
Maybe this is one of those situations where he just has to agree with him and move on, he thinks a little desperately. How else are they going to have a conversation that doesn't end with "well, I guess you're just unlovable then" ?
"I know it makes you uncomfortable, so I will not say it once more after this. But I do love you."
What can he say? Thanks? I love you too? His love was already spelled out in front of them in the pure white on Lan Zhan's forearm. His love was the one spelled out on his face every day. His was the one that made sense-- how could he not love him?
"You do not have to reply at all. I wanted to say it one more time." Wei Ying feels extraordinarily selfish, remaining silent, as if he is taking something from him. But what is he taking from him but some delusion of love? Is it so bad for him to refuse to engage with a confession that he knows will just turn out to be a mistake, later on?
Mostly, Wei Ying hopes that Lan Zhan knows that he is not uncomfortable because he would somehow not accept the love, if it were real. He hopes that he does not think he would be embarrassed about it. As if he would not cherish it above all else, if it really existed.
"You must know that your sister loves you." He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter. "Your brother. Your parents."
The lies looked real nice until that last one, and he can't suppress a snort. Lan Zhan stills.
"Sorry," he says without thinking, then winces. He ruined it, he had been on such a roll with the whole emotional comfort thing. Even if they had been all pretty lies. "I just--" how could he protest without admitting that he doesn't believe a word that he'd said in the last ten minutes? "I don't think my mother loved me." There, that is a nice little edge of the truth.
"Just because she touched you and didn't leave a mark--"
"She never touched me," he says. It sounds better than why is it so hard for you to conceive of the fact that I am simply not someone that people are capable of loving?
He hears the frown in Lan Zhan's voice. "Why would a mother refuse to touch her own child?"
She would not let me call her "mother," Wei Ying doesn't say. "We didn't get along very well," he says instead. And then, he goes for a little more honesty. "She, uh. She hated me a little, I think." He uses past tense to soften the blow, a little bit, like a little sleight of hand to obscure a gruesome scene to something a little less terrible.
"How could she hate you?" Lan Zhan sounds completely disbelieving.
"She thought that Jiang Fengmian cheated on her with my biological mother. She thought I was a reminder of the fact that her husband didn't love her as much as he did another woman."
Lan Zhan's arms tighten around him. "Even if that were true, you should not have had to suffer for it."
That is the first thing he'd said that he can perhaps agree with, but it is hardly consequential now. "Yeah."
He makes himself let go, knowing that he can't take too much at once. Lan Zhan blinks at him softly.
"What now?" he asks, shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pockets.
"We could watch Desperate Housewives," Lan Zhan suggests, entirely serious.
Pure shock knocks a laugh out of him. He can't believe those words just came out of his mouth. "Seriously? You would?"
"You enjoy it," is all he says. Like a sap.
He narrows his eyes. "The minute you want to turn it off, you've got to tell me."
Lan Zhan hums, and it might have sounded like easy agreement to anyone else, but he knows it's a clear dismissal. He rolls his eyes and lets himself be tugged to the couch. Somehow, it's easy. He ends up draped against Lan Zhan's side, head on his shoulder, and he allows himself to forget everything else. Just for a bit.
It takes Lan Zhan a full two hours to breach the topic again.
"I could call your sister, if you'd like me to," Lan Zhan suggests. He has not let go of his hand since he pulled him to the couch.
"She has a tiny jelly bean of a baby, I don't think she has time to traipse around consoling weeping grown men."
"You are not currently weeping," Lan Zhan points out.
"Give me a minute," Wei Ying says, and it's only half a joke, really.
"Additionally, I know someone who is very good with curses," he says. "But I'm not sure you'll be willing to meet with them."
He doesn't know what to say. He could keep insisting that it isn't a curse, but clearly that isn't a concept that Lan Zhan is willing to accept. He could insist that they drop the subject altogether, but that feels childish and rude. So instead he forces himself to exhale, slowly, and goes with honesty. "I'm afraid of the way you'll look at me once you know it isn't a curse."
Lan Zhan is still. He can tell that he's looking for words, so he doesn't interrupt him.
"I cannot fathom a world in which you are completely and wholly unloved," Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying's chest tightens. Lan Zhan is so smart. How can he be so determinedly, confidently blind in this one way?
"Who's the curse expert?" Wei Ying asks, trying to steer the conversation away from whatever that was.
"My uncle," Lan Zhan says, apology in his voice.
Wei Ying groans, turning his face to bury it in Lan Zhan's shoulder. "He's going to hate me." The sound is muffled in Lan Zhan's shirt.
"He will not hate you for being unfit to attend rehearsal."
He sits up completely, detaching himself from Lan Zhan and looking him in the eye. "Not for that," he winces. "I sort of. Tried to get myself expelled?"
"Tried to?" Lan Zhan says, alarmed.
Damn, did he say that?
"Uh," he scratches his nose.
"This is why your brother was angry with you, yesterday?" Lan Zhan puts it together immediately.
He nods. Then he sighs, and melts back into his side. "I wasn't planning on telling people about it."
"Will you?" Lan Zhan squeezes his hand. "Tell me."
It all comes crashing down on him at once. The noise from the TV, the soft light streaming through the windows, Lan Zhan's hand in his. He's been given so much. What does he have to give in return? Perhaps Lan Zhan deserves a little honesty. There isn't much else that he can offer.
He tells him all of it. If the worst part of himself is already out in the open, what is the harm in this? He tells him about Jiang Cheng's scholarship, he tells him about his call with Madame Yu, and he tells him what he did last night. He's not sure what he's expecting, in response, but Lan Zhan's anger surprises him.
He stands up stiffly, after it's clear Wei Ying is finished, and Wei Ying barely suppresses the urge to make grabby hands at him to come back.
"I can call my uncle," Lan Zhan says. He turns to him. "Let me call him."
Wei Ying chews on his lip. About the curse or about his academic standing? The first doesn't exist, and the second isn't something that can be wished away with a smile. But Lan Zhan looks so earnest, so genuinely hopeful, and he finds that he can't deny him. What is the harm? A few uncomfortable minutes for him, and Lan Zhan can set his mind at ease. If a little discomfort on his part is the price of setting Lan Zhan's world straight, how can he say no?
"Alright," he acquiesces.
He does not hear what he says, on the call. Lan Zhan specifically tells him he wants to step out to make it, which concerns him, but not enough to refuse. He doesn't think Lan Zhan expects to have some sort of screaming match with his uncle, but that's half what it looks like, seeing Lan Zhan step out of the apartment with this phone in hand and a stormy expression on his face.
The longest fifteen minutes of his life pass as he fiddles around the kitchen trying to start making lunch as a distraction, and finally Lan Zhan walks back in. He sets his phone on the counter, exhales, and then looks at the stove with something like horror.
Wei Ying looks at the pot on the stove. He'd just been starting some noodles.
"Can I help?" It sounds more like please for the love of god let me do that.
"Am I doing it wrong?" Wei Ying looks into the pot curiously.
Lan Zhan makes an alarmed noise, waves him away, and puts out a small fire that had escaped his attention. Huh.
The coming hours are an unusual sort of peace.
It's a hard thing. Not to hope.
Lan Zhan drops every one of his classes that day for him. He stays home because he knows that Wei Ying doesn't want to be alone. Even though it's entirely his fault, even though he was the one that did this, he offers him nothing but sympathy and understanding. He makes him pancakes, and he watches whatever weird TV shows Wei Ying insists that they watch together, and he lets him steal his rabbit pajamas.
When he does all this, it's hard to remind himself that it's not love.
Every so often, after he does something particularly thoughtful, or says something particularly kind, he'll excuse himself to the bathroom. He'll shut the door, take a breath, and then take off his gloves, one by one.
He'll force himself to look at his hands. The blank slope of his thumb. The bare plane of his palm. A reminder of what he is. A reminder of what he is to the people he loves. He breathes through it. It isn't punishment, just a reality check.
It's one thing to accept kindness from others with thanks. It's another thing entirely to take and take and continue to expect more. He should be happy with what he has, for now, and meet its inevitable ending with understanding and peace. He should not be angry or sad at Lan Zhan when he changes his mind, when he realizes he's been mislabeling something, when he decides that he'd like some time away. That would be unfair. It isn't what he deserves.
The hope never quite dies, not all the way. He can't see the warmth in Lan Zhan's eyes and not hope. He knows it will make things more painful, later, when he finally overstays his welcome, but it continues to live in his chest. Its heartbeat is a broken, wounded thing. It's the lopsided triplets in Death and Transfiguration, a depiction of a man on his deathbed, the consequence of the permanent kind of hurt. It limps and it skips and it stutters-- but it won't quite die.
--
Lan Qiren arrives, eventually, and this ache is one he's agreed to.
Lan Zhan opens the door, Wei Ying loitering like a shadow over his shoulder, and he shrinks when he sees Lan Qiren's expression. He has never seen this set of eyebrows before.
"Young man," Lan Qiren says, stepping into the apartment, frowning. "Young man," he says again.
"Yes?" He says weakly.
"We sightread new music today. I expect you both will prepare it well on your own time." He looks between the both of them.
Wei Ying had really been expecting a sharper lecture. He blinks. "Uh." He clears his throat. "Of course."
Lan Qiren looks uncomfortably at the living room. "Let's sit. My nephew told me about your suspected... affliction."
Affliction? Wei Ying looks from Lan Zhan back to Lan Qiren. "Um. Sure."
Lan Qiren leads him to the couch and tells him to sit, and then he follows suit. Lan Zhan watches with rapt attention. Wei Ying just wants this to be over already.
"I'm going to need to touch you," Lan Qiren says. "Are you okay with that?"
Touch for medical purposes is much different, of course, but it is still touch.
"Sure," he chokes out, and he forces himself to turn his head, lock his eyes on the window, and keep them there.
"I'm going to place my fingers on your left wrist," Lan Qiren warns, and a few seconds later, he feels just that. He does not look. He does not look at his wrist, and he does not look at Lan Qiren's face, and he certainly does not look at Lan Zhan.
He feels, in an odd sort of way, Lan Qiren looking within him. He should probably prepare something to say, once Lan Qiren finds nothing and they'll all have to sit here awkwardly. He knows it'll be up to him, to relieve the tension, the uncomfortable silence. It always is.
But then, after only a few seconds, Lan Qiren pulls away. Wei Ying is about to make a joke about his uninspired search when Lan Qiren says, "yes, there is a curse. It is quite a formidable one."
Wei Ying's neck hurts with the speed at which he whips around to look at him. "What?"
"There is a curse," Lan Qiren repeats. "Preventing people from leaving marks on you."
Lan Qiren does not strike him as the kind of person to play a practical joke. "Very funny."
He wants to leave, he wants desperately to leave, but he does not know where else he would go.
"That is not a joke," Lan Qiren frowns at him.
"How to undo it?" Lan Zhan asks.
"It will be broken when the person who placed it touches him." Lan Qiren turns to Wei Ying. "Is there anyone in your life that you suspect would wish a curse upon you?"
Wei Ying is still trying to understand the phrases there is a curse and not a joke. "What? No."
"I believe I know," Lan Zhan says.
Lan Qiren nods and stands. Wei Ying watches him, feeling like he is miles behind everyone else. "I'll leave you to sort this out. But I expect you both to be in rehearsal tomorrow, with the new material prepared."
Wei Ying is so preoccupied by not being crushed under the weight of Lan Qiren's gaze that it takes him a moment to realize he's being invited back to rehearsal.
"Did Lan Zhan tell you--" he winces. "Well, the thing is--"
"I'm aware of your..." Lan Qiren sighs. "Previous activities. I am also aware that they were decisions made under duress." Lan Qiren and Lan Zhan share a look. "Jin Guangshan has been under investigation for quite some time now. I believe it may be found that his recent decisions regarding the... financial situations... of certain students... to be unjust."
Wei Ying watches, with his mouth open, as Lan Qiren continues to deliver, in pained terms, what seems to be vague comfort.
"Just ask for help next time, boy, instead of jumping straight into delinquency," Lan Qiren grumbles. "And don't forget to practice, I meant it." He shuts the door firmly on his way out.
Wei Ying sits there blinking for a couple seconds. "Uh," he manages. "Was that your uncle trying to be supportive?"
Lan Zhan has an incredibly soft look on his face. He reaches over to hold Wei Ying's hand. "I believe so. Are you okay?"
"Uh," he swallows. "I think I might be freaking out? A little."
"Would you like some water?" Lan Zhan asks him. "A hug?"
"Yep," he says, leaning over for the second, "I would like both of those things." He squeezes his eyes shut, though, and does not let go of Lan Zhan to let him go get water.
It is only a moment later that the door opens and Lan Huan walks in. He must have passed his uncle on his way in, and clearly some of what had happened was communicated, because Lan Huan has a kind of stricken look on his face. Wei Ying pulls away from his brother and laughs awkwardly for a second, wondering what he should say, before he realizes that the reason Lan Huan looks so surprised probably has more to do with the fact that he is touching his brother than whatever curse nonsense is going on.
"What's up," is all he manages, after a second.
"Good afternoon," Lan Huan returns. His gaze slips to Lan Zhan, and then some brotherly telepathy happens that he tries to ignore for privacy reasons.
"I have an unavoidable errand to run," Lan Zhan says, suddenly.
Wei Ying blinks at him. "Wait, what?"
Lan Zhan looks at him, a slightly apologetic look on his face. "It's important. Is that okay?"
"I can make dinner," Lan Huan suggests. He smiles at Wei Ying. "You're welcome to assist." And by 'assist,' of course, he means 'sit in the kitchen while we discuss Emmanuel Pahud and I do all of the actual cooking so that nothing ends in a tragic fire accident.'
"Sure," Wei Ying says shakily, nodding at Lan Zhan. "I can stay here with your brother. You're not about to go and murder someone, are you? Because you kind of have your murder face on."
"I do not have a murder face," Lan Zhan says calmly. He absolutely does. "I believe I know who cursed you."
Ah, that again. The curse. Which he apparently has.
"Yeah?" he asks, completely and utterly lost.
"Your mother never touched you," Lan Zhan says. "You were adopted when you were five years old, and she never touched you."
Wei Ying gulps. Luckily, Lan Huan had sensed the personal nature of the conversation and had migrated into the kitchen. "So?"
"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says. "Does that not seem unusual to you?"
Wei Ying shrugs. "I was five," he says. His voice is not nearly as steady as he wants it to to be. "It's not like I needed help with baths, anymore." He tries to laugh.
Lan Zhan's mouth tightens. "I believe she cursed you."
"That's silly, Lan Zhan," he says. "That doesn't make any sense."
"I would like to confront her about it."
"You'd like to walk up to my mother and accuse her of cursing me?" he asks.
"Yes," Lan Zhan nods. "Once she is aware that we know, there is no reason for her to continue to maintain the facade. I believe she will cooperate."
"I--" he shakes his head. "Okay."
He already knew this is going to end up in a very embarrassing series of events, but he can already tell by the expression on Lan Zhan's face that it is not going to be a series of events that he can stop. "Uh, good luck, I guess. What exactly is the plan? Do you need some sort of weapon?"
"I do not," Lan Zhan says. "I will appeal to her sense of logic, make her understand that I am aware of what she has done, and demand that she break the curse."
"Cool." Wei Ying's voice comes out half choked. "Yeah, cool plan. So I'll just be here, in your apartment with your brother, waiting for you and Madame Yu to show up at the door so she can un-curse me, or whatever?"
"Yes," Lan Zhan says. "Is that alright?"
"Yep," Wei Ying puts up a thumbs up. "Totally great. Can't wait for the showdown."
Lan Zhan gives him a sharp nod, and puts on his coat, and does not grab any last-minute weapons on his way out the door, but that's entirely on him. Wei Ying spends the next couple of eternities in the kitchen with Lan Huan, trying to make it look like he isn't freaking out. Lan Huan, the angel that he is, clearly understands that the situation needs quiet and calm, so he continues to chop vegetables and occasionally poses questions about flute players that he knows Wei Ying cannot resist ranting on about.
He is on his feet as soon as he hears the door open. He rushes over to the entryway, and the sight of both Lan Zhan and Madame Yu in the same doorframe is not one he thought he'd ever see. Lan Zhan steps inside, taking off his coat, and then steps to Wei Ying's side, taking his hand. Wei Ying doesn't know what to say, but Lan Zhan seems to be looking at Madame Yu expectantly, so he follows his lead.
"I will not apologize." Madame Yu says after a moment. Her hair is pulled back immaculately as always. She looks at him darkly. "The curse kept you modest. It is the reason you were willing to protect A-Cheng and A-Li above all else. I will not apologize for it." Lan Zhan's hand in his tightens to the point of pain. "But since you already know, there's no point in keeping it."
She raises her hand, sighing as if this is some great difficulty, and looks expectantly at him. He gapes, for a moment, before carefully detaching himself from Lan Zhan's steel handhold and stepping forward. He raises a hand and, with an emotion he can't even describe himself, reaches out to touch her hand.
His index finger makes contact with the heel of her palm. Something sharp runs through him, through his fingers and down to his toes, like he'd stuck his finger in an electrical socket. He breathes sharply, taking his hand away, but Madame Yu's expression is unchanged. She apparently doesn't feel the need to say anything; she appraises him for a moment, and then she turns and leaves.
Lan Zhan steps forward and shuts the door sharply. His hand takes a long moment to fall from the wood.
"I--" Wei Ying starts. "I'm not sure I understand what just happened."
"The curse was inherited from your biological mother," Lan Zhan explains, words slow and pointed. He's well and truly angry. "She told me she'd placed it on her to punish children out of wedlock with her husband."
"Are you--" he laughs, humorlessly, and shakes his head. "Are you sure?"
It all sounds so contrived. Like a happy dream he'd wake up from and wonder how he ever thought it made sense at the time.
"It is inexcusable," Lan Zhan grinds out. "If it is alright with you, I'd like to take legal action."
"Whoa, hold on," Wei Ying says shakily. "What?"
"She cursed you," Lan Zhan says. "She cursed a child. She thought a child deserved to think they were not loved."
It feels like a very dangerous thing to accept. "Are we, uh. Sure?"
"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan looks sad. "She touched you. The curse is broken. There is a very easy way to find out, if you're okay with it."
"Oh, yeah, sure. Of course." There are words coming out of his mouth without permission. "Yeah, let's do it."
"You've already given me one, so it will only be one-way," Lan Zhan says. He takes a single step forward. "We can wait a moment, if you'd prefer. We can wait as long as you'd like."
"Nope," Wei Ying squeaks. "Might as well squeeze as much wild shit as possible into one day. Yeah? Yeah."
Lan Zhan takes another step forward. "Can you take off your glove?"
Wei Ying takes the right one off and then holds up his hand, palm up. He feels like he's dreaming. "Go for it," he says weakly.
Lan Zhan brings his hand to cover Wei Ying's, pressing their palms together and wrapping his fingers around to the front. He stays like this for a moment, makes eye contact with Wei Ying, and then releases his hand.
He is so used to not looking at it, after. Everything in him screams not to look. But he knows that Lan Zhan will, and if he is, then Wei Ying should make an effort too.
His palm is stained with a bright white. It glints in the light, reflects brightly as he tilts his hand from side to side. This is not a dream. Abruptly, everything that Lan Zhan has said to him makes sense.
"Oh," Wei Ying chokes out. He cannot stop looking at it. "You. You do love me."
"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan reaches out to grab the same hand, covering it in the same way. "You are loved by so many. I'm sorry you have not believed it, before." He squeezes his hand. "I hope you will believe it now."
"What are you going to do, parade everyone I know through your apartment?"
He wants to touch his brother. His sister. He wants to touch little Jin Ling.
"Yes," Lan Zhan says firmly. "Is that okay?"
"Yep." He grins. "This is what it takes for the Lan brothers to finally throw a party, huh? The breaking of a curse?"
Lan Zhan just looks at him, and Wei Ying can suddenly put a name to the gentleness in his eyes.
"I love you too, you know," he says. "I was scared to say it, before, because I thought you were going to end up taking your love back, and I didn't want to be the only one."
Lan Zhan frowns. "You are not the only one," he says firmly.
"I think I'm starting to get that," he says, amazed that it's not a lie. He exhales, shaking his head. "Hey, Lan Zhan," hardly believing that he's daring to ask, even as the words come out of his mouth. "There are a lot of kinds of love."
Lan Zhan hums.
"What kind do you have for me?"
Lan Zhan takes a moment to think. "I want to spend my life at your side," he says. "I want to play duets with you. I want to raise rabbits and children with you. I want to marry you, if that is something you want."
Wei Ying is stunned. "Did you just propose to me?"
Lan Zhan hums. "Is that alright?" He asks.
"That's not the right order, Lan Zhan! You've got to ask me on a date first!"
"Alright," Lan Zhan agrees. "Will you go on a date with me?"
"Absolutely," Wei Ying says.
"Now will you marry me?"
Wei Ying laughs, and can't stop laughing, and only barely forms the words to agree. "God damn it Lan Zhan, of course I'll marry you." Suddenly, is reminded of the absolutely shocked look on Lan Huan's face when he'd seen them hugging only earlier today. He wonders what the next level of that expression looks like. He raises his voice, angling his head towards the kitchen. "Hey, Lan Huan, is it okay if I marry your brother?"
There is the sound of a dish dropping. Lan Zhan's face breaks into a smile, a true smile, and Wei Ying thinks that everything might turn out okay, actually.