Archive of Our Own ^beta

In hindsight, he should’ve expected this. The place is too tempting for the outcasts like Wei Ying and someone who wants to simply hide from everyone and everything at once. Again, like Wei Ying.

He had been assured that no one will disturb him, that the area is barely serviceable and has been abandoned for many years because of the mandatory rehousing, and the only neighbours he can expect are occasional wild hares and harvesting combines for the fields nearby. Then he found Donkey, which – that should’ve sparked some suspicion. It didn’t.

He should’ve bought the entire village.

Wei Ying peers through the slit in the sun-bleached curtains and coughs because of the dust they’ve collected. It dances in the light and whirls just like his thought about a whole freaking human across the broken fence Wei Ying never fixed because there was no need. He's lived here for years, there was no one to protect his property from. It makes scary sounds when the wind picks up, but that's it.

The guy’s car is that sort of vehicle that can fit few people but a lot of life garbage if you’re running away. He’s been shuttling between his – his – house and the car for so long Wei Ying’s tea has gone cold and irrelevant. Everything seems insignificant now that Wei Ying has a human neighbour. And the guy just absolutely had to buy the house right next to his.

The house that his neighbour is going to occupy is in even worse condition than Wei Ying's, he surmises. Wei Ying had chosen his randomly and lucked out quite a bit, for once. Yes, he’d slept on the floor for months, his fingers had suffered a lot of hammer missing the nail action because your hands tremble when you’re not used to manual work, and manual work is the only thing in your life now. But when he first stepped into his future home, he’d sat on the floor of the empty kitchen until the housing agent got suspicious that he wanted to do something horrible to himself while she was waiting outside. The scene and his expression were very fitting, she’d confessed.

Wei Ying realises he's not being subtle because the guy spots him on round five hundred of juggling his belongings and startles badly, and so does Wei Ying. The nasty intruder doesn’t drop his box, but he misses a step. Wei Ying inhales more dust and hits his hip on the corner of the dining table while retreating further into the house. First impression, they say.

Wei Ying chews on the inside of his cheek and thumbs his hip mindlessly, watching the newly-minted city expellee from the window of his bedroom. Should he call that girl and ask her what the actual fuck, couldn’t they give the lost soul a house at least on the outskirts or whatever, because if someone’s that desperate to disappear, having a man – a Wei Ying – across a patch of land is a poor star alignment and a worse sense of humour on the part of those who didn’t tell the guy about Wei Ying. Wei Ying’s chest hurts right in the middle.

The guy has quite a few possessions. He's done with boxes, a vacuumed roll of the mattress and what looks like a mini-fridge by the time Wei Ying has bitten his left thumb to the pink flesh. He doesn’t check on Wei Ying’s house once, which is so rude and uncivilised and why. Exactly how Wei Ying would do himself. And yet.

Wei Ying scratches at the blistered paint on the windowsill, and it flakes off onto his sweats like gnarly confetti. He digs his nail in until a coin-sized hole shows the clean, wrinkly wood. He unclenches his jaw. It’s just a broken man. Nothing Wei Ying hasn’t seen before.

He hasn't, however, seen a toolbox among those possessions. Hasn't spotted a bucket or anything to get water from the spring, which the guy is definitely unaware of. He will drink tap water and Wei Ying will have to talk the ambulance driver through the roads here and – no.

Donkey leaps up onto the windowsill and nudges his hand with her nose. Smelling nothing worth her attention, she looks up at Wei Ying, only mildly annoyed. He scratches her behind the ear.

"Do you think he'll like us?"

Not that it matters. What if Wei Ying doesn’t like him? 

The vein in the meat of his palm jumps and bothers him as Wei Ying rummages through the kitchen and preheats the oven. It is midday. He gives himself and the guy time to settle and for the dough to rise.

The basket gets filled with jars and pouches and everything Wei Ying considers frankly gorgeous – apples and some grapes from the orchard, pickles, jams, tea, bread. All are product of his labour and a please don’t kill me if you’re a serial killer looking for a temporary shelter kind of present. Which is silly, because Wei Ying just really wants to help him settle. There was no one to do that for him.

He waits for the windows to light up in the house. They do.

“At least he brought lightbulbs,” Wei Ying mutters. As a seasoned semi-caveman, he's proud of this city boy. But he also needs to know about electricity that can often go out at weird times. About the fence. The path to the stream. And he needs a toolbox.

Rounding his patch of land, Wei Ying peers into the windows and trips on his own dropped jaw. There are already curtains on the windows. So they did tell him about Wei Ying, or the guy’s weird and brought them himself. Who would need them in the middle of nowhere? Wei Ying got his half a year ago and only because of a sudden surge of homeliness.

Wei Ying knocks on the door with his foot because he's stupid and his hands are full. No, he won't put the basket down, he wants to look threateningly welcoming when the guy opens the door.

The guy opens the door and, despite the general lack of light in late autumn, Wei Ying is instantly lost at the sight of him. It's either Wei Ying hasn't seen a person for too long, or some wayward god decided to spend his banishment near Wei Ying's hut, which is, uh, unfortunate. He looks exactly like he’s about to wring Wei Ying’s neck, but make it classy.

The guy stares at Wei Ying's arms and Wei Ying stares at his everything. He’s pretty and so, so angry.

"Welcome home?" Wei Ying tries. He shakes the basket for good measure. "I'm Wei Ying. It's for you."

The guy looks unfairly good. He's in jeans and has several rags in his hand. The hand is big, dirty.

"I was told the neighbourhood is abandoned," the guy rumbles in such a gorgeous voice. He’s glaring now. Ungrateful city bitch.

Maybe the housing agent thought Wei Ying was dead already. Funny how no one came to check on that before selling a house next to his.

"Yeah, well," Wei Ying cannot look at him for too long, and glances around instead. There’s so much dust and leaves and rotten things. If someone told him about the arrival, Wei Ying would’ve cleaned up a bit for this lost soul. "It is. It's only me and Donkey."

"Donkey."

"My cat,” Wei Ying sticks his chin out in the general direction of Donkey somewhere at home. “Not mine but mine. Her previous owners left her behind, I suppose. She'll come to you if she smells food, which, she will."

The guy raises one eyebrow. "You named a cat Donkey."

He’s like that, then. Wei Ying tilts his head and smiles, all teeth. "I'll assess your own imagination later. Help me out?"

The guy's mouth twitches. It looks like he wants to scowl, or laugh, or – whatever. He frowns as he takes the basket and Wei Ying pulls his hands away to avoid even a brush of fingers. The back of his neck prickles all the same.

"As I said," Wei Ying clears the throat, "it's for you." The guy zeroes in on a tea towel. Wei Ying knows he can smell the bread. "I won't bother you, but please return the jars when you're done. You can have the basket, too," Wei Ying offers, "I'll weave more for you, if you want. Need, I mean."

The man jerks his head up. His frown mellows out. "You made it?"

And everything you’re holding right now, actually. Wei Ying scratches the back of his neck. "Got bored and learned it. Anyway, there's a path to the spring, it's well-trodden by now, just behind my house. I can lend you a bucket for the water if you don't have one. Don’t drink the water from the tap, the puddle would be better. Tools are yours if you need them."

"I cannot use them."

"I can."

"Obviously."

Wei Ying will terrorise him, he decides quickly.

"Whistle if you need help."

"I cannot whistle."

Wei Ying sighs with his whole body. "Scream, then. You know my name."

Wei Ying's done a good job, he thinks. He didn't escalate things. Didn't pat the guy’s shoulder patronisingly, just told the basics and gave him food. He turns around to leave.

"Lan Zhan."

Wei Ying whips his head around, still walking. "Yeah?"

"My name," the man says, looking at the contents of the basket, "is Lan Zhan. Thank you for the gifts."

What a lovely guy. Wei Ying grins at him in soft darkness. "Stick around and find out where best to fish, Lan Zhan."

"Mn."

Wei Ying’s exhale is long and loud when he slides down the front door of his house. It’s fine. It’s just a Lan Zhan.

/

Lan Zhan doesn't knock on his door to ask for anything – a bucket, logs, advice, a shoulder to scream into. Wei Ying is a little concerned, very restless still. Paranoid to some extent, even, because what if Lan Zhan does something bad to himself, like Wei Ying was suspected of at the beginning. Yes, Lan Zhan was cleaning when they met, but it doesn’t rule out anything. You never know what’s going on in someone’s head. Wei Ying did say he won’t bother him, but maybe if he could just… make sure.

Wei Ying chews on his lower lip and does his best to admit that he’s giddy and excited and terrified to have a person to talk to. Lan Zhan must be sick of people. The potential is not great.

In the following days, Lan Zhan doesn't really leave the house at all, Wei Ying doesn't think. Decidedly does not keep vigil. Just keeps an eye on it. Both eyes. And sends out Donkey for food reconnaissance. No luck yet.

He finally sees Lan Zhan three days later walking behind his house and down the path to the spring with an empty six-litre bottle, and relaxes all at once. Wei Ying scolds himself for literally pacing around and worrying to the extent of spying because of his savage need to protect everyone, especially when it’s not required. He pokes the half-rotten wood of the fence. Wei Ying likes it – it creates a nice shade over the tomatoes in the July sun just after midday. He needs to ask Lan Zhan if he likes tomatoes.

Before Wei Ying moved here, he was a night owl, or a vampire, friends laughed. Friends, Wei Ying thinks, toeing at the yellowish grass and some leaves that he needs to rake. Now, in summer, he wakes up at four or five because it's too bright and he has to work while it’s not scorching hot. He wakes up himself, without an alarm, body long used to the rhythm of nature. The first week he got here, he'd sleep for twelve hours a day, interrupted by gasps and tears at times. It's easier now and he sleeps better and longer in colder months anyway.

Donkey jumps on his shoulder and he pats her butt to arrange her around the neck, and takes the rake, clearing the orchard and the backyard of pretty fiery leaves and wind-broken twigs. Wei Ying checks the birdhouses for seeds and harvests the remaining plums from the trees across a little clearing. The weather has been steadily dropping in degrees, promising more snow than rain.

It's well into the afternoon when Wei Ying starts peeking out of the window more often, waiting for Lan Zhan to come back. Not to talk to him, because, in the end, both of them came here for the same reason of solitude, and who Wei Ying is to deprive him of that. But – he worries. He cooks late lunch or early dinner, depending on when you go to bed, and keeps walking around the house and peeking out of every window just to check that Lan Zhan is okay and has made it home safely.

It's six o’clock, it’s dark, and Wei Ying takes his large flashlight and goes to look for him. Dinner is stone-heavy in his stomach as he checks the spring first and finds no one there, as expected. Wei Ying will call the services if Lan Zhan does not return home come morning.

He sees Lan Zhan's footmarks and curses himself for being so hysterical for no reason. There are no wolves here, at least, but a forest is a forest, so Wei Ying just keeps going and following the steps. Maybe Lan Zhan felt sick and fainted. Maybe he found another house, other people, talked to them. Maybe he got lost. Maybe he wanted to get lost.

What feels like an hour and three added streaks of grey hair later, he sees movement not that far away, and stops. The trees are not yet that bare to see clearly, it can be a deer, so he calls quite loudly, "Lan Zhan, is that you?"

"Wei Ying?" Lan Zhan's voice comes. There's more movement, and Lan Zhan steps out from behind the trees, squints at the light, covering his eyes with his palm. He has a plastic bag hanging off his wrist and the empty bottle.

Wei Ying's exhale is so thorough it comes from the pit of his stomach.

"Did something happen?" Lan Zhan asks. Yes, Wei Ying wants to yell, I thought you died and got so fucking scared I want to puke my dinner out.

"No, just thought you got lost and went out to find you," he says instead, pointing the light downwards. "Got your fresh air, I see?" In theory, if Lan Zhan has his phone on him, he could see his imprints and walk back home. Was doing it, Wei Ying thinks, biting his dry lips to a bloody mess. He still does it, twenty years of habit be damned. He got terrified of losing a man he doesn't even know. Nice.

Lan Zhan walks up to him, unperturbed. Wei Ying wants to shake him and cry a little. He got so scared.

"Yes," Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying hears how his tone is not at all brittle. "I wanted to walk around."

"Mn," Wei Ying allows, mad. "Enjoyed your walk?"

Lan Zhan searches his face and obviously sees what Wei Ying doesn’t even want to think about. "Yes."

"Good," Wei Ying says, and starts walking back home. Lan Zhan follows him, keeping a respectable distance, but doesn’t say a word about the frantic pace. Wei Ying turns the light off and clutches the handle so hard it hurts his knuckles. 

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan calls when they can already see the houses not that far away. "Wei Ying, wait."

Wei Ying turns around. "What it is?"

Lan Zhan raises his elbow with a bag dangling off of it. “I have foraged some walnuts, mushrooms, and rosehip. I got on the hill and saw the smoke from your chimney and followed it."

Wei Ying's grip on the flashlight tightens. "So you got lost."

"No," Lan Zhan says immediately. "But I have walked too far away, and it got dark. I made you worry. I'm sorry."

He sounds much calmer than when he first arrived. Maybe he, too, has slept some of his past life off. Wei Ying smiles at him, because Lan Zhan deserves it. He didn't panic and walked home. He saw Wei Ying's smoke and used it as a beacon.

"It's fine, just don't eat the mushrooms until I see them, okay? Good job with rosehip, you can make tea for when – if you get a cold."

Lan Zhan nods very seriously at him, and Wei Ying huffs out a hollow laugh. They fill Lan Zhan’s bottle and Wei Ying automatically tells him to mind his steps on the slippery rocks. Lan Zhan does.

They hover at the back of Wei Ying’s house for no reason other than because it’s the most illuminated spot. Wei Ying waves the lantern vaguely, "Alright, go make yourself a hot dinner and a cup of tea. I have mint if you want, and honey."

"Thank you," Lan Zhan says, and, quieter, "please."

At home, Donkey has eaten the rest of the dinner and even licked the plate clean. Wei Ying swats her off the table and fetches mint, honeysuckle and honey.

Lan Zhan is waiting for him on his own porch, coat off. He has a light there already. Wei Ying is impressed.

"There you go," Wei Ying says, handing him another basket, smaller this time. "Do you need anything else?"

Lan Zhan shakes his head. In the proper light, Wei Ying sees that Lan Zhan's fingers are yellow from taking the walnuts out of the shells. "Thank you for looking for me."

Wei Ying shrugs. "You'd do the same, eh?"

Lan Zhan’s blink is very cute and more than reassuring. Wei Ying wonders how old he is. He looks younger than Wei Ying, but that's no indicator. With what Wei Ying has been through, he looks older than his sister.

"I will warn you next time," Lan Zhan promises.

Wei Ying grins, territorial and unapologetic. Yes, he feels like a park ranger, so sue him. “Okay. Sleep well, Zhanzhan."

It slips out without his say whatsoever, and he flees before he registers Lan Zhan's expression. Good. Fine. Nicely done, Wei Ying. Pet names for strangers.

He washes the plate and the fork for longer than needed, holds his hands under the water until the fingertips become pruney and pale. Wei Ying makes tea instead of taking out any alcohol, and goes to sit outside in the rocking chair.

The light on the first floor of Lan Zhan's house dims a little later and then in his bedroom too. Wei Ying wraps a blanket around his bent knees and beckons Donkey to get up, and she starts purring as soon as Wei Ying puts a hand on her.

He's acutely aware he hasn't touched another person in years, so he doubles the cat-petting efforts just to feel some comfort from it. Wei Ying’s tears are stubborn as panic finally catches up with him and then recedes at once. He hasn't talked so much in over five years, not with people in real life or in text. He feels ridiculous and small. He wants to be petted and made tea.

Donkey headbutts him into the cheek when he stops scratching her to wipe at his face, and he laughs wetly.

"Sorry, my lady. Got scared of losing people again, didn't I?"

Donkey swishes her tail over his face and hops off to catch a mouse, or whatever. Wei Ying finishes his tea and goes to bed, making sure the fire is not strong enough to cause harm while he sleeps but big enough for some smoke if Lan Zhan goes out at night.

/

"Yeah, you can eat them."

Lan Zhan inclines his head, then nods at the fruit trees Wei Ying has been pruning all morning. Lan Zhan didn't even say good morning to him, but that's fine. Wei Ying didn't talk for days on end, before, even to his cat. Lan Zhan didn't move here to talk. Wei Ying smiles at him anyway. "Wanna help?"

Lan Zhan puts down the bowl with the mushrooms, already washed.

"If you want to go foraging again, I can make you a little basket," Wei Ying says, showing the approximate size, "and for berries in summer." If you stay here for this long.

Wei Ying shows him which branches need chopping off, explains the width of space between them. Lan Zhan cuts the trees in silence while Wei Ying talks about how he brought the trees here and they liked the earth, and he's had apples for two years now. He kind of steals the plums. Easier with raspberry bushes, he instructs, and Lan Zhan hunches over the bare sticks that need some love too.

Lan Zhan leaves just as quietly as he came, and Wei Ying shouts that he forgot the mushrooms.

Lan Zhan seems lost; off, even. Wei Ying is no judge or help here, so he lets it slide and paints the shed, red this time. He changes the colour every year just because. It was navy, now it's red. Maybe yellow next year.

There's not much to do, it's late autumn. But Wei Ying has been putting off the ordeal of shovelling for long enough for it to become nearly a problem, so he gets to that, coat off and sleeves rolled above his elbows. He finds several potatoes he’s missed when plucking them out weeks prior. They’ve already a little overgrown, so he tosses them into the pile to plant next year.

The weather is nice and sunny, the last gentle days of the year are upon them, and he considers suggesting Lan Zhan and he go for a walk to show him around, no talking if Lan Zhan doesn't want to. Wei Ying knows he's being intrusive by just thinking about that, so he goes for walks mostly alone – Donkey likes travelling on his shoulder or in his hood sometimes, and keeps following him because cats get bored too.

It starts raining heavily at the end of the week. Wei Ying is choosing which of Isaak Asimov's books will keep him company today when Lan Zhan knocks on his door.

Lan Zhan, Wei Ying decides carefully, is exhausted and wet.

"My roof is leaking," Lan Zhan announces. He looks like an irritated cat that was bathed against its will. Wei Ying beckons him to come inside and fetches a blanket.

"Sit by the fire. Which room?"

Lan Zhan doesn't want to sit down and follows him around, but accepts the woolly blanket. "Bedroom."

"You stay here, I'll do it."

"No."

"Yes," Wei Ying refutes, throwing on his raincoat. He needs to get the ladder and everything. He's not sure he's got the wood and spare roof tiles at the ready. "You stay here and make tea, I'll fix it."

Lan Zhan shakes the blanket off. "I will help."

There are shadows under his eyes, not horrible but still there. Wei Ying doubts Lan Zhan will be any help up there, but if it makes him feel better and more at ease – Wei Ying is more than willing to provide that. Wei Ying instructs him to get the toolbox ready – it's still at Lan Zhan's house. It's raining hellishly, so Wei Ying can't even imagine how bad it is if Lan Zhan came to him.

He wants to hold his breath before he enters the house, and he doesn't know why. There are houses in the area, not many, but Wei Ying never really explored them. Not because of the lack of curiosity but because people lived there, and he was determined not to borrow or stick his nose where he wasn't welcome, even if it's someone’s long-abandoned dwelling.

Lan Zhan's house is exactly like his in terms of planning, but it feels very different. Very ascetic and clean and airy. Wei Ying's looks like a wayward witch lives there, with drying herbs and socks and whatnot spread on the thin jute threads in the kitchen. Lan Zhan's smells of something pine-y. Wei Ying guesses Lan Zhan had brought and made all the furniture himself and did, in the end, use the screw gun to make the bed – it's new, low, with a few plastic buckets on it. They're full of water, and Lan Zhan empties them into the open window.

It's bad. Wei Ying gets on the roof, rain slashing across his face and back. He prays he doesn't break through the broken tiles and the old wood, because that's what happened to him the first time he tried to fix his own roof.

Lan Zhan looks out of the window. The rain hits him right in the face. "Bad?"

"Nah," Wei Ying lies cheerfully, wiping at his face with zero success. Lan Zhan, too, is getting soaked, and his cute curtains with little blue flowers on them. "A couple of hours of work."

It takes him three hours and Lan Zhan on the roof to be done with it. Wei Ying did yell at him not to get up, because the roof might collapse, but Lan Zhan was stubborn enough not to care about it, perhaps content with falling down along with Wei Ying. Wei Ying uses up all his spare tiles and wood to cover the holes where the wood has rotten, the long nails almost impossible to tap in because the wood that was okay is now hard to work with because it’s sodden and cracks.

"Nice," Wei Ying comments, leaving puddles on Lan Zhan's bedroom floor. The leakage has stopped and the bed is saved. Lan Zhan is saved. Lan Zhan's puddles are just as big as Wei Ying's.

Lan Zhan looks at the ceiling that keeps dripping a little from the residual water.

"Nice."

"Right," Wei Ying says, feeling extremely out of place. He doesn't snoop around, not really. There's a desk in the bedroom, a small chest of drawers, a mirror – all old but in a decent condition, lacquered anew. Lan Zhan's slippers are under the bed. "I'll go get changed. Go home, I mean."

Lan Zhan’s hair is drying curly at the ends. He doesn’t look at Wei Ying at all. "Yes."

Wei Ying tries not to walk too eagerly, to leave less of a trace, but his boots are squelching and he can’t feel his hands much. He and Lan Zhan are wet to the bones. They might come down with something.

Donkey hisses at him when he swishes his arm at her and heavy droplets get in her face. Wei Ying has domesticated her enough to have semi-regular baths and clean paws, but she hates rain. But she will forget him. She always does.

Against his better judgment, Wei Ying is not by the fire or in bed, but outside, in the rocking chair and with an almost empty bottle of booze to keep him company. It's dark and it's still raining. Everything smells of leaves. He smells of Lan Zhan's house a little. He still hasn't changed.

"Wei Ying?"

He startles. Not severely, just enough to make Lan Zhan's fingers curl around whatever he's holding. It looks like a saucepan.

"I knocked," Lan Zhan explains, hovering by the doorway. "You didn't open."

Wei Ying taps his fingers on the bottle and points at the rain with his chin. "Didn't hear."

Lan Zhan steps forward. He did change, and his hair is full-on fuzzy. He looks cute and almost apologetic, but it’s hard to see him well through the haze of the alcohol. "I made mushroom soup."

"Good boy," Wei Ying smiles at him. "Sit?"

Lan Zhan ducks back into the house and comes back with two bowls. 

"Thank you," Lan Zhan says. He's sat on the low bench and his knees are wide apart. Wei Ying thinks he will get cold, so he drags the blanket onto Lan Zhan's knees.

"Mm?"

Lan Zhan eats half of the soup before he speaks. "For everything."

For the briefest of moments, Wei Ying feels sick to the stomach as he holds the bowl and the smell of food cuts through everything. The steam is gentle and carries the scent of broth and wild herbs, and it makes Wei Ying’s eyes water horrifyingly fast. The last time someone’s cooked for him was so long ago he feels helpless with gratification, feels wrong-footed. Wei Ying eats everything without glancing at Lan Zhan, hoping that a fixed roof covers the mental expenses of feeding a stranger. Lan Zhan's cooking is delicious and not brute like of someone’s who cooks just to survive, like Wei Ying. Lan Zhan must be a good, willing cook. Wei Ying offers him the rest of the booze, but Lan Zhan shakes his head. Instead, he takes out a pack of cigarettes and offers them to Wei Ying.

"You smoke?" Wei Ying asks dumbly.

Lan Zhan lights one, shielding the fire with his hand. "Picked up when my brother went missing."

Wei Ying sobers up in moments and makes a lost sound at the back of his throat. "Lan Zhan – "

"He was returned to us," Lan Zhan interrupts him, shaking off the ash. "Half a year later. Whole. Alive."

"But?"

"Uncle died two days later," Lan Zhan says. "Heart."

Wei Ying nods into his knees. "I'm sorry."

Lan Zhan hums and stretches his legs. The wind carries the smoke and the scent of Lan Zhan's clothes. Wei Ying offers him alcohol once more.

“I don't want to sleep," Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying understands.

"Picked up knitting, too," Lan Zhan says randomly. He lets out the smoke, strong and without finesse. "Made my hands busy, not mind."

"I moved here five years ago, give or take," Wei Ying offers. He doesn't feel like sharing, but it's only fair.

"Give or take?"

"I don't count the days." The days I've spent without family. "Makes it easier sometimes."

Donkey emerges from the house and leaps onto Lan Zhan's lap. Lan Zhan pets her with single-minded focus, and Wei Ying watches him. Watches them. Lan Zhan's hands that made soup and held the tiles, now petting a half-bald old cat. His own hands, warm from the alcohol and soup, rough from the work.

"Is your house warm?"

Lan Zhan looks up at him. "Yes."

Wei Ying doesn't believe him. "Good."

Lan Zhan goes home, and Donkey follows him because she smells soup on him. Wei Ying is a little jealous, but only because he thought she'd sleep on his chest tonight. Lan Zhan has left the rest of the soup on the stove.

Lan Zhan doesn't leave the house in the next few days, but Wei Ying keeps coming to his front door, fingers hovering over the handle. Neither of them locks their house. Wei Ying wants to offer him something, to apologise for sort of being here in the first place.

He collects another care basket.

"I brought you bread and cherry jam," Wei Ying shouts, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waits to hear Lan Zhan’s steps and never does. "My chair is at your disposal."

The morning of the first snow is crisp, sky leaden. Wei Ying opens the door to go to the spring, and smiles stupidly. On his porch, there are the baskets he's given Lan Zhan. In one of them are his empty jars and a pair of knitted socks. Red, like the shed.

/

Wei Ying has never been a patient person, which mostly resulted in burnt fingertips and tongue, wrong moves in some games, typos, several jobs that he was fired at because he was too blunt with jerks at the top, harsh words with his brother – nothing he's not used to. So fishing was something he never thought he'd enjoy. And he doesn't, generally speaking, because this hunt is idle, requires time and him watching and waiting. Wei Ying thinks if it wasn't for the view and his undying love of water, he'd give up on it after the first try.

He doesn't have to fish, but he wants to. He doesn't need to sit on the bank, chewing on some grass in summer or freezing his toes and butt off in winter, but he likes that he can do it. Learnt it. He knows the place and the fish. He has a soft spot for it, now. Has a designated stump that he rolls up to the bank and sits on it, posture horrible and knees up to his chest, but it's old enough to be soft and comfortable at any time of the year.

Wei Ying makes a hole in the thin ice with an axe and casts the rod into the water. Donkey refused to follow him today, but he didn't ask Lan Zhan if he'd like to go. Wei Ying tries to give him space and time. He also tries to think about his first year here, ponders if he'd have liked if there was someone to help him out at that time. To help with the roof and the vegetable patches that grew to exist only by the end of summer and produced almost nothing because it was too late and he knew nothing about it, he just wanted to get away and did so as far as was possible. He doesn't have the answer. He just knows that he'll catch enough to give to Lan Zhan. Loneliness can be necessary and healing, but you need to eat. Lan Zhan can stay secluded for as long as he requires, Wei Ying will just... make it easier not to worry about a grumbling stomach.

Wei Ying looks up from the ice that is thin enough to crack it with an axe but not enough to walk on it and sit in the middle. It's windy, unpleasantly so, but he doesn't mind it, and shoves his hands into the thick mittens. After years spent here, he minds few things, if any.

He hears Lan Zhan before he sees him. Lan Zhan's gait is weirdly heavy, like he makes a statement with each step. The snow and twigs crunch under his boots. He'd make a bad hunter.

Wei Ying waves at him for several seconds before Lan Zhan notices him.

"More exploratory walks?" Wei Ying beams. Lan Zhan looks well-rested and ready for travel. His coat is not buttoned and he still wears jeans. Wei Ying abandoned his a week into his stay here, at best. "Or you got lost?"

Lan Zhan nods at the rod. "Are you out of food?"

Wei Ying's giggle comes out with little puffs of white air. "No, just enjoying being self-sufficient."

"I see."

Wei Ying scooches on the stump to make room for him, patting the warm wood. "Care to join?"

Lan Zhan shakes his head. "I am going to the city. Do you need anything?"

"No," Wei Ying smiles. He barely goes into the city. "Have fun, buy some treats for yourself. You're doing so well here, alone in the wilderness."

"I'm not alone. Wei Ying is here."

"I guess. And Donkey."

"Yes."

Wei Ying tries to look busy by probing the rod, which is the opposite of what he is supposed to do. "Anyway."

"I will return," Lan Zhan says, like he owes this to Wei Ying.

Wei Ying doesn't look at him. He can't. "Be careful."

Lan Zhan looms over him for a couple more seconds, then starts walking away. Wei Ying thinks that if it was sunny, Lan Zhan's shadow would make him shiver from the cold.

"I brought water for you," Lan Zhan throws over his shoulder. "While I was at the spring."

Wei Ying flaps his hand ungratefully, and disturbs the rod once again. Shadows can be cast differently. If Lan Zhan stood by his right shoulder, both of them would be warm.
But it's cold today, Wei Ying's joints ache. He knows it'll snow. He hopes Lan Zhan is careful on the road.

Wei Ying catches not nearly enough to save for later, because the ice will be thick and most of the fish will be asleep, but enough for the both of them to have for dinner, if Lan Zhan comes back.

He is fiddling with pollinating his chillies when he hears Lan Zhan's car. His hand jerks traitorously and one of the flowers falls. Minus one chilli pepper, Wei Ying thinks. Plus one Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying resists checking himself in the mirror. Instead, he goes to the window just to see, not to spy, if Lan Zhan brought anyone along. His brother, maybe. As soon as Wei Ying peeks through the curtain – yes, he left the light on the porch on for Lan Zhan, in case he gets lost in the dark near his house – he sees Lan Zhan walking not to his house, but to Wei Ying's, and Wei Ying scrambles to hide in the kitchen like he's been there all afternoon. Lan Zhan knocks, because he's polite and he thinks Wei Ying is busy.

"Yeah?" Wei Ying yells. He sounds like an excited pet. He surges to water his herbs.

Lan Zhan opens the door and stomps his feet on the frame to get rid of the snow. Wei Ying overwaters thyme.

"Wei Ying, I am home."

Wei Ying spills more water on the shelf with herbs. Home. "Great! How was it?"

"Semi-successful. Snowy. The roads are full. I saw accidents."

Wei Ying drops his little watering pot and curses. The water gets on his clothes and the wooden floor, no major damage, but Wei Ying's hands shake so much he lifts the thing only on the third try. He sees Lan Zhan's hand over his, over the pot, and shouts, "Don't touch me!" before Lan Zhan can – touch him. Lan Zhan jerks his hand away as if burnt and stumbles a little, and Wei Ying curls on himself, protective, wheezing. His chest hurts from how strong he presses his hand to it.

Lan Zhan is motionless behind him for so long Wei Ying’s hand starts stinging and then goes numb. "Wei Ying," Lan Zhan begins, and Wei Ying hears how unsettled he is. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," Wei Ying squeaks, voice muffled by his knees. "It's alright."

"Wei Ying, I'm sorry if I – "

"It's alright," Wei Ying says again, because Lan Zhan did nothing. "Please, just – come over for dinner?"

Lan Zhan will definitely hate him now because Wei Ying has scared the hell out of him. Because Wei Ying, what, hasn't touch anyone in years? Because he feels like he'd spread the curse of misfortune if he does? It's not like Lan Zhan needs any more. It's not like Lan Zhan is here to touch someone.

Lan Zhan stands up – he was on the floor, great, Wei Ying, made your neighbour fall over – and says nothing, just leaves and shuts the door after himself. Wei Ying waits until his knees get sore and only then does he get up, wiping furiously at his face. He has work to do.

He guts and cleans the fish, shoos Donkey away at least a hundred times, because if he gives her anything, she will happily drag raw fish around the whole house and it will stink until Wei Ying cleans the place three times. Maybe five.

Wei Ying can’t even imagine why his mouth blurted out come over for dinner right after he made a clown of himself and terrified Lan Zhan, who was trying to be helpful. Lan Zhan, who came to check on him first thing and got a faceful of Wei Ying’s bullshit and then some.

Lan Zhan knocks again.

"Come in!" Wei Ying shouts and schools his expression into that of we’re all fine here. Lan Zhan is holding the bottles of something in both hands. "You brought me treats?" Wei Ying grins, washing his hands and scrubbing them with lemon.

Lan Zhan toes off his boots. Wei Ying should get him some slippers. "Yes."

"Aw, you shouldn't have."

Lan Zhan puts the bottles on the dinner table and dodges the mint hanging off the ceiling beam. He's taller than Wei Ying. "It's nothing. How can I help?"

"Make the fire outside, I want to roast the fish."

Lan Zhan picks up the matches off the counter and Wei Ying doesn't even question if he knows how to start a full-on bonfire. If Lan Zhan fails, Wei Ying will stick everything in the oven and have a good meal anyway.

Wei Ying busies himself with rice and dressing for the fish in the meantime. Lan Zhan didn't even put his coat on, which Wei Ying shouldn't fixate on, but does. He shoos Donkey off once again and goes to check on the progress outside.

Lan Zhan's done a splendid job. Wei Ying whistles approvingly and tells him to throw several maple logs into the fire. Lan Zhan confuses maple with cherry and Wei Ying says nothing.

"How's the city?"

"Loud," Lan Zhan says immediately, and Wei Ying laughs sympathetically. "Didn't think I would get used to silence so quickly."

"Every time I go there, I spend, like, half a day in the forest once I come back. Don't know how I lived there before."

"Do you go there often?"

"Three or four times a year."

Lan Zhan hums, rubbing his palms together. "I will need your guidance regarding the seeds, trees, and overall gardening regime."

"You're going to stay?" Wei Ying says, and winces. Lan Zhan turns to him. He frowns, and because of the shadows cast by the fire, the frown looks deeper than it actually is. "How old are you, Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying asks before Lan Zhan says something like my stay is temporary.

"Thirty-three. Thirty-four in January."

Wei Ying nods. "I'm thirty-six. The best years, huh."

"Depends," Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying snickers despite himself.

"Get the chairs, I'll get the fish and stuff," Wei Ying says, and goes back to the house to do exactly that.

"Yes," Lan Zhan says suddenly, and Wei Ying tears his gaze off the crisping skin.

"What?"

"The answer to your question," Lan Zhan elaborates, "is yes, I'm planning to stay."

Wei Ying bounces the skewer in his palm, something small blooming right between his ribs. "Oh."

"I would like to learn how to fish, too."

Wei Ying ducks his head then, because the smile on his face is uncontrollably, stupidly big. "I don't trade corporate secrets."

Lan Zhan lights a cigarette from the fire and takes a long draw. "I do."

Of course.

Both Lan Zhan's hands are busy now, his movements of turning the fish over the fire with his left hand a bit clumsy. Wei Ying swallows hard. He hasn't talked with anyone about it, and there wasn't anyone to begin with. Not his family, obviously. None of his friends. He just fled.

"When we all got in the accident, jie suffered the most. I tried to get her out of the smashed car, but when I touched her stomach – " Wei Ying baulks for a second to take a breath. "She was bleeding heavily. A-Cheng yelled "don't touch her" and then "don't touch me" when I reached out to check the wound on his left side. I could get her out of the car, but he was too scared that I'd make it worse than it already was. He was right."

Lan Zhan ashed the cigarette. "I'm sorry."

"Her heart stopped twice on the operating table. Then she was in a coma for a couple of months. A-Cheng is fine, one scar. Me, a couple scratches. I left once she was brought home."

"Before my brother was kidnapped," Lan Zhan says, and takes out another cigarette, "we had a fight."

"I was driving," Wei Ying contributes. "Would you believe me if I told you that I don't even remember what A-Cheng and I were yelling at each other about when that car hit us?"

Lan Zhan nods. "Brother got married last summer. His best friend from high school. They think of adopting, moving house, and I – " Lan Zhan cuts himself off, staring at the fire, then bows his head like a limp puppet.

"Can't move on from his kidnapping," Wei Ying says, and Lan Zhan's shoulders sag lower. They drop their skewers almost simultaneously, and the fish sizzles violently in the fire. Wei Ying darts forward and kneels in front of him. Lan Zhan's whole body trembles almost imperceptibly, but Wei Ying doesn't need to look at his face. He is crying.

"Lan Zhan." Lan Zhan jolts slightly from the sound of his voice. Wei Ying's knees dig hard into the frozen soil, nails into his palm. "Lan Zhan, he is alive, he is fine, you made it through, both of you."

Wei Ying takes the cigarette from between Lan Zhan's fingers and throws it into the snow. He can do it. He has to do it.

He wants to.

Wei Ying inhales through the mouth and touches the back of Lan Zhan's hand.

"Wei Ying, you – can't," Lan Zhan chokes out, panicked, and tries to back away, because of course he understood. Both of their hands are cold despite the fire. Wei Ying takes Lan Zhan's other hand and puts it on his waist, and pushes himself forward in a silent offer and asylum. Lan Zhan's inhales so much cold air he coughs from it, and then buries his head in Wei Ying's neck, hard.

"It's okay," Wei Ying whispers, carding through Lan Zhan's hair. It's soft even in the cold and smells of smoke and a mild shampoo. "There are things we never move on from."

Wei Ying's own body is trying to register so much contact and fails, and he trembles in Lan Zhan's arms uncontrollably, teeth clattering from the adrenaline. Lan Zhan's hands press on the small of his back and between his shoulder blades, and Wei Ying doesn't cry, not now. It’s Lan Zhan’s turn.

Lan Zhan may be taller than him, but Wei Ying hasn't been chopping all the wood and carrying water and shovelling for years for nothing. He lifts Lan Zhan from the little chair and carries him inside the house that smells of burnt rice and fish insides Donkey’s already stole.

Wei Ying manages to grab a bottle of something Lan Zhan bought for him and drag them both upstairs, Lan Zhan clutching the back of his neck, grip vice-like and painful and so grounding it reverberates through Wei Ying’s entire body.

He doesn't turn the light on in his bedroom, just deposits Lan Zhan on the bed and opens the bottle. The sky is pink with snow anyway, that dense rosiness that hides the stars.

"No," Lan Zhan says, voice hoarse from crying. "I don't want to sleep. Wei Ying, I can't."

“It’s for adults,” Wei Ying says, and chugs the liquor down himself. It tastes like nothing and burns like hell.

He takes Lan Zhan's shoes off and his fishy-smelling sweater, and pulls the duvet over him. Wei Ying climbs onto the bed and wraps Lan Zhan in the duvet, then presses Lan Zhan flush against himself, face to chest, and holds him until both of them stop shivering.

"The fire," Lan Zhan says quietly.

Wei Ying’s consciousness swims, and he kisses the top of Lan Zhan’s head because he really wants to. "I'll deal with it later, don’t worry."

Lan Zhan squishes his face against Wei Ying’s chest, and Wei Ying feels how his breathing evens out at some point. Wei Ying buries his face in the corner of the duvet that separates him from Lan Zhan's neck and squeezes his eyes shut so hard he sees white dots.

Downstairs, he puts out the fire, then scoops dry snow and rubs it all over his face and the back of the neck. The fish is just two charcoal pieces among the wood. The saucepan with rice is black but intact, and Donkey is munching on something under the table with the most disgusting sound.

Lan Zhan's nightmares are not like Wei Ying's, where he wakes up from the screech of metal from the hit, from his brother's yelling, from his own screams. Lan Zhan makes the smallest, hurt noises.

Wei Ying reaches to strokes his cheekbone without so much as a flinch.

"Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, wake up."

Lan Zhan snaps his eyes open and clutches Wei Ying’s wrist with such a force Wei Ying feels the pain in the elbow.

"Good boy," Wei Ying placates with a meek smile. He doubts Lan Zhan can see it. "You're safe."

"It doesn't matter," Lan Zhan rasps.

"Of course it does," Wei Ying says. Lan Zhan exhales into his face and lets go of the wrists. Wei Ying keeps stroking his face carefully, how jie did it for him when he was little and couldn't sleep. Runs his forefinger between Lan Zhan's eyebrows. "Do you want to call your brother?"

"It's late."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

Lan Zhan shakes his head, but it’s not very resolute. "I will wake up his husband."

Wei Ying grins. "I'm sure he won't mind, either. Where's your phone?"

"In my coat."

"Okay," Wei Ying says, and slides his hands off Lan Zhan's sleep-warm face. Lan Zhan makes an indecipherable noise, and lifts his head a little, as if chasing the sensation, which – "Is your house open?"

"Wei Ying."

"I know."

Wei Ying tries to be quick and stuffs his feet in wrong boots, one his and one Lan Zhan's, both left, somehow, but he pays it zero attention and jogs to Lan Zhan's house, door unlocked. It's fortunate they don't have bears here.

Lan Zhan's coat is hung neatly by the door. Wei Ying pats it and takes the phone out, then rushes back, breathing out harshly in the cold night. The distance between their houses is not big, but he jogs anyway.

Lan Zhan is sitting on the bed, propped against the headboard.

"Okay," Wei Ying says, rubbing his arms, "two a.m. Not that bad."

"He goes to sleep at ten," Lan Zhan says, and unlocks the phone.

"A disaster for married life."

"I go to bed at nine."

Wei Ying cackles. "Okay, go on."

Lan Zhan takes a breath, then another one, finger hovering over the icon of his brother's number. Wei Ying distantly registers how similar they are. He also thinks he prefers Lan Zhan's unsmiling face.

Wei Ying presses Lan Zhan's finger to the screen. Lan Zhan shoots him a dirty look, but obediently raises the phone to his ear. Wei Ying waits until Lan Zhan breathes out, "Ge."

The pressure that collects behind Wei Ying’s eyes is a pitiful counterpart to Lan Zhan’s raw relief.

"Nothing," Lan Zhan says after a few seconds. "I am sorry I woke you up. I – " Wei Ying gets up to slip out of bed once again, but Lan Zhan grabs his wrist; the same one. "I wanted to hear you. That is all."

Wei Ying shakes his head to say, talk alone, I'll be downstairs. He can't hear what Lan Zhan's brother is saying, but Lan Zhan does let him go. Wei Ying slips out of the bedroom. No matter what Lan Zhan thinks, Wei Ying is not needed there.

He boils the water that Lan Zhan had brought in the morning and makes tea for both of them. At the back of the stuff cabinet, Wei Ying finds a chocolate bar that's still alright to eat, and waits for the herbs to steep a little. The whole thing takes him about fifteen minutes and a lower lip so harshly bitten it hurts when he brings the mug to his mouth to have a sip. Wei Ying goes upstairs, milk chocolate in the pocket of his sweats.

Lan Zhan is sitting on the edge of the bed like he was about to stand up.

"Better?" Wei Ying asks. The tea is still too hot to drink, so he puts the mugs on the bedside table. Lan Zhan nods, small. "Did your brother's husband tell you off for calling?"

"No," Lan Zhan says. He climbs back into bed. "They both were happy to hear me."

"Told you."

"You did."

"In the mood for some tea?"

"Wei Ying, forgive me."

Wei Ying props the small pillow under his back because Lan Zhan took the big one. "For what?"

"I touched you,” Lan Zhan says and his throat clicks. “So much."

Not that he initiated it, really. Wei Ying pats his knee. "When I have nightmares about it, don't you dare call my family. What else did they say?"

"Mingjue-ge asked me if I needed help with the house." Wei Ying hums questioningly. "I said I have you."

Wei Ying disgracefully inhales his own spit and croaks out, "Did you."

"Yes."

"Do you."

Lan Zhan touches his knuckles, daring. "Wei Ying has me, too."

Wei Ying feeds him the whole chocolate bar, which Lan Zhan deems acceptable in terms of stale, which ends up in a confession that he likes sweets and drove to the city and bought mostly chocolate and some homely bits.

"You don't strike me as a nesting person," Wei Ying confesses, half of the sentence swallowed by a yawn. "Your curtains are cute, by the way."

Lan Zhan drags his index finger over the rim of the empty mug. "I never had the time to be one."

"Oh," Wei Ying offers intelligently, scratching his chin. "Did you get a table cloth?"

He means it as a joke, but Lan Zhan says yes, and Wei Ying laughs at him.

Lan Zhan falls asleep almost mid-sentence, talking about the flowers he wants to plant in the spring. Wei Ying gently pries the mug from his hands and makes Lan Zhan shuffle down the bed. Wei Ying tucks him in and then climbs out of the bed. Again. It's too small for two people anyway, and Lan Zhan –

Wei Ying closes the door. Mornings are different. Mornings are hard to admit.

He lies on the sofa, limbs heavy and unruly. He is hungry and feels a little sick with it, even sicker within his own itching skin. He’s hugged a person today. Carried a crying man to his bed and didn't fall apart.

Wei Ying pulls his knees up to his chest and closes his eyes. The curse of misfortune has no expiration date like the chocolate bars do. He only hopes Lan Zhan deems him acceptable, too.

/

He wakes up to the smell of food, which in itself is unusual and almost alarming. He jolts slightly and groans, neck and wrist strained. Right, he slept on the sofa.

"Morning."

Wei Ying sits up, stretching his whole body, and a blanket slips off his side. He doesn't remember bringing it here he before dozed off.

"Morning." Lan Zhan is in the kitchen, but Wei Ying can't see him, and, if he is being very honest with both of them, is scared to. "Time?"

"Breakfast."

"That's relative."

Lan Zhan makes some spatula-flipping sounds. "You didn't sleep well."

Wei Ying rubs at his creased cheek and then the wrist he slept on. "That makes two of us."

"Wei Ying's bed was comfortable."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I did."

Wei Ying laughs, uncomfortable, and goes to wash his face.

He checks himself in the mirror, scowls. He looks a little pale, and it's hairwash day, which is not his cutest look. Not that he cared about it for years. Overall, he's only a little rumpled. Wei Ying shifts his weight from one leg to another, because the floors in the house are always draughty but he hates wearing slippers.

"What are we having?" he says, padding into the kitchen area, and stops right by the counter.

Lan Zhan is by the stove in a grey t-shirt, fit tight. The kettle stem is quiet yet, and the sizzling sound is also gentle when Lan Zhan works the spatula. Wei Ying allows himself a starved once-over before Lan Zhan turns to him.

"Scallion pancakes. I chopped some of the scallions from your windowsill."

Wei Ying grins and crosses his arms on his chest. "Be my guest. You are, I mean, but, you know."

Lan Zhan nods. Wei Ying is mesmerised by the cut of his jaw.

"I haven't woken up to someone cooking for me for twenty years. Maybe more."

"I am glad to break the record," Lan Zhan says, gesturing him to sit at the table. Wei Ying obeys, not offering help. If Lan Zhan thinks Wei Ying is nice, he is wrong. He is yet to realise what a disaster of a roommate Wei Ying can be.

"Smells nice," Wei Ying says, tapping fingers on the table. "Do you like tea or coffee?"

Lan Zhan's clothes are very creased. Wei Ying likes it.

"Both." Lan Zhan makes tea, black for both of them, shoos Donkey from the hot pan and scratches her neck while the tea steeps. "Sugar?"

Wei Ying shakes his head, which makes Lan Zhan look at him because Wei Ying makes no sound. Wei Ying makes chin hands at him. "No." Lan Zhan's gaze lingers on him and his hairwash day proof longer than the sugar issue requires. Wei Ying smiles wider. "What did you dream of?"

"I don't remember."

"That's good."

They eat, Wei Ying making many praising comments on the pancakes. They are delectable and the perfect degree of crispy. To Wei Ying, eating breakfast together is more binding than dinner. Breakfast is often the aftermath, and not many people can deal with it.

"Delicious," he says with his mouth full, adding more chilli oil to his stack, which makes Lan Zhan's face do complicated things.

"No talking during eating."

"But you are talking?"

"No."

Wei Ying finishes his portion faster than Lan Zhan, because Lan Zhan chews properly and measuredly. Wei Ying watches him, head on his folded arms.

"What do you want to do today?"

Lan Zhan watches him back and finishes his food before he speaks. "There is a lot of snow."

Wei Ying tsk's. Damn, he has curtains now, he can't see the outside from here. 

"And I would like to borrow some of your books if you don't mind."

"I have the laptop," Wei Ying says, the chair under him creaking, or maybe it's his knee. "I have a lot there."

Lan Zhan raises one brow. "You have a laptop?"

"Yeah," Wei Ying says. He can't sit still near Lan Zhan. "You thought I'm completely out of civilisation? I know what Netflix is. I even know what Netflix and chill is."

Lan Zhan's mouth twitches. "I see."

Lan Zhan insists on doing the dishes despite Wei Ying's vigorous protests and half-hearted wailing that splitting kitchen duties is fair, but Lan Zhan is a guest. But Lan Zhan gives him a withering look and says, “I took your bed last night,” and that's that. Wei Ying goes upstairs and sees that Lan Zhan even made the bed, which is never the case with Wei Ying. He looks out of the window. It's still snowing, but the main impact happened at night.

Wei Ying reluctantly changes into his outside winter gear.

"You go make your house warm, you haven't been there for two days," Wei Ying says. Lan Zhan even towels the cups dry, dammit. "Otherwise you'll fall ill and your brother will find us and end me for not taking care of you."

Lan Zhan shakes his head. "I’ve run out of firewood."

"Take mine. And take pinecones from the basket, they burn well."

Wei Ying takes his huge plastic shovel and goes outside. The pristine whiteness of the snow hurts his eyes a little, but at least it's not sunny and the snow is dry, which makes it easier to haul it. Wei Ying works slowly, starting from the front of his house up to Lan Zhan's, then digs out Lan Zhan's car, then the back yards and a little of the way to the stream. He breathes in the crisp and clean air, thinking about his first winter here, the holes he’d found in the walls that made his house cold, the wind that scared him sometimes. He knew that no one was coming, it's just the sound, but the fear of something huge and uncontrollable and vicious destroying his little hut didn't make his sleep better back then.

Back home, he finds his kitchen downright spotless and no sign of Donkey.

"Turncoat," Wei Ying sighs, and goes to sort out his hair.

It's past the length he prefers it, past his shoulder blades, but it's winter and it keeps his neck warm. It tangles like hell, but it does so at any length he's ever had, and Wei Ying is convinced his right bicep is bigger because of brushing his hair alone. The house feels weirdly quiet without Lan Zhan in it. It's ridiculous, they've only had breakfast once here, but still. Wei Ying tugs on one of the snarls more than he means when he thinks about offering Lan Zhan another dinner, proper this time, no burning the food, and curses.

He doesn't like winter because of the lack of work. Physical activity makes his mind busy more successfully than anything, than reading or actual jobs he once had. When you're out in the sun, you're concentrating on life – not yours, which requires all of your attention and devotion and patience. All the little and tender sprouts that have to be replanted, watered, supported. Wei Ying minds winter more now that he has Lan Zhan here. It would be easier if Lan Zhan hated and avoided him, but instead, he cooks in Wei Ying’s kitchen and gives Donkey scritches. Lan Zhan has a family to return to. He will. 

Wei Ying checks the herbs and chillies the didn't pollinate yesterday and fixes that, groaning all the way at himself for not wanting to ease his existence for once and just buy fresh. No, he wants to grow it. Yes, he will imitate a bee.

He loses track of time, finally, and relaxes enough to think of nothing but the bird’s eye chillies destroying his palate until he hears Lan Zhan knocking.

"Will you ever stop knocking?" Wei Ying shouts, and only then does Lan Zhan enter and swipes the snow off his shoulders.

"No."

"What is it."

"Do you have movies on your laptop?"

Wei Ying stops insulting the chilli flowers and turns to Lan Zhan, who finally took off his jeans in favour of sweats. Dark grey. His legs still look too long, ungodly so.

"Yeah? I mean, yes. Why?"

Lan Zhan looks almost anxious when he speaks next. "I enjoy movie nights."

Wei Ying's face from smiling. He kind of wants to slap himself to calm down. "That can be arranged, but you're in charge of snacks. And I choose what we watch."

"Deal," Lan Zhan says and vanishes before Wei Ying can say something like I'm joking. Oh shit, is he really – Lan Zhan wants a movie night? Here?

Wei Ying darts around, trying to be savage to be about it. His place looks like a dignified dog lair, which he rather enjoys. He knows he's a messy person, but here, it's never been a problem. If anything, it's Donkey who steals his socks and rips them into threads. Wei Ying recalls the austere look of Lan Zhan's houses and cringes at his own. Lan Zhan's place even smells posh, and Wei Ying's always smells like a weird mixture of herbs that don't always compliment each other, soil, cat, and whatever Wei Ying cooked the day before.

He meticulously wipes the dust off every surface that gets under his palm of ashamed cleaning. He even lifts the pots with herbs to clean the crumbs of soil, dirty and dried out puddles underneath them. Wei Ying feels like he is showing off his cleaning skills, and he sort of does. He thinks that the last time he cleaned his place so thoroughly was before he invited a girl he was madly in love with at uni over. She didn't pay attention to the fact that he even wiped the leaves of his rubber plant, which, well. They were busy.

It's just a movie night. He wants to say it's just Lan Zhan, but he can't. It's not. Wei Ying is doomed.

He changes the throw on the sofa, moves the table closer to it to accommodate the laptop, and checks the clock every ten minutes. They didn't agree on the time, but it doesn't matter. Lan Zhan will come whenever he's ready.

Lan Zhan knocks with his foot, Wei Ying guesses mid-scrubbing the kettle from oil drips and rushes to open the door. Lan Zhan has food in both hands and also sandwiched between his ribs and elbows.

Wei Ying immediately takes half from him. "Are you planning to watch five things in a row?" The aroma hits him like a freight train, and he almost moans.

Lan Zhan toes his unlaced boots off. There's snow on his calves. "Would that be a problem?"

"No," Wei Ying swears. "As many as you want." He can see at least three types of dumplings in the tupperware. He lifts his head from the food as Donkey jumps on the table, covered in snow and shaking it on the food. Wei Ying bats her away.

"Do you watch kids movies too?"

"Like?"

"I want to watch Wall-E." Lan Zhan looks up from where he's been assessing if he brought enough food to spend an entire winter on Wei Ying's sofa, apparently. Wei Ying doesn't understand what his face means. "You don't have to! It's silly, really."

Lan Zhan's expression flickers. "Wei Ying made an excellent choice."

Wei Ying rolls his eyes. "Stop mocking me, I'm too old for that."

"You are not."

"Shut up," Wei Ying grumbles. "I like it."

"That makes two of us."

Wei Ying takes out his mismatched plates and bowls and feels Lan Zhan come closer.

"Wei Ying."

"Mm?"

"We can do it at my house."

"Nah," Wei Ying protests. "Your house smells too nice. What is it, by the way?"

Lan Zhan reaches out to put the kettle on and sees that it has baking soda on it. He rinses it without any questions. "Sandalwood."

"You fancy boy," Wei Ying muses, caught up in sniffing around. "It's so good. So fresh, kind of comforting?"

Lan Zhan's shoulder brushes against Wei Ying's when Lan Zhan helps with pouring food into bowls, most definitely intentional. "It was my mother's favourite scent. My childhood home smelled like that."

Wei Ying knows when not to worm his way any further into the questioning and often does it nonetheless, but – he also knows not to be a dick when asking about parents better than anyone.

"My childhood home, the first one, smelled of coffee. The second, of river muck and expensive perfume."

Lan Zhan gives Donkey what smells like a pork dumpling, and Wei Ying hisses in protest.

"She's not gonna leave us now, Lan Zhan! Minus one dumpling for me."

"I will make more for you and for her."

"Uh huh."

Wei Ying grits his teeth and tries to calm his stupid buzzing mind. He knows he is behaving like a needy child with all the attention Lan Zhan is giving him. Wei Ying also knows that he can never keep people that are so kind to him.

Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, this hurt, kind man who came here for the same reason Wei Ying did, now has to endure Wei Ying's company just because Wei Ying asked him to. Because Wei Ying's always been greedy. He thought he didn't need humans like they don't need because he always leeches off their attention and goodwill, and wants to laugh at himself. Five years of determined seclusion go to nothing after gaining a single neighbour.

"Wei Ying?" Wei Ying wrenches his thought back to present, to his hand hovering over the laptop keyboard. To Lan Zhan's face. If Wei Ying has leant anything about his expressions in a span of weeks, it's Lan Zhan's confusion. "What's wrong?"

For the first time in years, Wei Ying plasters a smile on his face that he knows betrays nothing of what's going on in his head or heart. "Nothing. Just thinking about my sowing spreadsheet and if I added cauliflower to it."

Lan Zhan blinks slowly at him. "Okay."

They settle on either side of the sofa, Wei Ying sitting cross-legged and Lan Zhan allowing Donkey to sit on his lap even though she paws at his bowl non-stop.

"You're very patient," Wei Ying says off-handedly.

"A common misconception." Wei Ying snorts. "However, Wei Ying is patient," Lan Zhan continues, "to have grown such a garden."

"That's nothing," Wei Ying says. "I had to do it if I wanted to survive."

Lan Zhan inclines his head. "You did a lot, and you share with me. You had no one to share with you."

Wei Ying turns away because he can't do this. His stomach twists further, into knots of self-pity and that horror he placed himself into as punishment for God knows what. "That was my choice."

"And this is mine. If it weren't for you, I would've been cold tonight, yesterday, and many days before that."

"Stop it," Wei Ying hisses under his breath, and slams his finger on the laptop to start the movie.

Lan Zhan doesn't interrupt it and neither does Wei Ying, who can never sit through an episode of anything without pausing a million times and doing something else while at it. Lan Zhan quietly nudges food in his direction and Wei Ying grudgingly eats a lot of it. Despite everything, he relaxes bit by bit, watching the small robot made of scaps and collecting scraps. Alone on the planet, only with a cockroach to keep him company. And then not alone, and therefore not wanting to let go of it. Wei Ying relates to the thing more than he can admit to himself.

"You are very quiet," Lan Zhan says while Wei Ying battles the desire to cork off, full of food and under the thick throw.

"Does it trouble you?"

Lan Zhan does something to Donkey and she goes to terrorise Wei Ying's plait. "Yes."

"I thought you needed silence."

Wei Ying swears Lan Zhan lets out a tiny sigh.

"You should meet all my ex-boyfriends." Wei Ying raises his head from his elbow, dumbfounded. Lan Zhan looks at the screen with yelling humans. "They all said this very thing."

"And?"

"They all thought. They never asked."

Wei Ying lays his head back down. "You had shitty boyfriends."

"Mn."

"I'm not bullying your ex-partners."

"You can."

"Then you roast mine."

"Wei Ying's partners have been lucky to have him," Lan Zhan, serene and so full of shit. Wei Ying likes him so much.

He jabs Lan Zhan’s thigh with his foot. "That's not roasting."

"But it is truth."

"Then your boyfriends were lucky, too."

"They would disagree," Lan Zhan says and grabs his ankle, tugging on it to make Wei Ying stretch his legs over his lap. Wei Ying's insides twist into a knot and the dinner rises up to his throat in a surge of panic and disgustingly sincere flicker of arousal. So much for giving each other space to heal.

"You're a fucking menace," Wei Ying utters.

"With this, they would agree."

Lan Zhan makes him lie horribly comfortably and Wei Ying tries not to think about it more than the pit of his stomach does. It's been ages since someone let him do this, and not vice versa. Lan Zhan just rests his hands over his ankles, nothing else, but Wei Ying feels like combusting and taking the house down along with him.

"One of my boyfriends wanted to boss me around," Wei Ying says to fuel things up, which is his natural response to disasters.

"Did he."

"Yeah," Wei Ying wriggles his feet. Lan Zhan's thighs are so warm it's not helping whatsoever. In the background, the little robot is being obliterated. "Mostly about the household things, but other things, too. It took me a good while to realise that he just was a jerk and not, you know."

Lan Zhan puts his humongous hand on Wei Ying's feet to cease the frantic jostling, but Wei Ying doesn't yield. "Yes."

"And," Wei Ying says, "he dumped me. Well, everyone I dated dumped me. Makes things easier to sort out."

"Mn?"

"No more clearing the air."

Lan Zhan squeezes his toes and Wei Ying relents instantly, grateful and beyond suffocated with need. This is so very wrong.

He lifts his feet off of Lan Zhan's legs, and Lan Zhan actually glares at him. Wei Ying can’t tell him that he’s getting hard and embarrassing from the lightest touch. From Lan Zhan’s touch. "Ah, sorry, I'm a terrible person to have movie nights with. I, uh, move a lot."

Lan Zhan lets him escape, but barely, just physically, because he pauses the movie.

"Wei Ying."

"Lan Zhan."

"Ask me."

For one long, mind-deteriorating moment, Wei Ying thinks Lan Zhan is going to kiss him. His chest rattles. "You just can't say that."

"I already did."

"Lan Zhan, please."

Lan Zhan is already moving his hand up Wei Ying’s calf and stops at the knee. There’s no misunderstanding in what is happening, where everything is going. "I know."

"I always want a lot, Lan Zhan, you don't even know what you are saying," Wei Ying begs. He wants to crawl out of this house, away from being told to ask for something he can't have. But Lan Zhan has no mercy and yanks him into his lap. Wei Ying mewls, and gives up.

"Ask," Lan Zhan says again, hands on Wei Ying's waist. Wei Ying could howl from how dark Lan Zhan's eyes are, intent and on him, only on him.

"Stay," Wei Ying whispers, and drops his head on Lan Zhan's shoulder.

"Where."

"With me."

"Yes," Lan Zhan says, and the relief in his voice is so thick and honest it breaks Wei Ying’s heart.

Lan Zhan picks him up by the back of the thighs and carries him upstairs, pressing Wei Ying into the mattress with all his weight.

“Are we going to Netflix and chill?”

Lan Zhan nuzzles into his neck and draws a long inhale. “No, I’m going to fuck you.”

“Isn’t it the same thing?” Wei Ying wheezes. 

Lan Zhan reaches down and grinds the heel of his palm along the vee line of Wei Ying’s groin. Wei Ying does his utmost to fold in half. “No.”

/

His breaths come out shallow, head spinning just enough to be thankful for already lying in bed.

Wei Ying traces mindless patterns on Lan Zhan's palm. The room is bright. It's late, and Donkey has been scratching at the bedroom door for a while. Lan Zhan is touching him all over – his chest is pressed against Wei Ying's back, a little sweaty under the heavy duvet. It's fine for Wei Ying, but Lan Zhan is too hot under it. Still, he is here: one arm under Wei Ying's neck, an easel for Wei Ying's fingers; his left hand is between Wei Ying's thighs, also too warm. Lan Zhan's exhales are tickling the back of his neck.

Lan Zhan curls his fingers on both hands.

"It's fine," Wei Ying says.

Lan Zhan kisses his shoulder, too kind.  "What do you want to do today?"

"Nothing. This."

"Allow me to feed the three of us, and then we can continue."

"Cruel."

"Body-oriented, I was told by one of my ex-partners."

Wei Ying traces the characters of his own name on Lan Zhan's palm, still big despite his curled fingers. "Considerate."

Lan Zhan huffs, which makes Wei Ying skin crawl from goosebumps. "In a way."

"In every way," Wei Ying protests. "You didn't listen to me when I begged you to stop."

"You didn't want me to."

"Exactly."

Lan Zhan strokes his hair, pressure all over his head, neck, shoulders. "Wei Ying needs to eat."

"Carry me, then."

Lan Zhan does. The draught is biting, so Lan Zhan walks back upstairs and retrieves socks, then puts them on Wei Ying while he sits at the table and pokes Lan Zhan's chest with his foot. Lan Zhan squeezes his ankle and Wei Ying chockes on the cold lamb skewer. Lan Zhan makes breakfast and Wei Ying lets Donkey steal the pork dumplings, because why not. And also because Wei Ying is truly, exquisitely, and distractingly fucked-out to care about it.

Lan Zhan barely looks at his food, eyes on Wei Ying.

"Is there something on my face?" Wei Ying asks. He swipes a hand over it; there are only a few crumbs.

Lan Zhan sips at his coffee. Black, bitter. Wei Ying scrunches up his nose. "No. Just watching you."

"You've seen enough of me."

"Mm." Their ankles touch under the table. Wei Ying's, socked. Lan Zhan's, bare.

"You'll get bored looking," Wei Ying says. "The novelty will wear off."

Lan Zhan tilts his head. His hair is a mess. "Do you get bored watching the fire?”

"No."

“Me?”

Wei Ying jabs his ankle with his toes.

They take a shower together, and Lan Zhan washes his hair, even though Wei Ying washed it yesterday. Wei Ying asks, and Lan Zhan does. He doesn't say anything when Wei Ying lets water run over his face for too long, just keeps holding his hair and one shoulder. Lan Zhan lets him laugh at stuff like dust he didn't clean in the bedroom since the windows were open in October, like the odd owl plushie Wei Ying sometimes sleeps with. Lets Wei Ying crawl into bed and cry into his chest, his shoulder, hands gentle and heavy.

They switch houses on odd days to keep Lan Zhan's warm, because Wei Ying insists on it and because Lan Zhan’s bed is a little bigger, and Wei Ying's foot doesn't dangle off its edge. Lan Zhan disassembles his bed and sneaks it into Wei Ying’s house while Wei Ying chops the wood. Lan Zhan looks very pleased with himself.

Lan Zhan knits when they have movie nights, and Wei Ying coils the wool that Donkey unspools back around the thick roll.

"I want to knit a sweater for you," Lan Zhan announces while they watch Coco, "but I don't have a measuring tape."

"Go into town."

"Would you like to go with me?"

Wei Ying oh's.

Lan Zhan puts his rectangular something down. It's baby-blue and looks like a scarf. "Wei Ying."

"No, no, it's alright," Wei Ying waves both hands. "You can go. I, um. Me too. I go there three times a year."

"By car."

"I don't drive, but yeah."

"I will drive."

Wei Ying laughs like his mouth is full of stinging seawater. "Do I have to wear jeans?"

"No."

"Then I'll go."

The pep talk Wei Ying gives himself over the next days is a chant of “it’s for Lan Zhan,” “Lan Zhan will not be angry if I say no,” “I will say no.”

Lan Zhan brushes his hair, which makes Wei Ying so sleepy he starts yawning again. It's ten in the morning. They are going into town.

"Have you considered therapy?" Lan Zhan asks quietly.

Wei Ying makes a big gesture with his hand. "What do you think this is."

"Exile."

"Shut up."

Lan Zhan keeps brushing out the little tangles that appear seemingly in the process of brushing. "You're in jeans."

"I said shut up."

Lan Zhan drives one-handed, touching Wei Ying with his right hand, but Wei Ying gets too jittery and places the hand on the steering wheel and looks out of the window. The snow is getting greyer and muddier as they drive further from their homes. Home. Wei Ying leans his forehead against the window and watches the dirty streets and bright signs, moody people. Piles of snow and garbage instead of trees. In the city, Lan Zhan does let go of the wheel and touches his thigh again. The traffic is low, so Wei Ying doesn't protest. But he wants to go home.

They buy food, or Lan Zhan does, because he won't let Wei Ying pay for anything. They get the measuring tape and fresh chillies, mostly meat and eggs and sour snacks that Lan Zhan looks at with such a longing gaze Wei Ying bursts out laughing and scoops at least twenty packs of.

The next stop is a fancy building that emanates an eerily aura of proper romance.

"Is this a date?" Wei Ying says, eyes narrow.

"Yes," Lan Zhan says, highly undiplomatic, and ushers him into a little restaurant. Wei Ying pokes him between the ribs and argues that he's ancient for that. "I was wondering why there is sand in your bed," Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying wheezes.

“It's from the garden!"

"Is it."

Wei Ying blows him a raspberry in front of the host.

Lan Zhan orders and Lan Zhan pays, because he is that nice of a bastard.

"Next time I pay," Wei Ying warns, only half terrified of his promise. 

"I want to buy Donkey a toy," Wei Ying says back in the car. His jeans are no longer loose on his waist, which makes Lan Zhan visibly satisfied. "So that when you play with me, she won't yowl under the door."

"I don't play with you."

"You do, sweetheart," Wei Ying pats his arm. Lan Zhan looks at the traffic lights, ears just as red.

"In moderation."

"Sure."

"There is a pet shop over there."

Wei Ying hums, spotting the thing. "And catnip. She deserves it."

"Does Wei Ying want any toys?"

"How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?"

In the pet shop, Lan Zhan disappears out of view as soon as they come inside and is nowhere to be seen as Wei Ying squeezes the toys. Wei Ying thinks he saw some funny fish and went to look at them.

He buys toys, catnip, and almost buys a pretty collar in case Donkey gets lost, but then reconsiders it. She’s lived without one her whole life. If she wants to walk away eventually, she will, collar or not.

Wei Ying coos quietly when he finds Lan Zhan near the bunny hutches, because Lan Zhan looks like he's three and all he wants is to pet a fluffball.

"What do we have here, mm?"

Lan Zhan looks at him, expression vulnerably soft. Wei Ying wants to kiss him in front of the bunnies.

"Bunnies," Lan Zhan states.

"I see that. Do you want them?"

Lan Zhan nods, then shakes his head. "Later."

"Why?"

"Donkey will eat them."

"Not if you'll make her dumplings."

Lan Zhan makes an adorable thinking sound, and Wei Ying kisses him right there, heedless of other people sneaking around and choosing a pet for their kids to torment.

"In the spring," Lan Zhan whispers into his mouth.

"We have a child to feed, let's go home," Wei Ying whispers back, and Lan Zhan bites his lower lip so hard Wei Ying yelps, startling the rabbits.

"Small children will not be left unattended at home," Lan Zhan says, and walks out of the pet store.

Wei Ying feels his face grow uncomfortably hot and touches his cheek. His warm palm is cool compared to it, and Wei Ying curses under his breath. He feels shy, for God's sake.

"I need to go to a pharmacy to get some first aid supplies," Lan Zhan says.

"I forgot the bird seeds," Wei Ying beams at him, seeing through Lan Zhan’s adorably crude lies. "You go there and I'll go back."

"You go first. I will wait here."

"Nononono, we'll both go. Take the keys."

The look on Lan Zhan's face when he comes back to the car with lube and Wei Ying is holding two rabbits in a little box is worth every single day Wei Ying has spent alone in a dilapidated house on the edge of the world and his sanity.

"Wei Ying."

"First aid supplies."

They go home.

Lan Zhan is sat on the floor, both bunnies in his lap, docile and huddled together. Lan Zhan strokes both of them, slow and so affectionate Wei Ying is almost jealous.

Wei Ying is holding a catnip-high Donkey, who pays zero attention to the bunnies. "They are not food," he instructs, pointing at the bunnies. They are both spotty, both smaller than Wei Ying's hand. He wants to hold them forever. "They are friends, and if you're nice to them, they will be your family. If you're good, the family will grow."

Lan Zhan looks up from their newest fur neighbours, and Wei Ying flashes him a please don't take that personally smile. Lan Zhan says nothing, but his eyes do that complicated and heart-wrenching thing when he almost smiles, so Wei Ying blushes again and clears his throat. "Stop that."

"Wei Ying's upbringing methods are wise."

"Lan Zhan, she's a cat."

"She is smart," Lan Zhan counters, and brings one of the bunnies to Donkey.

She gives it a lazy sniff and paws at it lightly, which gives Wei Ying a mild heart attack. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, but Lan Zhan keeps his hands cupped over the bunny, protective and patient. He holds Wei Ying like that, too.

They make a decent home for the bunnies in a cage Wei Ying's had in the shed. It's not ideal, but it's big and Donkey can't get them there.

"We'll have to get you a rocking chair," Wei Ying says while Lan Zhan wraps the measuring tape around his waist.

"You need to eat more."

"I eat enough."

"Hm," Lan Zhan answers, and moves up to his neck, fingers brushing over the skin there.

"Loose or tight?"

"Whichever Wei Ying wants."

"I want both."

Lan Zhan nips at his ear slightly. Wei Ying snakes his hand around and pinches his waist, and Lan Zhan bites him again. "Then I will knit both."

Wei Ying cooks dinner this time because Lan Zhan can’t stop watching the rabbits and won’t admit that he wants a horde of them. Wei Ying sits down beside him with a tired dad sound and throws a blanket over their shoulders to protect their backs. They need to move the cage somewhere not that draughty.

"Thank you," Lan Zhan says quietly, almost a rumble. "For them."

Wei Ying stuffs his mouth with dinner before he speaks, too scared to feel anything but the heat in his mouth. "You're not going anywhere, so. I'm not single-parenting them."

Lan Zhan lifts his hand and cups Wei Ying's cheek bulging with food. Wei Ying stops chewing, suddenly too horrified to hear what Lan Zhan has to say about his stupid lonely outburst.

"No," Lan Zhan says, stroking the cheekbone with his thumb. "You are not."

/

Wei Ying kisses him.

Slumped on Lan Zhan's lap, with Lan Zhan occupying the rocking chair per Wei Ying's insistent reminders that he can use it as and when he pleases, he kisses Lan Zhan – deep, filthy, terrified. Lan Zhan's hands span over his whole back, covering the sliver of skin between his rucked up sweater that Lan Zhan knitted and the waistband of his sweats. The air around them is puffs of shared warmth that Wei Ying swallows greedily and Lan Zhan gives willingly, constantly. Wei Ying keeps making obscene noises and Lan Zhan makes a reprimanding one once he realises Wei Ying is barefoot in the snow.

Wei Ying sucks the air out of him to make Lan Zhan's head spin and stop the train of thoughts that are anything but Wei Ying's tongue in his mouth. Lan Zhan tastes different every time Wei Ying kisses him. Bitter from coffee, stinging from cigarettes, sweet from the apples or toothpaste. Tastes of mornings after nightmares, after-dinner tea, of himself when Wei Ying kisses him by the water spring. Lan Zhan doesn't begrudge him anything, not once, and Wei Ying almost screams at him for that.

Every time Lan Zhan scrapes his teeth over his neck, lips, collarbone, anywhere lower, Wei Ying wants him to swear that he will never leave and never stop. Wei Ying doesn't, because Lan Zhan strokes his back and kisses his hair, patient and forgiving. So understanding it makes Wei Ying wake up from new nightmares now, where he wakes up alone in his bed. In his house. His wretched life that has found an anchor. Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me, Wei Ying begs with his kisses, and Lan Zhan kisses him back and pulls him closer. Lan Zhan is always in his periphery, almost always touching, soothing, healing. Wei Ying cries and begs, and Lan Zhan never leaves.

Lan Zhan's birthday is an attempt at joint fishing, both of them sitting on the stump – Lan Zhan on the wood and Wei Ying on Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan kisses him behind the ear and holds the rod and Wei Ying still.

They break the ice and catch enough for dinner, hands and noses blisteringly red. Everything gets roasted over the fire with potatoes and mushrooms and chillies for Wei Ying, successfully this time. Donkey gets a whole fish because Lan Zhan insists on it because she doesn't bother the fluffballs.

"Have you come up with the names for them?"

Lan Zhan’s expression is obnoxiously serene when he says, "Porcupine and Caterpillar." Wei Ying’s cackle is so loud it scares the squirrels on the nearby trees. "Donkey," Lan Zhan reminds, and Wei Ying laughs until his temples start to hurt.

Lan Zhan pours him wine at the table, tea for himself. As a present, Wei Ying kisses him more.

Days pass as weeks melt away with the snow, winter slackening its hold. Lan Zhan's hair grows longer and Wei Ying says nothing about the grey becoming more prominent.

"I dyed it for brother," Lan Zhan says once. Wei Ying combs it for him and offers a horrible home-cut, but Lan Zhan flees to feed the rabbits and asks Wei Ying to check his sowing spreadsheet, and reminds him to add the cauliflower to it. Again.

"You can cut mine," Wei Ying offers peacefully. "It's too long anyway."

"I like it," Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying lets it grow out even more.

It's March and it's muddy. Lan Zhan is washing Donkey's paws in the kitchen sink when Wei Ying is checking the creaking hinges of the front door and hears a car. He whips around, startled.

"Lan Zhan, is your brother coming and you didn't tell me?"

Lan Zhan lets go of Donkey, and she breezes past Wei Ying and back into the mud, where she’d spotted some greens in the soil. Lan Zhan is at his side in seconds, frown so deep it alarms Wei Ying more than the fast-approaching car.

"No."

"No?"

"Brother is not coming."

Wei Ying worries his lips. "New neighbours?"

"Perhaps."

Lan Zhan circles his waist digs his fingers in just so. Wei Ying recalls his adventurous spying on Lan Zhan's arrival and almost laughs until the car stops near Lan Zhan's house and the driver emerges. Wei Ying's knees buckle, and if not for Lan Zhan, he would've fallen heavily.

"Not your brother," Wei Ying forces out as Jiang Cheng strides past the shabby fence and is about to knock on Lan Zhan's door, but he turns his head and sees them. His eyes widen.

"You!"

It's a yell. Wei Ying hasn't heard it for so many months but in so many nightmares he feels sick instantly. Lan Zhan's grip disappears, but only because he steps forward and shields Wei Ying with his body.

"Wei Ying!" Jiang Cheng screeches, "You fucker! Come here!"

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying calls. He can't hear himself in the roaring heartbeat in his ears and throat. "It's fine."

Lan Zhan doesn't budge.

Jiang Cheng runs around the fence, possibly swears as his boots sink into the wet soil.

"Lan Zhan, please."

"He hurt you," is the only thing Lan Zhan manages to say before Jiang Cheng leaps onto the porch and grabs a fistful of Wei Ying's shirt over Lan Zhan's shoulder. Lan Zhan swats his hand away easily and violently, making Jiang Cheng redder in the face; Wei Ying, white. Wei Ying steps around him, squeezing Lan Zhan’s wrist once, and Jiang Cheng seizes his shirt once again with both hands. He looks so much older and almost angrier than Wei Ying has ever seen him.

"Five fucking years!" Jiang Cheng roars, shaking him, "Five! We thought you were dead!"

"You are touching me," Wei Ying shudders. 

Jiang Cheng's expression changes in severity and shades of crimson. He lets go of Wei Ying, fists still up, but then pushes him hard against the doorframe with his forearm. Lan Zhan lunges forward and drags Jiang Cheng from him like an aggressive dog. Jiang Cheng looks over his shoulder, feral, and slaps Lan Zhan's hands away, then turns back to Wei Ying and pushes him against the wood with both palms.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up and listen to me for once in your life!"

"Stop touching me."

Jiang Cheng squeezes his eyes shut and exhales harshly through his gritted teeth. "No."

"You said -"

"I know what I fucking said, and I told you to shut up!" Jiang Cheng howls. "And you just disappeared!"

Wei Ying tries to breathe through the nauseating joy of seeing his brother here, on the threshold of his little house, where he has been doing exactly what Jiang Cheng had told him to do. His tongue feels too thick to form long sentences. "You told me to get out."

"That's not what I meant!" Jiang Cheng bellows, voice breaking at the end like he's about to cry. Wei Ying has seen him cry three times in thirty years. All because of him. "since when do you follow anyone's orders?!"

"Jiang Cheng."

Jiang Cheng sucks in a ragged breath and exhales as if punched in the gut. "You are coming home with me. Now."

Wei Ying stares at him. "I am not going anywhere."

Jiang Cheng laughs, cruel. "Got new family now?"

"Yes," Lan Zhan says, and Jiang Cheng whirls around.

"I wasn’t asking you.”

Wei Ying shoulders him away from Lan Zhan, who looks like he is about to wring Jiang Cheng's neck.

"This is my Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, this is my brother, Jiang Cheng." Wei Ying sees how hard Jiang Cheng trembles from the contained fury and prolonged hurt. Wei Ying can do nothing about it, now – can't offer an explanation or himself to vent at, or his body to be wounded instead of their sister's. He tried.

"Jiang Cheng."

"What."

"Come inside."

"I will drive you home," Jiang Cheng grits out, "and we will – we will talk."

Lan Zhan doesn't loom over him, but barely. "This is our home. If you want to talk, talk here."

"Why are you commanding him?" Jiang Cheng jabs Lan Zhan's shoulder with his index finger. "Who do you think you are?!"

Lan Zhan doesn’t break the finger, somehow. "I am his Lan Zhan. And you are his brother. Stop yelling, you are scaring the rabbits."

The sound that leaves Jiang Cheng's mouth makes Wei Ying's jaw ache.

"I will come back," Jiang Cheng says. "And I will take him home."

He pushes Lan Zhan away with his shoulder and strides back to his car. The sound of the slamming car door rings in Wei Ying's ears until he finds himself slumped against the doorframe and can no longer see Lan Zhan's face, blurred and hovering in front of him. Lan Zhan is saying something, but Wei Ying only feels his hands on his face.

He throws up. He can't see if any of it got on Lan Zhan because he’s turned his face away at the last moment, but he can't be sure. His stomach keeps spasming, then his whole body does. Wei Ying coughs until he’s sweaty and limp.

He is in the bathtub, shaking from how cold he feels in the hot water and Lan Zhan behind him.

He is in bed, in clothes that are not sticking to his back as Lan Zhan keeps stroking his hair and kissing the crown of his head.

"He told me I only bring misfortune."

Lan Zhan's hand doesn't falter. "He is wrong."

"My parents are dead. My stepparents are dead. Our sister almost died."

"Wei Ying."

"Your brother could’ve died."

"It has nothing to do with you."

"Bad luck is contagious. Got to you before you met me."

Lan Zhan's hand tightens on his waist, and it hurts. Wei Ying wants to thank him. "The only thing Wei Ying has ever brought into my life is himself. I am lucky beyond salvation."

Lan Zhan kisses him, or tries to, because Wei Ying keeps crying and they both swallow his tears. Wei Ying dips in and out of erratic slumber for the most part of the day, Lan Zhan holding him through it and further, when Wei Ying can no longer stay in bed and stumbles downstairs. It's dark out. Lan Zhan makes him drink warm water and nothing else, and doesn't eat himself.

Lan Zhan makes him sit by the fire and places both Porcupine and Caterpillar into his hands, and Wei Ying tries not to bawl. He wants to laugh at the choice of names again, but his stomach hurts so much he skips every other breath. The bunnies nuzzle against his thighs and palms, tiny and unaware of anything but the kale leaves Lan Zhan lays onto one of his knees.

"Where's Donkey?"

"Upstairs, sleeping on your pillow."

Wei Ying smiles, mouth hurting, and feeds kale to the fluffballs.

"I will not let him inside," Lan Zhan says into his sweat-damp neck much, much later. "Will not let him touch you."

"If you don't let him inside, he will scream both houses down."

"There are plenty of vacant ones in the area."

Wei Ying laughs, then sobs. "You'll be there."

"Yes."

Wei Ying wakes up earlier than Lan Zhan, for once, blinking away the remnants of the patchy dream. Not a nightmare, oddly. He slips downstairs, the fire dim but warmth still oozing, comforting and quiet. Like Lan Zhan.

He makes breakfast, Donkey sleepy and cuddly on the counter. Wei Ying scratches her tummy while the kettle boils, and Donkey wraps her paws over his wrist, keeping his hand in place. Wei Ying huffs, stroking her head with his left.

"There might be a disaster soon. In case something happens, Lan Zhan will take care of you." He doesn't expect a bloodbath, but – this is Jiang Cheng. Wei Ying doesn't know what he wants, doesn't know how his place was found.

"Morning."

Wei Ying whips around, hand still caged by the needy cat. Lan Zhan is leaning on the doorframe, soft, his.

"Morning. I love you."

Lan Zhan's brows shoot upwards – the only sign of his devastating emotional whiplash – and Wei Ying laughs.

"I love you," he repeats. Wei Ying feels silly and sparkly with it, he wants to say only this for the rest of his life, apart from Lan Zhan's name. Lan Zhan moves, and then his hands are on Wei Ying's cheeks, eyes searching. The lighting in their kitchen is very forgiving, as the whole kitchen is, but Wei Ying knows he sees what Wei Ying's mouth cannot form yet.

"I love you," Lan Zhan says. He sounds young all of a sudden. Wei Ying releases his hands from Donkey's clawless grasp with some effort and cradles Lan Zhan's face, too.

"You said beyond salvation."

"I did."

"Will you kiss me about it?"

The kettle screams, and Donkey yowls, bereft and hungry, while Lan Zhan makes his lungs burn from the lack of air.

Wei Ying hears the car approaching two days later through Lan Zhan's singing. Lan Zhan, however, reacts first, abandoning a set of sweaters for the bunnies he's been knitting, and moves to the door.

“Don't," Wei Ying asks. Lan Zhan nods briskly.

Wei Ying opens the front door and sees a car – not Jiang Cheng's, but bigger. Three doors open simultaneously.

"Oh no," Wei Ying mumbles before his vision blurs at the sight of his sister, looking directly at him and smiling. He feels like he is eight again, and his sister, taller than him and kinder than the sun in September, holds him until he stops crying and begging not to send him back to the orphanage.

Wei Ying runs, and she catches him. He’s forced himself to forget how small and strong she is, how she carried both him and Jiang Cheng at the same time when they were little. How she once dragged Jin Zixuan out of the house by the collar for spewing some shit about Wei Ying and Jin Zixuan had asked her to go on a date with him the next morning.

Wei Ying sobs into Jiang Yanli’s shoulder and she strokes his back with shaky hands, always forgiving, always accepting him back. Wei Ying knows that the other, quieter sniffle pressed into his shoulder is Jiang Cheng's. Jiang Cheng's tears are always angry and unwanted, like he believes he is himself. Wei Ying reaches for him and hauls him into the embrace.

“You’re so stupid,” Jiang Cheng snivels, “we thought – jie never – idiot.”

"A-li, you've been standing for too long."

Wei Ying lets himself take two shallow breaths before he raises his head off of Jiang Yanli's shoulder and sees Jin Zixuan, who is holding a baby. Wei Ying makes a stupid sound about it, because this baby is – this is –

"A-Ying," Jiang Yanli says, wiping his cheeks instead of her own. "Will you hold your nephew, please?"

Jiang Cheng punches him in the arm. "You missed everything!"

Wei Ying looks at the baby, who looks back at him. The baby – his nephew, a boy, a tiny boy, whole birth and at least a year of life Wei Ying's missed – looks like his sister, his brother, and that asshole Jin Zixuan.

"Hi," jin Zixuan says, "thank you for being alive."

"Same to you," Wei Ying hiccups, and for the first time since he's known the bastard, he means it. "Give me my nephew."

The boy is frowning and looks like he’s done with all of them, which Wei Ying still finds devastatingly adorable. He wipes his and the boy's face from snot with his sleeve.

"What's your name?"

"A-Ling," all the adults say. Wei Ying turns around, because Lan Zhan says the name too. Lan Zhan is frowning.

"Lan Zhan?"

"Zixuan helped bring brother back," Lan Zhan says, "and is now helping him reinstate our family company after what his father did to us and to brother."

"Oh my god," Wei Ying groans as his nose keeps leaking from the cold and intense sobbing. "Don't tell me this asshole saved everyone."

"He helped us find you," Jiang Cheng grumbles. "Though it was Huan-ge who mentioned you as Lan Zhan's neighbour."

A-Ling lets out a high-pitched distressed whine, and everyone reaches out to calm him down. Jin Zixuan lets him take A-Ling who looks like a starfish in a snowsuit. Wei Ying hoists him on his hip and flicks the boy's reddening nose.

"Hi, baby." A-Ling gurgles in response, an angry sound. "A-Cheng, he sounds like you."

Jiang Cheng huffs proudly. "He's my nephew."

"A-li, you need to sit down."

Wei Ying looks at the boy and smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. "I'm your da-jiu, Ling-er. Hey, what's that face for? Aren't you happy to see me? Do you want to play with me, bunnies, and a half-bald cat? Do you want Lan Zhan to hold you?"

A-Ling's expression clears instantly, his eyes go big, and he laughs. Wei Ying coos triumphally.

"I made him laugh! Lan Zhan, I made him laugh! Here, he wants you."

"That's just not fair, he's known you for like one minute."

"A-Cheng."

"Wei Ying, you don't have a coat on."

"A-li, please, you have to sit down."

The house proves to be too small the instant everyone step inside and take their shoes off.

"Uh," Wei Ying offers, profoundly embarrassed. This is nothing like their family home or his own old apartment. "Welcome to our humble abode, I guess?"

With Lan Zhan living here, it's tidier than it's ever been, but still, it's not – it's not much. Except for Lan Zhan, everyone looks around like they're in a natural history museum, which, fair.

"A-Ying, it's lovely," Jiang Yanli says. Wei Ying knows her smile is genuine as she beelines straight for the kitchen. "So many herbs and pots!"

"Yeah, that's – "

"Self-sufficiency," Lan Zhan concludes for him. Wei Ying shoots him a look and Lan Zhan shoots an unimpressed one back.

"What do you mean, self-sufficiency," Jiang Cheng asks, taking A-Ling from him and divesting the boy of the snowsuit with practised ease. "To what degree?"

"Self-destructive, I believe," Jin Zixuan says, dodging the herbs and baskets hanging off the beams. It’s not like he would hit them, anyway.

"Shut up, peacock."

"Am I wrong?"

"Lan Zhan, you tell him!"

"A-Ying, do you fish, too?"

Wei Ying beams, distracted, and hops to the kitchen, where Jiang Yanli is looking around with keen interest and running her palms over the counter. Then she spots the herbs and the chillies and gets distracted herself.

The rest of the day is pure, blessed mayhem. Wei Ying tries to pay attention to everything and can't, feeling like a doll being passed from one set of hands to another, touching and checking him. Jie says that he’s too skinny, to which he shows off his arms and earns an eyeroll from both Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan and red ears on Lan Zhan’s part. When Jiang Cheng hears the names of their pets while Wei Ying sits on the floor with A-Ling and the bunnies, he rolls his eyes so hard Wei Ying thinks they’ll stay like that forever.

He’s missed them so much.

"I'm sorry," Jiang Cheng says very quietly as Wei Ying cuddles A-Ling by the fire. "I was an idiot."

A-Ling's hand on Porcupine stills and he looks up, inquisitive. Wei Ying nods him to continue.

"A-Cheng."

"Shut up, just listen." Jiang Cheng takes a breath. "It wasn't your fault."

Wei Ying says nothing for a while, and neither does Jiang Cheng, both knowing that words have never worked for them. Wei Ying pets A-Ling's soft hair like A-Ling strokes the bunny's fur.

"It wasn't yours, either."

Wei Ying hears the quiet murmurs between Lan Zhan and a-jie as they fuss over food, although no one is hungry. Wei Ying half expects half dreads it to be a shovel talk. He is nearing forty. A shovel talk sounds scarier than his sore joints.

A-jie keeps touching him whenever she can, and Wei Ying bows his head whenever he notices her slight limp and how she’s learnt to do everything with her left hand. She cradles his face and traces the faint wrinkles around his eyes. Her own make her look so much more like Yu-furen.

"You are well," Jiang Yanli says. Wei Ying kisses her soft palms. He is.

Throughout the day, Lan Zhan doesn't talk to him, but Wei Ying knows he won't ask later, either, if Wei Ying won't talk about it. And when a-jie looks at both of them and smiles, Lan Zhan accepts it bravely.

Jiang Cheng protests the entire way back to the car, saying that one day back home won't kill him, even a month, it's been five years, a-jie, you tell him, he can't do this to us.

Jiang Yanli kisses his forehead as Wei Ying laughs through his tears again. 

Lan Zhan's arm is around his waist when they both stand in the middle of the road and Wei Ying is waving at the car that has long rounded the corner.

"What do you think?" Wei Ying asks. The question feels too large for what has happened.

"That we need a bigger house. Donkey has been a good girl."

Wei Ying glances at him. "Eh?"

Lan Zhan kisses his temple, lingering to feel Wei Ying's pulse under his lips. He does it when he worries.

"You said that if she's good, the family will grow. She is. We need a bigger house."

Wei Ying finally stops waving. "We need a new home?"

"No," Lan Zhan says, "home is where we are. We only need a bigger building to keep all the animals and kids in."

"And your knitting."

"Yes."

"And my baskets."

"Yes."

"Deal."