Ten years.
It's been ten years since Lan Wangji has last seen... him. It's been even more time since the last time he ever saw him smile.
Saying his name has never been this difficult before. But after today-.
Lan Wangji takes a shuddering breath, clenches his fists inside his sleeves. No one is watching, his only witness is the moon and yet he still tries to portray a perfectly neutral image to the world. A stubborn tear ignores him and rolls down his left cheek. He squeezes his eyes tighter, eyelashes quivering. He only allows himself to cry on the anniversary of his... death. Today is not his anniversary. No, that was a week ago. And yet, Lan Wangji still finds himself in the hidden most corner of the Cloud Recesses, after curfew, guqin resting on his lap, a jar of Emperor's Smile by his side. He lets his eyes linger there, he knows it's a terrible idea, he knows what may happen if he takes even a sip of it. He has a scar on his chest as a reminder. But he doesn't care, not tonight, not after what happened in the Hanshi. His fists clench tighter, leaving nail marks on his palms. He takes another breath, reties his long dark hair, and places his fingers in a familiar position.
A nameless song fills the air and carries upwards to the moon.
He doesn't know how long he plays. But it doesn't matter, sleep won't claim him any time soon. He plays and plays song after song, tune after tune. Composing has always come easy to him. And Lan Wangji lets himself get lost in the melody, the music makes him think of dark unruly hair, contagious bright laughter, shameless teasing, winks, "Lan Zhan!"s, black and red cultivator clothes, red hair ribbon flying in the wind, the most brilliant smile Lan Wangji has ever seen, it reminds him of elegant fingers holding a sword. Even though it later became a dizi... dark coils of resentful energy surrounding pale shaking fingers, choking the life out of everything that gets in the way. Deathly pale lips with scarlet blood flowing down the corner. Wei Ying falling.
Wei Ying falling.
He's falling.
Lan Wangji is too slow to save him.
Always too slow.
"Get lost!"
Lan Wangji shakes his head hard, he messes up his fingers, and the last note that rings out covers his loud sob.
His hands fly to cover his mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that follow and shake his frame, tense shoulders pull hard on the scars that will forever taint his back and phantom pain covers his whole body like a blanket that could never go away. Lan Wangji ignores the blood on his fingers for playing so long, the ache of his lower body for never changing position, all of this along with his scars do not compare with the pain he feels inside.
He feels wetness on his face and isn't sure if those are his tears or his blood.
He lets himself cry silently, grieve for a friend that may never smile again, for a lover that never was, and for a Zhiji who is long gone.
Will you ever come back to me, Wei Ying?
A treacherous voice in his head immediately answers.
It wouldn't matter now, would it?
Lan Wangji barks a sharp bitter sound, his whole body trembling. He tries to drown the voice but it just taunts him.
He never loved you, Lan Wangji.
You and he could never belong together, Hanguang Jun.
Who would want this scarred man, anyway?
"Wei Ying, come back to Gusu with me."
"Get lost!"
"No!" Lan Wangji grabs the nearest thing and throws it with all his might against the ground.
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FanfictionLan Qiren has had enough. It's been ten years since the Yiling Patriarch died and his poor nephew, the esteemed Hanguang-Jun, still has that lost look upon his face. (Not that Lan Qiren would ever admit out loud, that would just make it real. That w...
