vctanny



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    “Didi,” Wei Wuxian says softly. His thumb on Jiang Cheng’s cheek is calloused and warm and burns of affection. Jiang Cheng barely stops himself from leaning in. “Didi, don’t cry because of me.”

    I have thirteen years of mourning to catch up to, Jiang Cheng thinks, but doesn’t say. As always, the chasm between them is an incredible divide, and Wei Wuxian is the only one leaning his hand out into the darkness.

    (or: Jiang Cheng and his memories of his older brother, before and after the fall)

    Language:
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    05 Oct 2020