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It starts off like this: Wei Wuxian wakes up in the healer’s tent with Sixth Shidi playing a game on a tablet at his bedside and no recollection of the last handful of hours besides Wen Chao sneering at him. He’s sore in the way that being attacked, knocked out and then being healed with spiritual energy will do to you—with all the feeling but without the evidence. Sixth Shidi jumps when he moves to sit up, and in his excitement sneezes all over him.
See, Wei Wuxian can have his innards tumbling out from a slash in his stomach and his golden core will keep him alive for however long it takes to get assistance—but something-something about formative years on the streets and maybe just something more about him that makes his immune system go haywire. Wei Wuxian has always been quick to fever, and everytime a bug works its way around Yunmeng, it's guaranteed Wei Wuxian and the youngest disciples will bear the brunt of it—especially with the way they hang off him. He’d been sick as anything with the change after arriving in Lotus Pier.
Wei Wuxian only has time to wipe his face on his sleeve before Jiang Cheng stomps into the tent and looks at him sitting up in the cot. “Thank fuck, now get back out here.”
It's not until they’re home from the archery competition when fever and infection really takes hold and leaves him ill for days. Which then turns into weeks, months—and leaves him with a nasty cough. It’s unheard of in Lotus Pier, the healers not being able to come up with an explanation or solution. Jiang Yanli searches for home remedies online, cooking them up when it gets too much.
In the late winter, it returns with a vengeance and Wei Wuxian sulks to her when the symptoms stick around until they’re well into spring. She’s the only one he doesn’t have to put on a brave face for, to act like everything’s okay. He can’t remember how many mundane doctor visits she ends up dragging him to or how many prescriptions he has filled, after they decide there’s nothing much the cultivation healers can do.
(Although, he does indeed have his limits—he snaps at the girl who’d been unsuccessfully trying to hook up with him—though they have been heavily flirting—in their chat after she guilt-trips him when he doesn’t reply one time, only because he had a fever so high he passed out.)
He tries to move forward with his life—brought to conferences as the head disciple of the Jiang Sect; learns from Jiang Yanli how to apply the right kind of makeup to his face so he doesn’t look so sickly and pale under the bright hall lights, under the harshness of flash photography. She hides drinks for him to sip on when he’s about to choke on the need to cough during a speech, passes sugar candies to suck on when his dry throat is noticeable enough someone could question him.
He doesn’t bring his sword out, though, feeling weak enough that even drawing it is a hassle. It ends up making some Jins mad, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t give a flying fuck about snotty-nosed Jins—no matter how much Madam Yu stresses he should.
During one particularly bad conference, Lan Wangji corners him on his way back to the main hall, using the winding corridors to the restrooms for some semblance of privacy. Wei Wuxian hopes his breath doesn’t smell too noticeable when Lan Wangji leans over him; he didn’t have a toothbrush. His well practiced excuses—I’m just tired; I think something must’ve disagreed with me!; Hm? I’m perfectly fine, Lan Zhan!!—all fall on deaf ears. Lan Wangji reaches out, neither of them thinking, and curls his finger around a loose, damp lock of Wei Wuxian’s hair—looks directly to where his makeup has smudged from his tears, to where he’d messily wiped at his mouth in the rush to get out because he’d already taken so long.
Wei Wuxian shoves Lan Wangji away and rushes off without looking back, returning to his room to properly break down and empty his stomach again.
—
The cough finally, fucking finally, seems to take the hint and leave. Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian doesn’t get any actual rest. He is still feverish. His stomach aches worse and worse everyday. He knows he's passing blood. However, when he asks about it at his check up—because it honestly is concerning, even for him—they just tell him to eat better and it’ll pass now that he’s not needing all those antibiotics.
Except that it doesn’t, and he almost faints on the toilet as it’s so painful. He starts losing his appetite—he doesn’t want to eat. It even starts to hurt after he swallows. Sometimes he’s sick—most of the time he makes it to the bathroom, but he has thrown up directly into his hands. Jiang Yanli drags him back to the doctor when he does exactly that in front of her.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t remember the last meal he had with his family, the last spicy food he could get down, the last moment he had where he wasn’t in some kind of pain. Was it something he did? Something to turn his body so against him like this, to have his golden core just ignore this part of him. Some nights, late into the evening, he drinks the lukewarm broth of his shijie’s soup while she watches and fusses with him. Usually he makes it back to his room before it signals its coming back up. Tonight, however, he vomits it all straight up into his bowl.
It’s a shame, because he’s really hungry right now.
He accidentally chokes on it and the world spins while Jiang Yanli rushes to clean him and the table up. She gives him a small plastic bucket—she must have been keeping it nearby, just in case—which he continues to vomit into until he’s just coughing out bile.
—
Somehow, he only just makes it through the next few days. He can barely even choke down water anymore. During the middle of the night, he makes frequent trips to and from the toilet; every breath coming out as a sob without him realising it. He tries to watch lighthearted, funny clips he finds online to keep from going crazy from the pain.
The light turns on at the hallway that leads to his room and Jiang Yanli pokes her head through the door. She takes one look at him, their eyes only just meeting, before she closes the door as silently as she came in. Wei Wuxian only then notices how loud he’s probably being, dragging his feet through Lotus Pier, the sounds of his retching and continuously flushing the toilet. He had tried to quiet himself, but he only ended up louder.
Wei Wuxian is already a bit in self-induced hysterics by the time the door opens again and Jiang Yanli tugs Madam Yu into the room. His breath catches in his throat when she stares down at him like he’s dirt on her shoe.
“Mother,” his beautiful, kind, smart, lovely shijie pleads. “A-Xian needs to go to the hospital. Please, I don’t care what you think about this anymore, look at him! We should’ve sent him weeks ago when nothing was helping. He needs to go now.”
Madam Yu’s hand comes up to her brow, rubbing at it, before she really takes Wei Wuxian in. He does look a right mess. His lips are cracked and dry, face white as a sheet with dark rings around his eyes. His hair is straggly, haphazardly pushed back from his face. He's lost weight and he’s swaying slightly, even sitting down.
She reaches out a hand for his wrist and takes a deep, concerned sounding breath after checking it. She looks him straight in the eyes; he’s never seen her with that expression towards him before. “Do you want to go to the hospital, Wei Wuxian?”
Wei Wuxian blinks at her, at Jiang Yanli. Is— is this a trick, or…?
“Yes, Madam Yu, I would like to go to the hospital.” he tries to say it in the nicest, most polite voice he can muster—even if it’s cracking, his throat dry.
“Should we call an ambulance?” Madam Yu asks at the same time Jiang Yanli begins to bundle Wei Wuxian back into his pyjamas—he’d stripped his upper half, it just gets dirty—and a jacket. It's 4am and the night is chilly; although he takes off the extra layers and hat she tries to put on him. Jiang Yanli pulls her car keys out of her back pocket. She’d already been dressed to leave before she got Madam Yu up.
“Yunmeng Central Hospital isn’t too far, and they already have A-Xian on file. I can drive him myself.” Jiang Yanli says, directing Wei Wuxian slowly out of his room. Madam Yu follows them to the garage; gets in the car with them at the driver's seat. Jiang Yanli stares at her for a moment before making sure Wei Wuxian is as comfortable as he can be right now in the back seat, before they’re off.
Nobody wakes the Jiang men.
—
Wei Wuxian is shaken awake when they arrive at the hospital’s emergency department almost 20 minutes later, not remembering having fallen asleep. It’s a slow midweek night but it still takes a good 30 or so minutes to go through triage. Wei Wuxian almost vomits twice during the wait, but he tries his best to hold it in. The plastic chairs with plastic cushioning hurt; he just can’t sit still. Someone goes in before him and they stare him down like they’ve won some game. Wei Wuxian just worries about how hot it’s suddenly gotten in here.
By the time they’re called in and he’s put in a bed, Wei Wuxian is trembling and can barely even speak. Jiang Yanli helps him lay on his side while Madam Yu confirms his and their details to the nurse who brought them in.
He fades in and out of consciousness for a few hours. A nurse puts a drip in his arm, but it hasn’t been used yet. He's been asked the same questions over and over again, sometimes he can give an answer and sometimes Jiang Yanli has to. The nurse who draws his blood accidentally leaves without taking it with her.
Around 7:30am, he suddenly really, really needs to pee. Jiang Yanli and Madam Yu have to haul him out of bed just to get him to stand, and the nurse at the nurse’s station points him in the direction of the toilet when he drags his feet past to ask about it. He takes so long in there that the same nurse knocks to check on him. He can’t remember the last time he peed even was, but he empties his bladder and slowly shuffles back to his assigned bed.
Not even ten minutes later, another nurse who’s just started their shift comes to him with a specimen cup and says the doctors have asked for a urine sample. The sooner he can give it, the better, but they won’t let him have anything to drink or eat in case he has to have something done in the morning. Wei Wuxian cries trying to squeeze something out. The nurse at the nurse’s station coos at him when he hands it back there and then catches him when he trips over his own feet the next second. He feels pathetic. He feels fucked over again when they put a catheter in him only a few hours later.
Something is obviously wrong with him, and when it’s clear he’s going to be here for a while, they move him to a different area. His little bay is in the far corner, but this time all the open sides can be hidden with curtains. There’s a window. It's a little bit louder as nurses and patients are more talkative now that it’s not sleeping hours. He's finally passed out by the time some doctors come to see him; Madam Yu leaving Jiang Yanli to fend for herself to update her husband and son and get something to eat. It’s almost lunchtime. Wei Wuxian sobs out his thirst and hunger.
—
Around 3pm, a nurse comes into Wei Wuxian’s bay with a smile and a happy little hello. She confirms some details with him—he’s actually awake now—places a jug in front of him and hooks ip an IV bag to the machine next to his bed. Fluids, he must be quite dehydrated by now, she replies when he asks her what it’s for. Huh? When was he allowed to have fluids? Turns out, he wouldn’t have any tests where he needs to fast today, he should’ve been able to have something around lunch time. She offers the sandwiches they have available for patients, but there’s no way he could swallow it in his state. He's in too much pain still to even be properly angry.
Sometime later, he’s taken up—still laying in his bed and all—into a ward. Apparently it’s not the ward he’s meant to go to, but it’s one that has a bed and that’s good enough. It takes two nurses and the man that drove his bed up here on the machine to get him to slide over onto his new bed using a slippery sheet; his body like a dead weight.
The hospital and nurses are strict with visiting hours and Wei Wuxian really tries to hold it together when Jiang Yanli is forced to leave. The two nurses who helped him into his bed are back, now to help him settle for sleep. One has a bit of a guilty expression when she pulls on some fresh gloves. She explains what she’s doing, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t really understand until she’s shoving her finger unceremoniously up his asshole and Fuck! That fucking hurts!
He sobs when they help him turn back around, and then the flood gates open. He gasps for breath and cries quietly, feeling abandoned and scared like he hasn’t felt in years. The nurses let him cry for a moment, before trying to reassure him everything’s going to be okay. It doesn’t work, but he tries to self soothe after they leave.
Jiang Yanli left his phone, in case he needed anything, so he logs onto his social media for nothing better to do. He checks into the hospital's location and writes ‘been here since 4am. ugh!’ with some emojis before sending it off and closing the app. Jiang Yanli has sent him a few messages since she left, some cute pictures and the time she’ll be there again in the morning.
Wei Wuxian cries himself exhausted.
—
In the middle of the night, he’s jolted into half consciousness by a loud racket inside his room. A nurse sees his eyes open in the dim light, quickly checking him over before telling him he’s getting a roommate. He falls back into a fitful sleep.
He gets given breakfast. The lukewarm tea feels so nice against his bone dry throat, but he doesn’t even make it past the first mouthful of solid food. He tries, but even just looking at it makes him want to be sick. Jiang Yanli arrives just as he’s given up trying, looking about just as haggard as he feels.
Her arms around him feel like cotton clouds, soft and warm and welcoming. Wei Wuxian clings to her with all his strength and really tries to not break down again with his face pressed into her shoulder. They chat—or well, Jiang Yanli talks at him—until a doctor comes into the room. Except he bypasses Wei Wuxian and goes straight to his new roommate, which he’d forgotten about. They end up having an argument and the patient breaks down, leaving the atmosphere awkward.
Wei Wuxian is in and out of consciousness for most of the day, only really awake when a nurse or doctor needs something from him. Jiang Yanli eats the lunch they bring him. He frustratedly cries and vomits back up half the juice he tries to drink. Nothing much happens besides him vomiting, sleeping, sobbing when the pain’s too much, getting his blood drawn and the infrequent changing of his IV. He still uncontrollably bawls after Jiang Yanli leaves.
His roommate gets moved the next morning, pushed out in a wheelchair. When their eyes meet she gives him a shy smile and says she hopes he gets better soon. Jiang Yanli comes in soon after and comments about what a lovely young lady she is, it’s a pity she’s so unwell. When Wei Wuxian gives her a confused look, she tells him about how she’d told Jiang Yanli how concerned she was for Wei Wuxian, just from hearing him cry. “‘It sounds so painful‘ she said,” Yanli tells him. “‘like torture‘.”
Wei Wuxian asks to be shifted over to the window. A quite large, probably around the same age as him, guy takes the bed he previously occupied next. In the middle of the night, while he chokes out vomit into the little plastic trays they’d given him—that do not hold much at all, he just gets it all over himself—the guy watches hentai videos on his laptop. Wei Wuxian knows this because it’s so loud that he can hear it through the guy’s headphones. He presses the call button repeatedly at his bedside but passes out before anyone comes to him.
—
Doctors visit, but don’t have answers for him. His body is attacking itself, but they don't know why just yet.
Breakfast comes with an apple. Jiang Yanli cuts him a few slices, which he manages to choke down. Suddenly he’s really craving watermelon, but Jiang Yanli won’t go and bring him any. He gets shitty about it, knowing he’s throwing a tantrum, but he’s getting frustrated and resentful that he’s still having to be stuck in the hospital with no answers and it’s coming out in any outlet it can.
Mid morning, his phone starts blowing up with notification pings. He’s had it locked in a drawer so no one could take it while he slept and has to interrupt a busy nurse’s schedule so he can get it. He has to twist around the bed to use it, Jiang Yanli having brought her charger but the powerpoint far away. Anyway, apparently the results for some ‘Cultivation’s Most Eligible Bachelors’ competition had been realised and Wei Wuxian’s entry made the top three. A welcomed distraction! He laughs for the first time in who knows when as he shares the post and likes his friends comments. He replies to comments congratulating him, on only a few asking him how he’s holding up.
That’s when he notices Lan Wangji’s message on his chat app. He looks up at Jiang Yanli and she just hums when he shows her. “You’re always saying that you’re good friends, aren’t you, A-Xian? He’s probably worried. You should reply!”
Lan Zhan!!🥰💙 8/5 8:47
>> Wei Ying, you were admitted to hospital? Are you alright?
Wei Wuxian 10/5 10:32
>> /waving stamp/
>> lan zhan!! thank u for u concern 🥺 um, i don’t really know what’s going on, but i’ll be out soon dw!!!!
>> oh! sorry for the late reply!! 🥺🥺
Wei Wuxian locks his phone a few minutes later, ready to put it away, when it buzzes with another message from Lan Wangji.
Lan Zhan!!🥰💙 10:40
>> Are you still in Yunmeng Central?
Wei Wuxian 10:41
>> yes ofc where else would i go??? ur so funny lan zhan!!
Wei Wuxian laughs again when Lan Wangji’s reply is just a bunny stamp that says ‘get well soon’ on it. Then, he has to really put his phone away as he starts retching.
—
Wei Wuxian’s roommate’s fucking girlfriend fucking hides in his roommate’s fucking closet when the nurses do their final sweep for lingering visitors when hours are over. He’s seething but he doesn’t have energy to grab for the call button, much less talk. She ends up getting discovered at midnight and kicked out when a nurse comes in to check on them. This time, he’s subjected to overly loud softcore porn scenes in an action movie.
The IV machine is bulky, clunky and likes to scream out its beeps when it has finished. Dragging it to and from the bathroom is a feat he can’t often make. Asking to be put near the window—further from the door—was a bad decision. A nurse grabs it and helps him along when he’s very clearly struggling, his arms and legs trembling. They offer to find one of those toilet chairs for him, but he refuses; he’s not that old yet.
Wei Wuxian gets moved to another ward—the ward he’s actually meant to be in—first thing that morning. The same guy who originally brought him up here comes along with a wheelchair though, this time. The man refuses Wei Wuxian’s thanks when he helps him into it. Wei Wuxian holds his own IV bag when he fiddles with the stand, then off they go.
The man almost reminds him of Wen Ning. Wow, he misses Wen Ning so much. He misses his friends. Neither Jiang Fengmian nor Jiang Cheng have come to see him. Madam Yu hasn’t been back.
After getting settled into the gastro ward and his currently otherwise unoccupied room, the nurse informs him they need to change the location of his IV. Usually his veins are quite easily noticeable through his skin, but he’s so dehydrated, and the only ones they haven’t already used are in the back of his hand. He isn’t prepared for how much it hurts, how the nurse has to call in reinforcements. He can’t help the scream that tears from his throat. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! The second nurse that’s called gets it in on the first try after the first one gives up and goes away, visibly upset. Wei Wuxian feels bad for her, but he literally cannot compute anything else at this moment beyond the searing pain in his hand.
The depressing day just keeps getting worse when another nurse comes in later and puts a full pitcher on his table. “More bad news, hun.” the nurse says. “The doctors want to do an endoscopy on you, so you gotta prep.”
(Un?)fortunately, Nie Huaisang had once needed a scope done, and had whined to them all in a group chat about how much he fucking hated the prep, so he thinks he can handle it.
...Except that he can’t. Wei Wuxian’s already passed his breaking point, but the drink makes him vomit and be upset like no other. He can’t keep it down. He can’t even get it into his mouth without it coming back up. His throat burns. He’s so glad Jiang Yanli had an appointment she couldn’t miss this morning, so she’s missing this literal shitshow instead.
The same nurse who brought him the first pitcher brings him a fresh one. He hasn’t even gotten a quarter into the first. Along with the jug are several sealed cups of apple and orange juices. “You can mix it, to hide the taste. As long as you drink it down.”
There’s not enough to even cover a little of the taste, but it does help, even only slightly. He's starting on the second pitcher when the nurse comes back, again with the guilty look. They’ve decided to postpone the scopes until tomorrow morning—so he’ll have to stop the prep now, start again later tonight instead. He also needs to have his blood taken in a certain, painful way every hour from now on.
He covers his mouth as he cries out in frustration and pain later on the toilet as his insides get torn out. Then messages Jiang Yanli to buy a large bottle of juice on her way over.
—
He wakes up back in the ward after the scopes are over, bleary, with a nurse hovering over him. His brain and tongue feel stuffed with cotton. No one’s even around when he cries for the nth time.
In the late afternoon, when his team of doctors return, they bring the head of the department with them. She takes one look at Wei Wuxian and frowns. “So, I heard you’re not eating.”
Wei Wuxian balks. He has been trying to, thank you very much, but he either can’t keep it down or just the sight makes him want to gag! He tries to say this, but instead just ends up sobbing. They tell him that he's already lost more than ten kilos. They’re going to have to put something up his arm, if he doesn’t start eating, to give him the nutrients he needs to get better. The tears of frustration are unstoppable. She’s acting like this is his fault, like he wanted this, which is not true. In any case, he immediately signs the consent forms for the procedure. They do this just before the nurse comes to take his blood cultures, drawing his blood into the strange bottles, and they watch him grit his teeth to hold back his screams.
Jiang Yanli’s face is shiny and red with tears of her own when the room finally empties. She holds him so close, absolutely terrified for him and finally showing it. Wei Wuxian has to force her to go home, to take a break from this place.
He’s so, so fucking glad she’s not there when his stomach makes an awful sounding groan and suddenly the inside of his underwear is wet. The agonising few metre waddle to the toilet is only made better by the fact he doesn’t need to drag his IV machine with him right now. When he finally gets in there and stares down at his very soiled underwear and pyjama pants, he feels like breaking down a-fucking-gain. How the /
fuck does someone shit their fucking pants after they’ve actually been emptied?
A nurse knocks politely against the bathroom door when she comes to answer the call button he’s pushed. Wei Wuxian warns her it’s gross, but she just replies that it’s nothing she hasn’t already seen, it doesn’t even smell! You should’ve smelled this one guy—! In a flash, he’s cleaned up, wearing hospital issue pants and—this is embarrassing but—a large menstrual pad on a fresh pair of underwear. She puts him to bed with something to help settle his stomach and for once Wei Wuxian actually manages to drift off easily.
It’s A Time trying to explain to Jiang Yanli what happened to his pants in the morning when she notices the change, but she understands. Even if her expression changes to pity when she thinks he’s not looking.
He gets sent off to have the line installed in a wheelchair and has a hell of a time getting to watch on the overhead screens. The world tilts when he gets up from the bench-like bed, but he makes it back up to the ward in one piece.
...Or at least that’s until he sees Lan Wangji waiting at his bedside. “Lan Zhan?!” he gasps, just realising he hasn’t seen his phone in days. “What— How—?”
“Wei Ying, ugh—!” Lan Wangji grunts when Wei Wuxian accidentally falls on him.
Sorry, Lan Zhan, he’s not so steady on his feet anymore. Ah, don’t grab there, they just put the line in and it’s all tender. They’re distracted by a nurse coming to get him settled, checking his arm and quickly setting up his first drip of nutrients when she finds it satisfactory.
Nurse gone, Wei Wuxian drags his stare from his throbbing left elbow to Lan Wangji. There’s something in his expression that Wei Wuxian just can’t place.
“Your shijie.” Lan Wangji says quietly.
“Huh?”
“Jiang Yanli. She informed me of your bed location when I inquired about you. She also said you’ve yet to receive visitors, and she’s worried you’re lonely when she isn’t able to be by your side.”
“T-that’s the most words I've ever heard you say at once, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says as he rubs at his chest, he can feel the foreignness of the end of the tube resting in there.
“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji says, sounding almost strained.
“Is that why you came to visit me, Lan Zhan? You think I’m lonely?” Wei Wuxian’s voice loses the now obviously fake playful edge. He’s tired.
He is lonely. He thinks back to years ago, when Wen Xu broke Lan Wangji’s leg and he’d been kept in hospital, too, without any visitors except his brother and Wei Wuxian. Was Lan Wangji lonely like this?
“Mn,” Lan Wangji replies, giving the smallest nod, not knowing Wei Wuxian’s already going off. “and to see your condition with my own two eyes.”
The words bring him back to the present, and Wei Wuxian furrows his brows. “Hm? You worried ‘bout me, Lan Zhan?”
“Mm.” Lan Wangji hums quietly and looks down, not at him anymore.
Wei Wuxian can’t stop the deep shaky breath that escapes him, and that makes Lan Wangji finally search for Wei Wuxian’s eyes. When he wakes up an hour later—when had he fallen asleep?—his hands are warm and curled up, but Lan Wangji is gone.
It almost seems as if Lan Wangji’s visit triggers something, because the next day, Jiang Yanli returns to his room with Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang and Jin Zixuan trailing behind her. She doesn’t stay long with her fiancé, only enough time for him to give some well wishes, and suddenly his two best friends are at his bedside.
He’s exhausted, but happy to see them. Jiang Cheng wraps him in a tight hug he almost can’t give back. They chat about everything and nothing—emphasis on nothing in relation to why he’s in the hospital, how Jiang Cheng didn’t even know—led by Nie Huaisang. It lasts a good while before Nie Huaisang gets quiet, just looking at Wei Wuxian. He shakes his head and sighs after a moment. “Man, you look fucking awful.”
Wei Wuxian visibly flinches. “This ain't exactly like a 5 star hotel, where it doesn’t matter if I can walk or not because some servants can just carry me.” he huffs.
Nie Huaisang just hums while Jiang Cheng doesn’t say anything else. They hug him again when they leave, though, Jiang Yanli pressing an extra long kiss into his cheek.
—
In the middle of the night, Wei Wuxian sits up in the hospital bed, wide awake. His stomach is bloated; distended and groaning. If he looks close enough, he can see it, raised and moving underneath his skin with every gurgle. It’s not supposed to be doing that, he’s pretty sure.
Laying a hand over the top of his stomach, he tries to sooth it by rubbing slowly. It feels strange, softer than it’s ever been; like his hand could just. sink. down through the layers of tissue and fat. He only has to put a little pressure. The smell of blood reaches his nose and his fingers become wet and sticky. Something’s rather slimy and delicate underneath his fingertips. He wraps his hand around it.
And squeezes.
—
Wei Wuxian awakes with a start, hands flying to his stomach. He’s still fully clothed in his pyjamas as his fingers race across to the hem of his shirt. His stomach is still whole under it, trembling. No hands go through skin even with all the strength he can muster; no blood on his fingertips or under his nails. He takes a breath, flops back against the pillows and is still awake when the nurses do their next rounds.
—
They have to rule out a whole laundry list of diseases and tests he has to be put through. They quickly realise, for some weird—and absolutely crushing for Wei Wuxian—reason, that they can’t draw blood using the PICC line when they definitely should be able to. So he has to grit his teeth when his skin is broken again and again, big bruises forming beneath.
When the doctors come to him having some promising results—better yet a treatment!—he can’t wait to start. Even if the treatment is corticosteroids and the side effects are worse than its actual effects.
And holy shit, those side effects, hey. Not even 24 hours of his first dose and he is ravenous. He inhales the lunch they bring him, though he still just throws it back up later; his body not quite ready yet. The sight of food still makes him want to be sick—while at the same time his mind is screaming at him to eat something, anything, just eat something.
He ends up sending Jiang Yanli a message whining about it and about two hours later, a food box that’s still warm is placed on his bedside tray. Except it isn’t his shijie on the other side of it—Lan Wangji is. Wei Wuxian’s mind short circuits, screaming that he’s making a mess slurping and practically inhaling Jiang Yanli’s soup like a starving man in front of Lan Wangji. But then again, he has kind of been a starving man. He has so much inner turmoil over this that he completely misses the smile on Lan Wangji’s face as he finally sees Wei Wuxian be able to eat again.
His weight balloons. His face gets rounder and flushed red, the ten kilos he’d lost suddenly return with even more stacked on top. He takes one real look at his stomach in the mirror when he tries to have a shower (he can manage alone now, but he needs to use a seat) before he decides to Not Do That Again.
Now that he’s got a tentative answer, a treatment, he’s finally stopped throwing up… he wants to go home. The nurses just smile and nod and pat him whenever he asks if they think he can go home now. He gets the PICC line removed—the night before he ends up getting discharged—now that he can swallow again. It hurts coming out way way much more than it did going in, but he just grits his teeth against that too. The nurse who takes it out even comments on how quiet he was. Then, in a flash the next morning, Wei Wuxian is signing discharge papers and fondly waved out of the ward.
Jiang Yanli collects him, and to his surprise Lan Wangji is in the driver's seat of her car. He didn't know Lan Wangji could drive.
He quietly reads the reports they sent him home with for his own doctor. He doesn’t understand the words, but the pictures… What the fuck? That’s the inside of his esophagus? His stomach? No wonder he couldn’t swallow, couldn’t keep anything down. What would’ve happened if he hadn’t been taken to the hospital that night two or so weeks ago? Would he have choked to death on his own vomit, caught on his scarring?
Jiang Fengmian meets them at the door and scoops Wei Wuxian into the biggest hug he’s ever been given by the man. He whisper-chants his name into his hairline, grip around Wei Wuxian’s waist tight—it's almost reminiscent of when he’d pulled him off the streets as a child. He'd been so worried, he says, but he hadn’t even bothered coming to see him in the hospital. Jiang Cheng and Madam Yu are nowhere in sight.
Lan Wangji turns on the hot water for him when Wei Wuxian asks for a shower. He gets to use his own good shampoo and his own nice scented body wash again.
But then Lan Wangji doesn’t leave, taking Wei Wuxian’s clothes when he strips, looking away, and helping him step into the spray. He stays close, gaze on Wei Wuxian’s face, as he sways. He ends up half stripped himself, leaning over to wash Wei Wuxian’s hair as he’s sat on the edge of the bathtub. Neither of them mentions the amount of it that falls out and ends up as a wet pile next to them. Or that any of this happened at all, for that matter.
Still, Wei Wuxian feels almost brand new when he’s bundled up in bed later. Lan Wangji sits on the edge of his bed and slowly, carefully, combs his fingers through Wei Wuxian’s still damp hair. It tickles, but he unconsciously leans into his touch. His eyelids are heavy and by the time he succumbs to sleep, he feels something else warm wrap around him.
—
There’s blood everywhere; on the walls, in his hair, coating his face. He wipes it away with a finger—almost indifferent to it—and looks at the unfamiliar, blurred face in the mirror. The skin under his eyes is almost black, rubbery. He puts the whole hand on his face, and his reflection does the same. ‘It is me,’ he thinks.
Then, it winks.
Fingers slowly sink into flesh and pull. The first layer of skin and fat peel away like paper, leaving him looking shiny and new beneath it.
—
Jiang Yanli drags him out of the house, into her car and plops him down into a plush seat at the very expensive hair salon she favours. The stylist touches his hair in a way that makes him shiver when he lets it down from the messy bun it’d been in and she hums thoughtfully. “You’ve been pretty unwell, hey? Poor thing. You’re almost all your sister talks about.”
Wei Wuxian balks a little at the words, and the stylist chuckles a little when she sees his face in the mirror.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad! She’s just been worried about you.” That doesn’t make him feel any better. “Now, what can we do for you today? You’ve got me for the next few hours, so whatever you’d like!”
Wei Wuxian looks at his dry looking, limp hair in the mirror—being sick and in the hospital has really fucked it up, and he used to take such good care of it.
“Can…” he hesitates, touching the tips of his hair. “Can you make it look nice again?”
“Of course we can, sweetheart! That’s what we’re here for. Anything else? Want a change or something?”
“A change?”
“Yea, like a big chop or, if that’s too much, maybe add some colour? Just dying the ends is a big fad now, if you want to try! You have such long hair, it’d be quite lovely.”
She runs her fingers down from almost half way up his hair, giving him a picture of where she’s talking about. It would be kind of cool, but when he considers the eyes it’d put on him—and he already has so many eyes in him—he starts rethinking it. “Uh, maybe next time?”
The next few hours pass in the blur of the smell of products and short trips back and forth to the wash basin—they end up putting him in the closest chair so he doesn’t have to show everyone how much he struggles—and eventually Jiang Yanli sits in the chair beside him. He peeks out from the hot towel placed on his face and sees her smiling at him. She chats to him about lunch, which he only half listens to as the last round of washing his hair makes him drowsy. He’s barely paying attention, brain under a thick layer of fog, by the time his hair is dried with the freshly trimmed ends curled and all tied back with his red ribbon. The stylist poses him for a few ‘after’ photos. It feels softer, almost fuller, looks shinier.
It isn’t until they’re back in the car that Jiang Yanli realises he’s checked out, that his eyes are only open because no one’s closed them for him. They end up eating take out in the back seat of the car, Wei Wuxian’s hands mechanically feeding himself while Jiang Yanli watches, frowning, and gives him what’s left of hers when he’s still hungry.
—
Wei Wuxian can’t cultivate in this condition. He can barely even walk all the way down the hallway to his room without crashing into the wall. He tries meditating, tries circulating his spiritual energy, but he gets thrown out of it too easily, panting and shaking. His spiritual energy feels like sludge—unfamiliar and wrong as it crawls through his meridians.
He falls to the floor at the feet of Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu, bowing, asking for forgiveness of his failures. To his surprise, Madam Yu is the one to bring him up, assuring him it’s going to be okay. They tell everyone he’s in seclusion.
Still, the Jiangs are met with backlash when Wei Wuxian doesn’t appear at the first discussion conference that happens after he is released from hospital. Jiang Yanli, having low level cultivation, and Lan Wangji, who doesn’t participate much anyway, aren’t even missed, but Wei Wuxian is the head disciple! The other sects get a surprise when, a few months later, Yunmeng hosts and Wei Wuxian is there next to his martial siblings.
Imagine Wei Wuxian’s own surprise when they meet the arriving Wen delegation and Wen Ning’s had a growth spurt and bulked up since they last met. His little sweetheart of a friend not only picks him up but spins him around, laughing and making him dizzy, when they finally get a moment alone. Wen Qing grabs his wrist when he turns pale afterwards, swaying on his feet. She immediately feels how weak he’s really become. She whispers something to Wen Ning, and the boy’s face loses all colour as his eyes widen, “Wei-gongzi! I’m so sorry! I d-didn’t know. I-I, do you want to sit down, go back to your room?”
Fuck, does Wei Wuxian want to bail and go hide, curl up in his bed. It’s bad enough he still doesn’t carry his sword and can really feel the weight of all those eyes on him. He only takes the offer to sit down, and only for a moment. He’s on his feet again as soon as Lan Wangji approaches, only for his knees to completely buckle underneath him—he’s saved by Lan Wangji’s tight grip on his arm, but—
“Lan Zhan? What is it?” Wei Wuxian asks as Lan Wangji drags his eyes from where his hand is wrapped around Wei Wuxian’s arms to his face. “You’re… you’re scaring me, Lan Zhan.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji grits through his teeth, before remembering that the Wens are watching. He looks back down to his hand. Ah, wait, shit. Lan Zhan found out, too? He’s that open and raw now? Fuck.
Wei Wuxian takes a shuddering breath, but barely gets to do anything about it when they can all hear someone start to loudly talk shit about him. Wei Wuxian looks past Lan Wangji, who only just turns slightly in the man’s direction. There's a red spot on his forehead that marks him as a Jin. Fuck, really? Right fucking now?
“Who the fuck is that?” Wei Wuxian mutters, voicing only one of his thoughts aloud.
“Jin Zixun,” Lan Wangji replies, just as quietly. Wei Wuxian jerks, still in Lan Wangji’s hold, and Lan Wangji’s other hand moves to the small of his back.
He still doesn’t know who that is. Unfortunately, he knows who Wei Wuxian is, and that Wei Wuxian is now listening. Jin Zixun moves to walk up to Wei Wuxian, puffing his chest out. Sound becomes muffled in Wei Wuxian’s ears—he can see mouths moving but can’t make out any words. He feels resigned, suddenly, and sinks right back into Lan Wangji’s embrace without meaning to. Lan Wangji slides his hand up to gently rest at the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck, anchoring him.
“—you don’t even have your sword! Look at you, you’ve gotten so fucking fat. How shameless! You’re supposed to be—“ Wei Wuxian’s vision starts to swim, he lifts a hand to his temple.
Lan Wangji’s arms further tighten around him. “Wei Ying,” he murmurs.
“—and I wanted the chance to spar with you. What elitist bullshit. Where is it?”
“Didn’t feel like bringing it out.” Wei Wuxian mumbles, resting his gaze… somewhere.
“Well, I’m telling you to go and get it! You—! What? What is it?”
Wei Wuxian blinks to see Jiang Yanli now standing between him and Jin Zixun. She has her back to him, so he can’t see her face. He's only heard her sound so serious once.
“While it’s true A-Xian has been… disrespectful by not carrying his sword today, I believe Jin-gongzi can find it within the goodness of his heart to understand why he is currently unable to carry it—“ Jiang Yanli says, pausing to take a breath. “Or am I wrong, Jin-gongzi, and you have no compassion for your fellow man?” she adds, when Jin Zixun starts to protest. She doesn’t take her eyes off him. “As you mentioned, it’s no secret that A-Xian has been severely unwell these past few months. If he was anyone older, or even younger, he would be able to recover without questioning. Yes, he is Yunmeng Jiang’s head disciple, but he is also human, Jin-gongzi. You owe him an apology for the terrible, shaming and ableist things you’ve said. A-Xian is hurting, but I suppose you will never understand that.”
Jin Zixun said— Wei Wuxian inhales sharply, shaking on the exhale. He hadn’t heard everything that he said; he no longer really hears what’s being said now. Everything feels so heavy and dark.
“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji exclaims, but low enough that only he will hear, and it cuts through whatever the fuck was just happening to Wei Wuxian like a knife.
Wei Wuxian snaps his gaze to Lan Wangji’s face, then promptly passes out.
—
Lan Wangji doesn’t seem to leave Lotus Pier after all that commotion. Jiang Yanli sends him to his room with freshly made food or clean clothes—back and forth like a little messenger boy.
Eating is more of a chore now than when he couldn’t eat at all. It wasn’t even this bad when he was actually out there starving on the streets. Yanli makes him his very own pots of soup, which he inhales like air. Sometimes Lan Wangji watches him eat and he feels too embarrassed about it.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says casually, one day as Lan Wangji is playing his guqin. Really, he’s supposed to be trying to meditate. “why haven’t you gone home?”
The next note falters as Lan Wangji suddenly stops playing and looks up at Wei Wuxian. Ah, wait, fuck, wait.
“Ah, ah, surely you’re homesick? You’ve been here for, what, months now? And you haven’t been back once and I… I…”
“Wei Ying,”
“I don’t want to drag you down and force you to be where you don’t want to, Lan Zhan—“
“Wei Ying.”
“Lan Zhan, I, mpph—!”
Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen as Lan Wangji leans over the table, tucks a loose strand of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear and kisses him. On the lips. Lan Wangji’s kissing him on the lips. Before he can get his bearings, Lan Wangji starts to pull away. Wei Wuxian whines and grabs his shirt to pull him back in, smashing their lips together with all the awkwardness of a first kiss. Wei Wuxian lets Lan Wangji move back the second time he tries.
Lan Wangji looks into his eyes, “Wei Ying,” he says desperately. “I’m in love with you. You… frightened me, back then. I’ve realised I cannot lose you.”
“Oh, Lan Zhan. My sweet, sweet Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian lifts his hands to sink them into Lan Wangji’s hair. “you have me. You’ve always had me.”
Wei Wuxian sends Lan Wangji home the next week, feeling giddy with new love.
—
‘I could strangle him, if I wanted to, and he would let me.’ Wei Wuxian thinks to himself as he looks at Lan Wangji—at his wide shoulders straining in the white top he’s wearing, at his beautiful eyes fondly looking straight back into his, at his mouth.
And he does, riding him later that night in bed, Lan Wangji’s hard cock dragging its way through his insides. Lan Wangji’s fingers dig into his waist painfully, right into the stretch marks that now decorate it. Wei Wuxian’s own cock twitches half hard against Lan Wangji’s abdomen, and he slides his hand up from his belly button. They look at each other as the hand wraps around Lan Wangji’s throat and squeezes. It’s difficult, not like how his organs were in that one dream he had. Wei Wuxian’s body tilts forward when he adds his other hand, adding pressure. Lan Wangji lets him—takes it—even as the colour starts to leave his face and his hands on Wei Wuxian slacken. His mouth works; Wei Wuxian can’t hear with what, but his throat moves under his grip in a way that almost makes him want to let go. Eyes lose focus and Lan Wangji bucks underneath him, coming pulsing and hot inside Wei Wuxian.
Wei Wuxian blinks and his eyes are wet. His face is, too, when he lifts a cold, sore hand to it. He looks to the side, he’s alone in bed and propped up on several pillows. Did he—?
In his left hand, his phone buzzes loud and Lan Wangji’s name appears on the screen. He stares at it so long that the ringing finishes and immediately starts again. He lets it drop against the bed.
—
He looks up the symptoms online; loss of appetite, weight loss, increased appetite, weight gain, depression, paranoia—
Paranoia. Yea. Yea, that checks out. It's the medicine’s fault. It’s…
It's only a little longer.
—
'Fuck,' he thinks, whipping his head around his shoulder for the nth time—only to see nothing, no one.
There’s eyes on him, peering over his shoulder, his head, as he works. It’s only coping talismans, something he can do with his eyes closed or asleep.
Why is— Something, someone, checking on him, watching him like they want to catch his mistake?
A glance above him, tracks his eyes across the ceiling. He shudders involuntarily.
He gets up, abandoning his work and uses the bathroom.
The eyes don’t follow him.
Coming back to the table, scattered with stacks of paper, cinnabar, ink, he…wants to snap his own neck.
His hands twitch.
Wei Wuxian quickly gathers up the materials and almost runs away to his room, cursing under his breath. He’s scared.
—
The mundane specialists he sees—he no longer sees cultivation healers at all, given up on them as they don’t understand how their treatments no longer do anything for him—eventually put him on different meds and want to do a check up procedure. When the nurse calls him to confirm his paperwork and his appointment, she tells him the only date they can fit him in and he’ll have the full results for his next appointment is on his birthday. It makes him sigh before he laughs. He had cancelled his birthday plans shortly after he’d returned from the hospital.
Without question, he takes the appointment—and on the day of it, he confuses another nurse who asks him to confirm his date of birth while he’s lying on the table. She asks if he’ll do anything after this. Honestly, he just wants a bowl of his shijie’s soup and to be able to have a good night's sleep. The anaesthesiologist talks about his favourite birthday cakes as Wei Wuxian drifts off.
Later, when he wakes up alone in Recovery, all the nurses wish him a happy birthday when his wake up tea and snack. He picks through the food, not very hungry, and gets dressed when they tell him too. Jiang Cheng comes to pick him up, scowling even when Wei Wuxian smiles at him and throws his arm around his shoulder.
They’re greeted by Lan Wangji when they arrive home. Emotions spill over a little when the small surprise party is revealed—Jiang Yanli made her soup and cake and they take silly photos using a clunky instant camera that Wei Wuxian later hangs up on his wall.
—
Wei Wuxian takes a three hour nap—and when it’s clear he isn’t coming down to dinner by himself, Jiang Cheng heaves himself up with a sigh before barging into Wei Wuxian's unlocked room. He’s about to say something when something makes him stop and really look at him. Wei Wuxian is lying in his bed, half out of the covers like he was attempting to get up, picking at his own face with bruised fingertips.
Jiang Cheng tells him to stop it, knock it off and come eat. He walks up to the bed to grab Wei Wuxian’s arm when he doesn’t and pauses at what he sees—the full length of his left arm ready picked to shreds; purple, bloody and already staining the sheets. With a shocked cry, Jiang Cheng grabs Wei Wuxian’s hand, still posed in a plucking position, and throws it away from his body as if it wasn’t attached. But it is, so it just flings to the side. Wei Wuxian’s gaze follows it listlessly, but in the next blink he’s looking up at Jiang Cheng, brows furrowed like he’s angry. Wei Wuxian opens his mouth and Jiang Cheng prepares himself, but, “Where am I?” Wei Wuxian asks, and Jiang Cheng can’t find himself to be angry.
Just as he’s managed to get Wei Wuxian to sit up in bed, his eyes widened at what he’s done to himself, Jiang Yanli appears in the doorway with a soft gasp. She looks over Wei Wuxian's shoulder while fussing over him at Jiang Cheng, but he just shrugs—'I found him like that'. Wei Wuxian is quiet, spooked, as they all treat and bandage his wounds.
They haven’t healed by the time Lan Wangji visits again, because Wei Wuxian keeps picking at them and thensome.
—
“What if I never get ‘well’, Lan Zhan?!” Wei Wuxian sounds mildly hysterical—but by now, they’ve had this kind of conversation before. Lan Wangji wants to put his hands around him, reassure him, but he’s across the room; his own hands clutching, scratching at his scalp.
“Wh-what if I-I’m stuck like this my entire life?” Lan Wangji's heart breaks hearing Wei Wuxian’s voice tremble. Wei Wuxian has already torn up several tissues, and he picks one up, lifting it to his face as he turns away from Lan Wangji. His eyes are bloodshot; the lids turning purple, sore and irritated.
Lan Wangji stands from Wei Wuxian’s bed, then, and crosses the room. Wei Wuxian is already sobbing by the time he takes his wrist and makes Wei Wuxian face him.
“You don’t need a doctor to sign off on paper about your health in this regard, Wei Ying. There will be days better than the last. It will get better.”
Wei Wuxian tries to snatch his hand away, huffing. “Yea,” he snaps. “Look how good my last ‘better’ day left me.”
He’d felt okay in the mid-morning, and they’d gone out for a date by the afternoon. They met up on the train, but accidentally exited from the wrong exit of the station and Wei Wuxian struggled up the incline of the road, falling behind Lan Wangji several times. He'd fallen asleep for a moment, tucked into the corner booth of a cafe. Lan Wangji had called a ride service—they’re not allowed to fly their swords in broad daylight unless there’s an emergency—after Wei Wuxian’s legs had buckled under him as they’d made their way home. He’d spent the night, fussing over Wei Wuxian as he became bedridden. The only way to stop him from trying to give Wei Wuxian spiritual energy was to force him to notice how it wouldn’t stay inside him.
Wei Wuxian has barely left his room since then.
“Wei Ying—“
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian sobs quietly. “my golden core is practically unusable now. I’m not—“ He hiccups. “I’m not going to recover from this. You should just leave me and,” Wei Wuxian interrupts himself to inhale sharply. “Yea. You should leave me, Lan Zhan. I'm just bringing you down. I can't, I can't be the one who does that to you. You know that. You know.”
“No, Wei Ying. Listen to me,” Lan Wangji takes a shaky breath and Wei Wuxian’s heart breaks. He’s caused this. “I need you to listen to me. You can recover—yes, you can, don’t shake your head—and things will improve. I will be with you every step of the way, whether you want me to or not.” Lan Wangji pauses and sighs, tries to tangle their fingers together—Wei Wuxian’s are still covered in bandages. “Wei Ying. You’re not bringing me down and I will never give up on you.”
“You say that now, but—“
“Yes, I am saying it now!” Lan Wangji raises his voice, which makes Wei Wuxian quiet immediately. “and I will continue to say it until you listen to me.” Lan Wangji sighs. “Wei Ying, please.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whines, wanting to stop this. “Okay, okay, you’re right, you’re—“
“What…” Lan Wangji looks at him, hesitant. It’s unlike him, even more so after how he was just speaking. “What do you think about Dual Cultivation?”
What?
“It’s when—“
“Uh, Lan Zhan, I know. I-I know what, what that is. I…” Wei Wuxian can’t look directly into Lan Wangji’s—his boyfriend’s, for fucks sake—eyes as his face flushes.
Lan Wangji wants to have sex with him? Hah, of course he would. Hello? Earth to Wei Wuxian, did you not just confirm to yourself this man is your boyfriend? He hasn’t even really thought about sex; excluding the dreams—(nightmares, they’re nightmares)—or the few times he’d unsatisfyingly jerked off, unable to get properly hard, when he felt particularly lonely and unwanted.
He pushes his hair back from his face with a sigh, moving back to slump onto his bed. “Cultivation doesn’t help with this, Lan Zhan. I’ve tried— Fuck, do you know how many healers have barged through the gates here since news spread? It doesn’t… It won’t… Um, ah, fuck.”
Wei Wuxian smacks his lips in thought and looks up at Lan Wangji, and Lan Wangji sees a broken man. He’s exhausted, his brain fog starting to take over. He’s lost his train of thought. He’s done. Lan Wangji watches his face as his eyes lose their shine and resigns to helping him prepare for bed, reflecting on whatever the hell that was. This time was worse than the last.
There’s fresh blood under his fingernails, with matching lines across his scalp.
(Wei Wuxian jerks awake after sleeping for a few hours. He pushes himself up and his eyes meet Lan Wangji’s with surprising clarity. His voice is hoarse when he says, “Lan Zhan, I’m—“ he heaves, chest rocking. “Gonna be sick.”
Lan Wangji feels his eyes widen before he’s scrambling for a container—“Under the bed,” Wei Wuxian mutters before he claps a hand over his own mouth. There’s an old but cleaned plastic icecream tub, which he lifts out. Then he watches Wei Wucian retch for several minutes. He can see the path his hand has made rubbing Wei Wuxian's back over his clothes, can feel the old whipping scars from Zidian under it. Wei Wuxian shivers before he pushes the tub away and flops back down to the pillows. Lan Wangji washes it—Wei Wuxian had only coughed up some saliva into it—and puts it somewhere out of the way but easier to reach. Wei Wuxian is dead-to-the-world asleep and doesn’t wake again.
It’s hard to leave Wei Wuxian’s side afterwards, in the early hours of the morning, but he eventually does.)
—
Being intimate with Wei Wuxian isn't what he expects, even now with evidence of their love painted on his skin.
Lan Wangji watches Wei Wuxian bathe—and Wei Wuxian watches him in turn, especially when he rubs soap into where Lan Wangji’s cum has dried on him, and when he reaches down and behind to clean his hole. There’s a spark of teasing, of challenge, in his eyes that Lan Wangji hasn’t seen in so long.
When Wei Wuxian rises from the bath, glistening wet and marked by Lan Wangji’s hands around his thighs, his cock bobs half hard between his legs. He sinks to his knees before Lan Wangji, half wrapped up in a soft towel, and takes him into his mouth easily. Lan Wangji sinks his hand into Wei Wuxian's damp hair and doesn’t last long.
—
Lan Wangji’s fucking him, so hard and fast that Wei Wuxian's body is creeping up the bed. He’s so— so big, inside Wei Wuxian, he’s hitting spots he shouldn’t be able to reach. It hurts.
It feels so, so good. Don’t stop, don’t,
Stop.
Lan Wangji grins down at him, his face split open in pleasure. It looks weird, twisted like what he’s doing to Wei Wuxian’s insides.
Stop, don’t,
Lan Wangji’s grip on his hips, waist, is biting and cruel. It’s painful; already fingertip shaped bruises forming on softer skin. He pulls Wei Wuxian flush against his groin and grinds deeps into him. He’s hard, thick, pulsing,,
A hand on his waist disappears and plunges into his lower abdomen. Wei Wuxian is crying for real now. Lan Wangji wraps his hand delicately around his struggling golden core. Wei Wuxian hiccups, then Lan Wangji closes his fist, squeezing.
No, not— not again.
They both come, Lan Wangji slamming himself inside as far as he can go, while Wei Wuxian thrusts his chest up and head back. His body jerks and thrashes around. Lan Wangji won't let go.
Wei Wuxian screams when Lan Wangji rips his fist out of him, throwing what’s inside at the wall. It lands with a sickening spatter. Wei Wuxian sobs, cum and blood decorate his lower half.
He knows he’s asleep, but he can’t wake up.
Why does he keep having this nightmare?
—
It takes him way too long to realise that that feeling of being watched, something he can’t scratch off, the thing that he sees in his nightmares is actually resentful energy. He remembers his silly little thoughts of harnessing it for good from his youth and, in turn, thinks about his dying golden core.
When he leaves Lotus Pier—slow, but without telling anyone—the resentful energy follows him, showing itself now its been noticed for what it truly is. It stops and goes when he does. Then, when he stops for the last time and lets down all his barriers, it makes its attack, screeching as it forces its way into him—only to find it being welcomed and embraced. As it floods into his meridians and down into his lower dantian, he almost feels the little of what's left of his ailing golden core give up. Is that blood or tears trickling down his face?
He heaves out a sigh.
He feels full.