A tired man might wake; an exhausted man, tensed and keyed for the feeling
of dangers, of death come seeking, of thrilling bloodlust lapping at his
throat, does not stir for the arrival of his husband. Not for that
expectation, though it is strange, strange to be sleeping before Lan Zhan,
stranger not to wake when his room intrudes with life, but telling.
Exhaustion leaves his face thinned, leaves dark smudges under his eyes,
makes him paler I'm his husband's robes, because tonight they were, this
morning they are, imperfect inverted mirrors.
His leg twitches, foot knocks forward, a rabbit shivering electric in
sleep, recalling motion. Not hard, but a sudden shift, the prelude to a
monsters awakening, dark eyes slitting open, slurred moans crossing his
lips but refusing to form the murmured words his brain convinces him he's
said.
Strange, but familiar: not the man being at his feet, not the state he's
in, but those features, that face. Cataloging details, his eyes close
again, the furrow of his brow smoothing, a nonsense babble crossing lips he
licks.
He shifts, squirms, languidly lifts the edge of his blankets, exhausted
enough he never fully wakes, never questions what he should, only that of
course, it is Lan Zhan, and if his throat aches, if the dozens of bruises
he wears as badges acknowledging he lives still, they are inconsequential
to the presence of Lan Zhan, who must be here for the reason they always
find each other, except when cursed.
No, even then, his memory says, smoke and illusion as he drifts closer back
to sleep, one word forming in the susurrus of every lapping hush of the
ones that don't.
"Come."
No awareness of apologies or the stains off light across the dawning sky.
No knowledge of kicking as a dreaming thing, a creature caught in
nightmares, only relaxing some fraction now. Cavernous he makes the
blanket, still holding it open, a maw for Lan Zhan to be swallowed by, if
only he would.
This first morning, after this first night, exhaustion holds Wei Wuxian too
close for his untimely waking, and this, a child's plea in the night meet
with parental placation, he provides.
no subject
A tired man might wake; an exhausted man, tensed and keyed for the feeling of dangers, of death come seeking, of thrilling bloodlust lapping at his throat, does not stir for the arrival of his husband. Not for that expectation, though it is strange, strange to be sleeping before Lan Zhan, stranger not to wake when his room intrudes with life, but telling. Exhaustion leaves his face thinned, leaves dark smudges under his eyes, makes him paler I'm his husband's robes, because tonight they were, this morning they are, imperfect inverted mirrors.
His leg twitches, foot knocks forward, a rabbit shivering electric in sleep, recalling motion. Not hard, but a sudden shift, the prelude to a monsters awakening, dark eyes slitting open, slurred moans crossing his lips but refusing to form the murmured words his brain convinces him he's said.
Strange, but familiar: not the man being at his feet, not the state he's in, but those features, that face. Cataloging details, his eyes close again, the furrow of his brow smoothing, a nonsense babble crossing lips he licks.
He shifts, squirms, languidly lifts the edge of his blankets, exhausted enough he never fully wakes, never questions what he should, only that of course, it is Lan Zhan, and if his throat aches, if the dozens of bruises he wears as badges acknowledging he lives still, they are inconsequential to the presence of Lan Zhan, who must be here for the reason they always find each other, except when cursed.
No, even then, his memory says, smoke and illusion as he drifts closer back to sleep, one word forming in the susurrus of every lapping hush of the ones that don't.
"Come."
No awareness of apologies or the stains off light across the dawning sky. No knowledge of kicking as a dreaming thing, a creature caught in nightmares, only relaxing some fraction now. Cavernous he makes the blanket, still holding it open, a maw for Lan Zhan to be swallowed by, if only he would.
This first morning, after this first night, exhaustion holds Wei Wuxian too close for his untimely waking, and this, a child's plea in the night meet with parental placation, he provides.