Chapter Text
Six Months Later
Sizhui had never had much difficulty with anxiety, but ever since Jingyi had been kidnapped, there had been symptoms that were not going away on their own. He was terrified of leaving Jingyi alone, he jumped at the slightest noise, startled at the slightest touch. He would scour the house three times before going to bed, triple checking the security system, and then checking everything again. Thus, Hanguang Jun had recommended that Sizhui seek help outside of his family, someone unbiased who he would feel no guilt confiding in, someone he wouldn’t be afraid of burdening.
It had taken some time for Sizhui to accept that he needed help. Why should he need help and comfort when he wasn’t the one who was hurt? He hadn’t been the one who was starved and beaten, he hadn’t been used as blackmail against his loved ones. It was supposed to be him, but his incredible, selfless, blindingly brilliant, most cherished companion, had sacrificed himself for Sizhui. He didn’t think he deserved help when Jingyi was the one who had suffered.
“Sizhui has suffered too,” Hanguang Jun had spoken plainly, and emphatically.
So Sizhui began therapy, and had begun allowing himself to heal. What started out as what he thought would be a way to better support Jingyi was starting to help him too. He still got nervous when he didn’t see Jingyi for a while, or at night when anything could remind him of the night Jingyi was taken, but he was progressing. He no longer panicked every time Jingyi left the room, he started sleeping more solidly, and even began eating regularly again. It wasn’t the same as before, and it might never be again, but little by little, it was getting better. He was getting better.
“Sizhui!” his fiance’s voice called out to him as he stepped out of the medical building and into the sunlight.
Sizhui looked up, to see Jingyi, hands full with brown paper bag, presumably carrying some of Sizhui’s father’s favorite alcohol, and some fresh vegetables. Tonight was a special occasion, and though Hanguang Jun insisted that his husband always had the best of anything he could ever want, he and Wei Ying had been working to curb the latter’s drinking habits at least a little. After all, livers were hard to come by.
“Yeah, maybe with that attitude,” Wei Ying had argued, before poutily relenting.
Six months ago, Jingyi didn’t leave the house except for appointments, dread and fear encompassing him. Now, he was running errands and surprising Sizhui outside of his therapist’s office, a grin on his face, and life in his eyes.
Jingyi could never help the self described dumb smile that lit up his face whenever he saw the outrageously beautiful man he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Lan Sizhui walked briskly toward him, the waning sunlight outlining his soft features, making him almost luminescent, like a halo was surrounding his entire body. He wanted to marry Lan Sizhui right then and there, then marry him again on their wedding day, and marry him a third time during and after their honeymoon, and again, and again, and again, until the end of time.
When Sizhui was close enough, Jingyi turned his cheek expectantly, quietly demanding affection. Sizhui smiled and obliged, kissing Jingyi lightly on the nose, rather than the cheek. Jingyi could have melted if not for the groceries he was holding.
“Did you know that Senior Wei isn’t allowed in the liquor store anymore?” Jingyi asked as they began walking. “It must have been something particularly awful to have warranted banning their most lucrative customer… Even the cashier didn’t know, or at least she wouldn’t tell me. Ah, that’s so embarrassing for us…”
Sizhui listened to Jingyi talk, enraptured by the nonsense spilling out of his mouth. If it had been anyone else, Sizhui would have politely reminded them that gossiping was wrong and not allowed their household, but as long as it was Jingyi, he could say anything and Sizhui would never want to stop listening.
It was late in the evening when their guests arrived for dinner. It was a small party, only the closest friends invited. On one side sat Hanguang Jun and Senior Wei, another sat Jingyi and Sizhui, the third sat Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen, and the fourth sat Zewu Jun and Jiang Wanyin. Hanguang Jun had been against inviting Jiang Wanyin, but his brother was adamant that Jiang Wanyin would be more than civil, and had reminded Wagnji that his boyfriend been on relatively good terms with Wei Wuxian in recent months, so there was nothing to worry about. Besides, Sizhui was technically Jiang Wanyin’s nephew, so oughtn’t he be there for his engagement announcement?
In the end, there was only a little shouting, only a little food was thrown, and Jiang Wanyin was only partially responsible it. Jin Ling was embarrassed of both of his uncles, and Zizhen was confused. However, Lan Xichen had mediated mutual apologies and forgiveness from both Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian, which was only slightly more embarrassing for Jin Ling than the fight in the first place.
After their guests left, and it was just the four of them, they all retreated into the living room, enjoying the quiet after dinner. Jingyi laid his head in Sizhui’s lap, playing with the new ring on Sizhui’s hand, as Sizhui read aloud softly to him from one of several books he was reading currently. Wei Ying worked on a new design for his artwork, sprawling his supplies over the floor and absently leaning on his husband as Lan Zhan graded papers.
It was quiet and comfortable, and Jingyi was filled with more blissful contentment than he previously thought possible.
As Jingyi started yawning, Sizhui put his book down and took Jingyi’s hand into his own, pressing tender kisses onto each of his fingers, then his palm, and then the ever present scars around his wrists.
“Why do you do that?” Jingyi had asked, when Sizhui first started kissing the scars on his wrists in the morning. He didn’t mind, he loved when Sizhui kissed him. But out of all the places, why the ugliest part of him?
They were laying in bed, wrapped around each other, lazily ignoring the rising sun, preferring to breathe and exist in unison.
“I love every part of you, Jingyi. I love your eyes,” he placed a kiss at Jingyi’s temple.
“I love your mind,” he kissed his crown.
“I love your mouth,” he kissed the corner of his lips.
“I love your body,” he kissed the center of Jingyi’s chest.
“I love your hands,” he kissed each of his fingers, the back of his hands, and then the palms.
“And I love your wrists,” he kissed Jingyi’s wrists.
Those scars would be there forever, Jingyi knew, but as time passed they came to be not as a reminder of how close he had been to losing everything, how close he had been to death and despair, but rather as a sign of how precious life was, how precious all of this was.
How precious Sizhui was.
Jingyi is also precious.