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Wei Wuxian likes to think that he’s very good at moving on, as opposite of his peers. He’s not big on holding grudges, he’s bad at being mad, he’s got terrible memory for that. So all in all, he tends to let go easily enough for it to make his life easier. What’s the point in going round and round about everything that’s ever happened? What’s the point in it if he cannot change anything? If he still got another chance at life, undeservedly so, to be all the happy he never got to be before?
As he wakes up every day next to the love of his life, the person that’s loved him more than anyone ever; as he gets pampered, spoiled, enjoying a life of peace and quiet, if that’s what he wants, that is, and isn’t it amazing that he gets to choose if he wants to worry about something or just stay in bed and let someone else deal with it? He would have never had that choice in his past life. He’s not even sure if he’d let himself choose not to worry before, because he had been conditioned to always worry, always find solutions, always make sacrifices (Lan Zhan has worked very hard in helping him understand that, even if he still doesn’t really believe it sometimes). Cause that was it, right? Back then nobody made anyone make any of these choices, they were all victims of the circumstances in the end. Even if the price some of them had to pay for that was significantly greater than the others.
And he does not dwell, he really doesn’t. But not thinking about it doesn’t make the hurt go away. He does not dwell but he has nightmares, and sometimes they’re so, so vivid, he wakes up and he’s outside of the Jingshi, trying to run away heavens know where because there’s no escape, his face wet with tears and sweat. He doesn’t really remember what the nightmares are about, but there’s no need because the bile coming up his throat and making him barf all over the pretty gardens of their home makes him feel miserable enough.
It’s okay though. Lan Zhan is always there to catch him, holding him within his strong arms, making him feel safe and sound against his chest, surrounded by that nice scent of his, until the shaking is just a trembling and his knees give out.
He does not dwell, but sometimes food tastes like ash and he cannot really bring himself to have even a bite when he’s alone. That in itself would be punishment enough, because eating is the second-best thing in life right after sex. Maybe even up to par with it. And he always loved food, he always found joy and comfort in it. His shijie’s soups and rices were the joy in his life back when he was a kid, back when all he had to worry about was Madam Yu’s whip on his back when he misbehaved.
He thinks he sometimes can taste her Lotus Pork Rib soup in his tongue, the very, very few nights in which he can have a nice dream that doesn’t end with the memory of the last time he saw her, the moment she died. And he thinks those nights are even worse than the nightmares, a lot crueler, a lot more painful. Those nights he can’t help the way the tears come out like rivers of regret and sorrow, he can’t stop the sobs that shackle him to his core. He trembles and chokes on his spit, he suddenly forgets how to breathe, his lungs fill in with air he doesn’t know how to let go and when he does he just can’t bring it back in. Sometimes he just stands there, not breathing yet sobbing at the same time, desperate for something, anything that can wake him up even if he’s not even asleep. Sometimes he wants to yell but that’s not possible for it’s forbidden to make noise in the Cloud Recesses, so he runs and runs and runs, chasing the moon, waiting for the sun to come up and scare his ghosts away.
Lan Zhan is always there, though, of course. And he wipes his tears away, and he rubs his back softly, he doesn’t yell at him for throwing up, he doesn’t ask questions. He runs away with him, he brings him back. He holds him tight, he helps him breathe. He brings him water to drink and he washes his muddy feet. And loves him, loves him more than what Wei Wuxian deserves, loves him more than Wei Wuxian can even understand because why? Why? Why is this beautiful man willing to go so far for him? Why did this man wait for him? Why does this man believe in him so much to be willing to throw everything away without so much as a second thought?
Because the worst part about it is not even how he feels like dying all over again sometimes, but how Lan Zhan is always there to witness, unable to help, how Wei Wuxian gasps for air, how he shakes himself awake at night barely holding back a scream, sometimes not being able to. It breaks his heart to see Lan Zhan’s beautiful eyes stained with concern, they should shine, ethereal and gorgeous like everything about him. He is truly too heavenly to be dragged through the dirt with Wei Wuxian, to be lowering himself to the depths of hell only for him, like Wei Wuxian is worth it.
He does not dwell, he swears he doesn’t, but he can’t stand his own reflection. He cannot look at the eyes of a stranger and be reminded how he is being loved in somebody else’s body as if he, himself, in his original life, had not deserved it. He feels like an ungrateful imbecile, it’s like doubting Lan Zhan’s love for him, his word when he says he’ll love him always in any shape, any life.
He knows it’s true.
But he can’t help it when that voice inside his head whispers that these hands that undo his beloved’s hair every night are not his hands. That the lips that are kissing his dear husband are not his lips. That the body being loved and cared for are nothing but a vessel, an imposter taking what is his, what was meant to be for him, what he longed so much before, never daring to even let himself wish for out loud.
That he cannot tell Lan Zhan about, that would break his heart. That is an insult to Lan Zhan’s devotion and faithfulness, he knows. But it haunts him anyways. And it terrifies him sometimes at night, what is he if not a ghost too? A thought brought back to life, costing the life of yet another person, adding tail to the list of his wrongdoings. It doesn’t matter if he had no hand in this, like most things that went wrong in his past life, like most things that are blamed on him. He may not have had opinion on this, but again, like with everything else, it is still a consequence of his actions one way or another, a consequence of his choices.
So he avoids bronze mirrors, he does not look at his reflection on the water. He does not look at his hands when he writes. He lets Mo Xuanwu’s hair grow the way his used to even though it is not as thick, and he guesses that’s at least a drop of water for his thirst because it makes it easier to handle, it flows airily from his high ponytail. He does not think about how much more difficult it is for him in Mo Xuanyu’s body to climb up on a horse, he does not think about how he runs out of breath so humiliatingly easy, he does not think about how he wants to hurt.
Heavens have mercy on him and how ungrateful he is, looking at the mouth of his horse.
Lan Zhan, bless him, is utterly unaware of Wei Wuxian’s ordeal. And It shall remain that way. His greedy self hoards all of his attention, all of his love. He feasts on it like a starving animal, he thrives in it. It gives him life, gives him purpose. Wei Wuxian loves him so much, so, so much that he is sometimes the only reason why he does not end it all, once and for all. He’s the only reason why Wei Wuxian has come to know what happiness actually is, what love actually is. He wants Lan Wangi to keep loving him, to keep looking at him the way he does, to talk to him the way he does. He wants to be the only one to see him smile, the only one to hear his soft huffs of laughter, to be the reason he does all of these things at all. And he knows it’s selfish, but the way he’s loved by Lan Wangji is a religious experience, to be held by him feels like everything is worth living.
And so he can often forget. Forget how he’s constantly hunted by memories, forget how he can’t sleep, forget how he can’t eat. He kneels before him night and day, worships the light that comes from his eyes and warms him up from the inside. He begs, he takes, he gives. Him, who might as well sit beside the gods in heavens and not look out of place at all. Him, his paradise and purpose. Him, who loves him so dearly that Wei Wuxian cannot believe it. He, who brings him up from hell and worships him back.
Him.
Only him.
His.