he knows it. knows, it as well as he knows the motives that wei wuxian unfurls before their eyes — presses them as dangerous and alluring as a blade against one's side. and still, there is a twinge of some soft rejection that settles in his gut. no matter how it is fails to thrive, it had existed from the start. but, lan wangji is not as though a wilting thing. he has died and lived and died. he has suffered losses more severe. and he has suffered isolation and misunderstanding worse than however it is tomoe perceives him now.
he had always been an untouchable thing, people had said. as unapproachable as he was beautiful, but these comments mattered little to him. for, in the end, had he not once too wished to be left to his own? he had not once too wished only to study, to live within his quiet?
disdain is familiar, no less familiar than avoidance. and lan wangji thinks himself fine to sweep such interaction aside, uncaring — ]
I have never thought Jiang Cheng incapable. [ — but, this is what tumbles easy from his mouth. it is clear and crisp and even, without ounce of hesitation. and suddenly, it is the pale of his eyes that scan tomoe's face. and no matter how gentle it is that wei wuxian cups his profile, there is something remote in the seeming impassivity that sits still at corner of his lips, the dark edges of his brows. there is something hard, as though tomoe's physicality with wei wuxian is detestable by itself. and to him, it is.
but, lan wangji has nothing to apologize for. lan wangji, who makes habit of his manners, knows he does not. he will not apologize for wishing to provide less trouble for someone he loves, as much less deny wei wuxian the wish to keep him still within his touch.
a touch, that he in part leans into. softens into, as his gaze rounds warmer — shifts back to wei wuxian. ]
no subject
he knows it. knows, it as well as he knows the motives that wei wuxian unfurls before their eyes — presses them as dangerous and alluring as a blade against one's side. and still, there is a twinge of some soft rejection that settles in his gut. no matter how it is fails to thrive, it had existed from the start. but, lan wangji is not as though a wilting thing. he has died and lived and died. he has suffered losses more severe. and he has suffered isolation and misunderstanding worse than however it is tomoe perceives him now.
he had always been an untouchable thing, people had said. as unapproachable as he was beautiful, but these comments mattered little to him. for, in the end, had he not once too wished to be left to his own? he had not once too wished only to study, to live within his quiet?
disdain is familiar, no less familiar than avoidance. and lan wangji thinks himself fine to sweep such interaction aside, uncaring — ]
I have never thought Jiang Cheng incapable. [ — but, this is what tumbles easy from his mouth. it is clear and crisp and even, without ounce of hesitation. and suddenly, it is the pale of his eyes that scan tomoe's face. and no matter how gentle it is that wei wuxian cups his profile, there is something remote in the seeming impassivity that sits still at corner of his lips, the dark edges of his brows. there is something hard, as though tomoe's physicality with wei wuxian is detestable by itself. and to him, it is.
but, lan wangji has nothing to apologize for. lan wangji, who makes habit of his manners, knows he does not. he will not apologize for wishing to provide less trouble for someone he loves, as much less deny wei wuxian the wish to keep him still within his touch.
a touch, that he in part leans into. softens into, as his gaze rounds warmer — shifts back to wei wuxian. ]