[ the clothes are laid out to dry in the racks above, the small space that these people call home fill up quickly and soon as the light fails them - fading to dusk and darkness and taking the last of whatever lingering faintness of superficial warmth with it. he is careful to keep the distance between him and wei wuxian even then, bundled up in a blanket as he is.
in the darkness, the different breaths mingling in the air, it reminds jiang cheng of the old days of the campaign, oft forced to sleep rough and congregated in fear of ambush or in preparation of one, pressed back to back for warmth. it reminds him of even earlier, the home that used to be his, theirs, the room that used to be theirs, sharing secrets in the dark, laughing at whatever silly thing that wei wuxian managed to rope them into doing.
one of the boys - the younger, the older, he can't tell, but the shock of dark hair and big eyes and the sheer determination has jiang cheng at a loss, and he lets the boy press up against one side of him for warmth. there is a hollow feeling in his gut like hunger, like an ache, as he leans his head against the wall and watches the boy's head lolling onto his knees in sleep. the nape of his neck is pale, naked and fragile, with dark hair curled against the skin.
( dark hair against snow, skin as pale as the snow flutters with the motion, settling on his hair, his forehead. eyes like some calm water at night, still and dark. )
he isn't entirely awake, but he isn't entirely asleep either - somewhere in between, evening out his breaths almost out of age-old reflex as he is wont to do, as he's been taught to do; the golden core thrums, slightly off sync to the beat of his heart. ]
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in the darkness, the different breaths mingling in the air, it reminds jiang cheng of the old days of the campaign, oft forced to sleep rough and congregated in fear of ambush or in preparation of one, pressed back to back for warmth. it reminds him of even earlier, the home that used to be his, theirs, the room that used to be theirs, sharing secrets in the dark, laughing at whatever silly thing that wei wuxian managed to rope them into doing.
one of the boys - the younger, the older, he can't tell, but the shock of dark hair and big eyes and the sheer determination has jiang cheng at a loss, and he lets the boy press up against one side of him for warmth. there is a hollow feeling in his gut like hunger, like an ache, as he leans his head against the wall and watches the boy's head lolling onto his knees in sleep. the nape of his neck is pale, naked and fragile, with dark hair curled against the skin.
( dark hair against snow, skin as pale as the snow flutters with the motion, settling on his hair, his forehead. eyes like some calm water at night, still and dark. )
he isn't entirely awake, but he isn't entirely asleep either - somewhere in between, evening out his breaths almost out of age-old reflex as he is wont to do, as he's been taught to do; the golden core thrums, slightly off sync to the beat of his heart. ]