[ much has stirred between them both, between them all. like silt kicked from the bottom, like the warm of ponds in spring— jiang cheng does not obscure, as much as it is he hides from lan wangji, wei wuxian. like fish who swim between the shadows of reeds, that school beneath the duckweed— jiang cheng too has been left sensitive to disturbance, the rush of their affections. and like this, he continues to be still as jiang cheng avoid his eyes, his hands. like this, lan wangji lets him take from him as he wants. he does not chase after the familiarity of jiang cheng's palm against his own. he does not chase anything at all.
instead, lan wangji waits. he waits for jiang cheng to take sips of what it is he has poured. he waits for jiang cheng to pay him further mind. and still, lan wangji's dark brows knit in the smallest increments. his lips, at the corners, are soft in their downturn.
he knows. he knows that jiang cheng, for all that he is, struggles in presence of him. ]
Jiang Wanyin, [ he says finally and at length. should lan wangji had been another, perhaps it is more that would come. but, lan wangji has always found his words at times short. as though caught in drought, his tongue pressed against his teeth in hope of sound, lan wangji only instead lifts his pale eyes to him.
there is something that bothers him, perhaps. there is something more he wishes to tell jiang cheng, should he only invite it. and still, lan wangji does not push the boundary of jiang cheng's uncertainty. he does not drag sentiments across the line, crowd him into smaller spaces. he does not contain with his body, his words, the way his fingers curve uncertain and unsure toward his palms. he accepts only and again what it is jiang cheng will afford. it matters little, what it is that lan wangji wants.
no subject
instead, lan wangji waits. he waits for jiang cheng to take sips of what it is he has poured. he waits for jiang cheng to pay him further mind. and still, lan wangji's dark brows knit in the smallest increments. his lips, at the corners, are soft in their downturn.
he knows. he knows that jiang cheng, for all that he is, struggles in presence of him. ]
Jiang Wanyin, [ he says finally and at length. should lan wangji had been another, perhaps it is more that would come. but, lan wangji has always found his words at times short. as though caught in drought, his tongue pressed against his teeth in hope of sound, lan wangji only instead lifts his pale eyes to him.
there is something that bothers him, perhaps. there is something more he wishes to tell jiang cheng, should he only invite it. and still, lan wangji does not push the boundary of jiang cheng's uncertainty. he does not drag sentiments across the line, crowd him into smaller spaces. he does not contain with his body, his words, the way his fingers curve uncertain and unsure toward his palms. he accepts only and again what it is jiang cheng will afford. it matters little, what it is that lan wangji wants.
it always has, in this way. ]