Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sunlight filters through the lavishly sculpted windowsill, spilling across the yellowed pages like a spill of gold.  The sparks of white dust dance like faeries in the golden light, flitting in front of Jiang Cheng’s gaze as he opens yet another message, his sigh disrupting the gentle fluttering of the dust and scattering them from view.  Morning has risen, and Jiang Cheng before it, though it's not like he'd gone to sleep anyway.

He sighs again, sitting up straighter and rolling his neck, bones creaking in protest from his long vigil.  The letters mostly consist of complaints from other sects and other frivolity, or something of that sort, and the process of sifting through the massive amounts of paper is nearly boring him to tears.  Alas, the sacrifices of a sect leader.

The gentle murmur of movement from outside of his work room has kicked up with the arrival of sunlight, disciples and masters and any others walking with more energy.  The world around him is waking up, blooming like a flower in spring, while he sits in this godforsaken room doing paperwork.  Fun.  

Jiang Chen closes his eyes and leans back from the table, closing his eyes as he strains a particularly stiff muscle.  It burns, a bit unpleasantly, and he lets out a satisfied huff of air once it works itself out.  He leans back forward.

“What do you want.”  He says flatly.

A quiet chuckle echoes through the room, Wei Wuxian stepping forward from his space in the doorframe.  “I thought I snuck up on you,” his Shi-Xiong pouts, frown marred by the gentle upturn of his lips, “I was very quiet!”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.  Quiet, sure, but he’s spent years listening to Wei Wuxian’s footsteps.  His ears had become accustomed to the sound of soft padding symbolizing his retreat, always two steps out of sight, of reach.  He does not note this.

“Quiet my ass, you sounded like several tortured spirits attempting to raid a chicken coup.”  He says instead, placing another… creatively worded letter aside with a grimace.  Wei Wuxian laughs, eyes upturned into little half-crescents, achingly similar even with the foreign face.

“Jiang Cheng ah~,” He sighs, faux disappointment rife within his tone, “You’re wasting perfectly good sunlight!  Why must you sit in this room all grumpy-like and wither away?”

“Who’s withering?” Jiang Cheng fires back, “I’ve got work to finish, so scram.”  And, fully intending for that to be the end of the conversation, he turns back to his papers and pretends that Wei Wuxian does not exist.  He knows how this game will end.

Wei Wuxian, ever predictable, does not leave him alone.  “Jiang Cheng~” He whines jokingly, crossing the room to tug at his arm.  “Come on, the paper work can wait!  That or you can just hand it off to your head cultivator or something.”

“ You’re my head cultivator.”  Jiang Cheng reminds him, because Wei Wuxian’s memory is a literal sieve, “are you volunteering?  Because I can definitely just leave you to it.”  

Wei Wuxian’s face scrunches up in mild disgust.  “Uh, no.”  He says, and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes as he continues.  “You know what I meant!”  He places his hands on his hips, looking so much like a stubborn teen that Jiang Cheng can’t help the amusement that bubbles up in his chest.  No matter how old he grows, Wei Wuxian will always be 3, it seems.

The amusement is bitter, though, tastes sour.  There is too much between them for things to ever be as easy as they were in their childhood, liters of blood pushing them apart.  Thick and heavy on his legs.  Burning in his core.

“I’m sect leader, Wei Wuxian.”  He states dryly, just a little bit of the bitter taste coloring his words, “I can’t just ‘hand off’ my work.”  Not to mention, an outing with his former older sibling?  Awkward as hell.

Especially since he stabbed him.  In the chest.  Probably almost killing him.

He winces internally as Wei Wuxian fixes him with a searching stare.  “What?”  Snapping, Jiang Cheng folds his arms over his chest and glares back, feeling the slightest bit hurt when Wei Wuxian takes a little step back.  The chasm between them seems to widen, ever so slightly.  He doesn’t know if it will ever heal.  

(Or how to even try )

Wei Wuxian steps back forwards, as if realizing his mistake.  “Don’t ‘what’ me.”  He snarks back, mimicking Jiang Cheng’s crossed armed posture and moving to stand before where he sits.  “Sitting in here for hours on end is not good for you.”

Jiang Cheng almost scoffs at his hypocrisy.  Wei Wuxian?  Lecturing someone on healthy living habits?  It’s almost laughable, since he’s known to emerge from his study nearly a week after entering.  Face smeared with ink and eyes glassy, muttering a quiet “what day is it?” before passing the fuck out on the floor.

It was funny at first.  Now it’s not funny at all.

“Well, I don’t give a shit.”  Jiang Cheng turns his head away stubbornly, picking up another paper only to have it snatched from his hands.  “Hey-!”

Wei Wuxian is up and racing out of the room in an instant, tossing a “Catch me if you want it!” over his shoulder as he disappears from Jiang Cheng’s sight.  He’s left staring dumbly at the place where Wei Wuxian once was .

Agitation and indignation rise through his bones and heat like a fire underneath his skin.  A slight whisper in the back of his mind, of how dare he , how dare he act as if nothing had happened, like he hadn’t gone and ripped his heart out of his chest and died , and it makes no sense because; isn’t this what he wanted?

Isn’t this healing?

It’s a conflicting emotion.  On one hand, he could just continue reading the rest of the letters and wait for Wei Wuxian to bring back the letter on his own, or we could chase his older (younger?) brother and forgo any sense of peace that had lingered from the morning air.  Obviously, the more responsible option would be to continue with his work…

Fuck it.

Jiang Cheng rises from his seat, wincing at the ache in his knees, and chases after the god-awful brother of his.

His disciples leap out of his path, parting like water beneath the bow of a boat as he streaks down the hallway.  He can barely hear his own footsteps over the clamor of life, the rushing of air past his ears, and as he tears towards the end of the hall he can just barely see the tail-tip of Wei Wuxian’s ponytail flick out of view.  He may be smiling.

They weave throughout lotus pier, Wei Wuxian alway just within sight and Jiang Cheng always a couple steps away, just as it had always been.  Though this time it feels less like being left behind.  It feels… almost good.  Fun.

“Get back here you fucking fuck!”  He screams, though it’s quite far from angry, giddy excitement bubbling up in his chest and threatening to overflow.  “I’ll flay you alive!”

Wei Wuxian lets out a short laugh, speeding up and leaping over another poor merchant of some sort.  Jiang Cheng really shouldn’t be encouraging this behavior, since he's a sect leader, and at this point he should end this silly chase and return to work.

He leaps over the same merchant, screaming profanities with an almost grin.

Soon enough, Wei Wuxian reaches the end of the dock, and as Jiang Cheng approaches he whirls around with a nervous smile.  The look slowly morphs to horror as Jiang Cheng refuses to slow down, and the satisfaction in his chest when Wei Wuxian yelps in terror as he barrels into him and knocks him into the water is deeply gratifying.

But now they’re both wet.  

“What was that for!”  Wei Wuxian shrieks, a twinkle in his eye as the scream tapers off into a laugh, “You-you-“  He cuts off again, wheezing into the clear water and shaking his head.  The lake ripples around them, tiny waves of new beginnings branching out into the distance, clear and rocky and ever-flowing.

It’s almost nice.

“Haha.”  Jiang Cheng says drily, though he can’t help the upward twitching of his lips, “Now give me my damn paper.”

Wei Wuxian stops laughing.  He looks down, and Jiang Cheng follows his gaze to the water below.  His letter lays in tatters, melted into the water and dissolved into bits and unreadable pieces.

“Oh shit.”

Both of them say it at once, reaching out to prod at the unusable strips of waterlogged paper.  They spiral away and break apart further, ebbing out with the waves into the distance.  Jiang Cheng has not yet read that letter.

Wei Wuxian looks so unbearably guilty.  “Shit, Jiang Cheng, I should’ve thrown the letter-“

“The fuck you apologizing for?”  Jiang Cheng cuts in, agitated and a little bit upset at the shame in Wei Wuxian’s eyes, “I tossed us in the damn lake, not you.  So shut your mouth and let’s get out before we both catch a cold.”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth hangs open for a moment, an indescribable expression on his face before it fixes into something vaguely happy.  “Is our honorable Sect leader ignoring the plaintive cries of another needy sect?”  He gasps, as if he himself were offended, hand upon his heart as if there was a wound placed upon his soul.  There is nothing short of drama oozing from the action, and with a sigh, Jiang Cheng fondly rolls his eyes and hauls them both out of the lake.

They walk back to the pavilion in relative silence.  Comfortable silence, even, catching strange yet discrete glances as they drag their sopping wet bodies through the busy streets of the Jiang Sect.  Wei Wuxian opens his mouth a couple times, only to close it with an anxious expression.  Jiang Cheng only wishes he would spit out his thoughts like he used to, like an ever flowing river, words as plentiful as fish in the sea.

“I really am sorry.”  Wei Wuxian says after a while, as they walk beside each other. Jiang Cheng does not look beside him, but he can almost see the regret hidden in his Shixiong’s eyes, a dim spark under the blanket of night.  It’s no longer about the letter. 

Perhaps it never was.

Jiang cheng says not a word for a breath.  The moment stretches on for eons.  Something hesitant and fearful crawls up his throat and into his mouth, sliding gently into the air like a bird healed from a broken wing.  “If you’re sorry,” he finally starts, soft and nervous, “then you’ll stay to make it better.”

Wei Wuxian lets out a small sigh.  A small smile, a casual yet meaningful glance. 

“Of course.”

Jiang Cheng feels the crushing weight lift from his ribs, drawing in his first breath of painless air with full lungs.  He lets out a snort, knocking his shoulder against Wei Ying’s with a mischievous grin and steering him in a new direction.  “Y’know, I think those letters can wait. There’s this new place I’ve been meaning to try…”

Two sets of steps, moving forward.  Side by side at last.