#and lwj will never stop being delighted that he's able to give wwx his full attention | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vespertineflora · 3 years

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For The Untamed FallFest: Remains. This is an AU where everything is the same except that Lan Wangji’s rabbits are Flemish Giants. This is some Lan Wangji & Lan Yuan family bonding with some introspection from lwj about losing wwx recently.

Title: how it was to feel alive Rating: Teen Summary: On Lan Wangji's first day out of the Jingshi in the months since his severe punishment, he takes Lan Yuan to go visit his rabbits. The trip doesn't go according to plan, but it ends up being the push Lan Wangji needs to move forward. (4k, lwj has feelings, hurt/comfort)

~~~

It was Lan Wangji’s first day out of the Jingshi in nearly six months.

The hand of the small boy, who was now Lan Yuan, was clutched firmly within his own, his other hand carrying a basket full of cabbage and yams, and the two of them were walking slowly along a trail of the back mountains. Though the skin on his back had finally stopped bleeding, the injuries beneath the flesh were far from done healing; the muscle had torn, the bones had bruised and cracked beneath the force of the discipline whip, and it would be many more months before Lan Wangji would know what it was like to live without the constant ache of his injuries, and maybe years before he returned to full strength. As it was, he could only walk slowly and for short distances--but lucky for him, it was the perfect pace to walk comfortably beside a toddler, whose tiny legs could only carry him so quickly to begin with.

Back inside the gates of the Cloud Recesses, Lan Xichen was covering for their absence. While Lan Wangji’s punishment did allow him to travel the back mountains, he was technically supposed to be in seclusion, which very much did not include allowing him to spend time with the boy he’d rescued from the Burial Mounds. Lan Xichen, however, had spent the last several months seeing that Lan Wangji’s seclusion was broken by both his own visits and by sneaking Lan Yuan into the Jingshi as often as he could.

Lan Wangji didn’t blame his brother for the punishment he’d received, though he suspected that Lan Xichen blamed himself for doing nothing to stop it. He’d concluded that this repeated, intentional breaking of his seclusion was Lan Xichen’s way of trying to apologize for something he had no place feeling guilty for in the first place--and though Lan Wangji didn’t think there was any need for it... he did appreciate it. The semi-regular visits from Lan Xichen and Lan Yuan were the only bright spots in the otherwise gloomy tapestry of his recent months.

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As Lan Wangji had slowly regained some mobility, Lan Xichen had suggested that Lan Wangji should consider taking a trip outdoors. At first, Lan Wangji couldn’t find the motivation within himself to venture out, couldn’t see the point in leaving the Jingshi when the world beyond it had proven itself cruel and thoughtless and willing to take and take and take until there was nothing left. After so many months spent lying listlessly in bed with nothing but the constant reminders of everything he’d let slip away from him, the world beyond the door of his room seemed too imposing, too harsh, and he’d perhaps talked himself too thoroughly into the idea of never leaving again, never facing a world that no longer held the warmth of a certain someone’s smile...

But Lan Xichen, with every ounce of care in his heart, had persisted. He had coaxed and encouraged him gently over the course of the last few weeks: It would be good for Lan Wangji to get some fresh air and sunlight, he’d said, and... perhaps there was somewhere specific in the back mountains that Lan Wangji would like to visit, somewhere that might bring him a little comfort, somewhere or some thing he might like to show A-Yuan?

The reminder of his colony of rabbits was far from a subtle one, but it struck up a sudden longing in Lan Wangji’s chest. Lan Xichen had been caring for his rabbits in the past few months that Lan Wangji hadn’t been able to, and Lan Wangji’s thoughts had been too heavy and consuming to let him think of anything that might bring him some relief, but once Lan Xichen had mentioned it... Lan Wangji had suddenly found himself wanting something, for the first time in many months.

So Lan Xichen had made sure that no one would ask after him or Lan Yuan, had helped them get, unseen, to the path beyond the gates, and had watched them go with an encouraging smile on their short walk towards the grassy knoll where Lan Wangji’s rabbits most frequently congregated.

Lan Yuan hadn’t asked where they were going. When Lan Wangji had offered him his hand, he’d taken it politely and they started walking together in comfortable silence. Lan Yuan’s eyes were large and observant, interestedly taking in their surroundings, darting around to the birds that hopped from tree to tree or following the movements of leaves in the wind as Lan Wangji couldn’t help but watch him in turn. For as dark as the world had felt in the days since the awful tragedy at Nightless City, there was something... restorative about watching Lan Yuan, who had forgotten his tragedy, and who took in the world with a hope and wonder that was beyond Lan Wangji’s grasp on his sweet young face.

When the herd of rabbits finally came into view ahead on the trail... Lan Wangji saw the delight that brightened in Lan Yuan’s eyes, felt his hand tugging gently on his own as his steps tried to hurry down the path and into the grass where the rabbits were huddled, munching on grass or cuddling close to one another as they basked in the warm sun.

“Ji-xiong,” Lan Yuan said breathlessly, as they approached the edge of the clearing, “these are your rabbits?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji confirmed quietly. Someday, he’d have to correct how Lan Yuan addressed him... but for now, the name was the only bit of memory that seemed to have lingered after the awful fever the boy had been suffering through when Lan Wangji found him, and it was too heart-achingly familiar, too strong of a reminder of the only other person who’d dared to address him that way for Lan Wangji to correct Lan Yuan just yet.

Lan Wangji led Lan Yuan into the grass, migrating towards the center of the herd to let the rabbits approach them as they pleased, and finally let go of Lan Yuan’s hand so that he could break a large leaf off of the cabbage to hand to him.

Without needing instruction, as Lan Yuan seemed to be a bright little boy, he knelt down in the grass and held the leaf out towards one of the large white rabbits. It immediately hopped closer to him and began munching away on the leafy green, leaving Lan Yuan gasping with delight to watch the rabbit’s nose wiggling as it munched eagerly on the offered food.

“May I pet them?” Lan Yuan asked, gaze fixated on the hungry rabbit.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji replied, then reminded him, “Be gentle.”

The words might as well not be necessary as Lan Wangji had yet to see Lan Yuan be anything but gentle, but he couldn’t help the reminder. His rabbits were sweet and mostly docile... but he remembered the day Wei Wuxian had first dragged the bunnies into the library to show them off, and remembered how his rough handling of them had earned Wei Wuxian a swift bite that led him to threatening to turn the poor things into a roast. The wound had been deep and had healed quickly, but Lan Yuan getting bitten (or his rabbits getting scared or agitated) was the last thing Lan Wangji wanted.

Obediently, Lan Yuan reached forward to very carefully brush his fingertips over the rabbit’s head, which caused the rabbit to shuffle closer than before, encouraging the contact as it continued to nibble its way along the cabbage leaf.

For a few minutes, all Lan Wangji did was pass cabbage leaves down to Lan Yuan, letting the rabbits approach him at their own pace to receive both food and Lan Yuan’s carefully dealt out affection. Lan Yuan regarded each one with care and enchantment, the joy on his face only growing with each passing moment, particularly as more and more of the large rabbits started to surround him, pressing up against his legs and seeking out Lan Yuan’s food and attention.

Watching the scene, Lan Wangji’s heart felt... light, lighter than it had felt in months. He took a breath of the fresh air, felt it pulling into his lungs, and the weight that had been resting so heavily on his chest... well, it wasn’t gone, but it was lessened for the moment. His eyes fixed on Lan Yuan, he’d almost forgotten how easy it was supposed to be to just breathe.

When he was satisfied at seeing Lan Yuan’s interactions with the rabbits, he passed him several leaves at once, then turned to venture a short distance out to the more skittish rabbits, the ones who had decided not to approach the strange new boy. His eyes glanced back to Lan Yuan in between each rabbit he fed, and each time, Lan Yuan was sitting there as contentedly as always, smiling and giggling quietly, holding the extra cabbage leaves to his chest as he held one out at a time to feed the rabbits gathered around him.

Lan Wangji let out a soft exhale, then crouched down himself to feed what were now his two oldest rabbits, the two that Wei Wuxian himself had brought to him as bunnies. As usual, the two of them were cuddled together, the black one half-draped over the white one, though as they saw him approach, their ears perked up. He set one of the yams down between them, and his heart ached faintly in his chest as he reached out to stroke his hand slowly over their fur, taking more comfort than he could have realized from the soft texture of it against his fingertips. Together, the two of them began to nibble at the offering, and Lan Wangji found himself transfixed, for just a moment, by their wiggling noses and busy mouths as they enjoyed their treat.

It... didn’t give him the same relief, the same lightness, to watch these two as it had to watch Lan Yuan. His chest felt heavy, and his eyes wanted to sting and water because these rabbits more than any of the others were such a concrete reminder of... not just what he’d lost, but... how soon he’d lost it. Even with excellent care, rabbits were only supposed to live for about a decade. These rabbits were in their twilight years now, they had only another couple years left in their short lives, and Lan Wangji couldn’t bring himself to think about losing these rabbits no matter how real their passing would be before long.

Wei Wuxian should have outlived these rabbits five times over and yet...

Lan Wangji swallowed hard, forcing back the unwanted swell of emotions, and coming back to the world around him and remembering he wasn’t alone. Just as before, he glanced back over to where Lan Yuan was sitting in the grass--or at least where Lan Yuan had been sitting in the grass, because this time, as Lan Wangji’s eyes swept over the scene... the clearing contained nothing but rabbits.

Panic gripped him almost instantly, tightening in his throat and clenching down around his heart, and his casual glance became a scrutinizing one as he looked over the clearing again--but other than a dozen or so rabbits, there was nothing to be spotted amongst the tall grass.

Forcing himself to take a breath, Lan Wangji tried to stop the swirling of his racing thoughts, told himself that he’d only looked away for a moment, that Lan Yuan couldn’t possibly have gotten far. His eyes immediately swept the rest of the clearing, swept the tree line and into the woods all around them, for Lan Yuan or for any sign as to where he might have run off to--but there was no sight of him between the trees, no sight of him near the path, and if Lan Wangji couldn’t spot where he’d gone, then how could he possibly take off after him?

Anxiety clawed up the back of his throat, his heart starting to bang like a drum in his chest, his eyes sweeping the clearing quickly again. He knew his reflexes had dulled, his movements were slower, but he hadn’t thought his senses would fail him, and his breathing quickened in spite of himself as he started to move towards the path so see if Lan Yuan had somehow wandered off back towards home...

But the path was clear in both directions and Lan Wangji’s heart was now threatening to expel itself from his chest through his ribcage. He ignored the protest of his aching back as he quickly swept the perimeter of the clearing, as he peered as deep into the treeline as he possibly could, still convinced that Lan Yuan couldn’t have gone that far, that there was no way his tiny legs could have carried him out of Lan Wangji’s sight in such a brief lapse of time. He was so small and the forest was immense, and it was full of ledges and creatures and other things that would pose such a danger to such a young child, and the longer it took Lan Wangji to find him, the further Lan Yuan could manage to go.

Tears bloomed in Lan Wangji’s eyes again, his lungs desperate for air, his head a sickening flurry of panicked thoughts. He circled the clearing once, twice, three times, while the muscles in his back burned, screamed at him to stop, but there was no sign of Lan Yuan and no sign as to which direction he might have gone, and to pick a direction at random and hope would do him no good whatsoever, would only give Lan Yuan the chance to travel further away in whatever direction he’d toddled off in.

How could he have lost him? He had one simple job, he’d only needed to keep an eye on Lan Yuan and instead he’d let himself get lost in memories, get lost in a moment of grief over the rabbits he’d be losing as surely as he’d already lost Wei Wuxian and while he’d been trapped in his head, he’d lost him. Lan Yuan was the one living thing that Wei Wuxian had left behind, and when Lan Wangji had scooped him up into his arms and carried him out of the Burial Mounds, he vowed quietly to himself to give the boy the home that Wei Wuxian had wanted him to have, the home he’d deserved. Lan Wangji’s head had been a chaotic storm of grief and despair, and Lan Yuan had been sick, helpless, innocent, and Lan Wangji had seen an opportunity to protect him in the way he’d never been able to protect Wei Wuxian, and he’d promised himself that he would keep him safe...

And yet, after just one afternoon alone together, he’d failed him. He’d failed Lan Yuan just as thoroughly as he’d failed Wei Wuxian, and now Lan Yuan was surely in the forest somewhere, surely about to encounter some danger that Lan Wangji couldn’t save him from, and there was nothing Lan Wangji could do--even through the frenzied rush of adrenaline, he could feel the deep ache of his injuries, he could feel himself shaking, and even if he wanted to take off into the woods he wasn’t sure he’d make it very far. The best thing to do would be to return to the Cloud Recesses, to tell his brother what had happened and hope that they could put a search party together, that they could find the boy before anything truly terrible happened to him, but as Lan Wangji crossed back across the clearing to get to the path, to return home--

He’d barely made it halfway, near where all the rabbits were still piled together, before the pain and panic overwhelmed him and his knees gave out on him. He collapsed into the grass, his breaths clipped and haphazard, his hands trembling violently in front of him as tears clouded his vision, and when he tried to tell himself to get up, his body wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t budge.

He couldn’t make himself get up again, his head dropped to his chest and tears slipped down his face, and he couldn’t make those stop either, crying for Lan Yuan, crying for his rabbits, crying for Wei Wuxian in a way he wasn’t sure he’d let himself cry yet, not in all the months since his death. He’d ruined it, he’d ruined everything, he couldn’t help Wei Wuxian and he couldn’t help Lan Yuan, and now he was gone, and what if he died just like Wei Wuxian did, and it was Lan Wangji’s fault all over again?

The tears streamed down his face silently, and as he continued trying to urge himself to move, a few of the rabbits began hopping away from the pile and in his direction, nudging up against his hands and legs as if sensing his distress and trying to give him comfort and it was only then that... he suddenly heard something, a muffled little huffing noise, like the sound of a tiny breathless giggle. His eyes were drawn over to where the rabbits were slowly dispersing from, to where Lan Yuan had been sitting at the very beginning...

Lan Wangji’s heart dipped as he saw it; a tiny arm poking out from underneath one of the largest rabbits, gently and carefully stroking its tiny fingers along the rabbit’s side, and then... two little feet and legs poking up from under the rabbit’s backside.

Hope filled his chest as quickly as his next breath did, and Lan Wangji once more found his strength, pushed himself up to cross the space before he was sitting again and lifting the large rabbit up and setting it aside.

Lan Yuan was lying on his back, his soft giggles now unmuffled by the rabbit’s fur, an absolutely delighted little smile on his face as he said, “Ji-xiong, the rabbits tickle!”

The wave of relief was almost strong enough to bowl Lan Wangji over, and before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself scooping Lan Yuan up out of the grass, into his lap, and pulling him into a tight hug, as if needing to confirm by touch that Lan Yuan really was there and not off wandering the forest, putting himself in imminent danger.

But, no, it really was him and not just some distressed hallucination. Lan Yuan was here, he hadn’t even moved, and now he was safe and sound in Lan Wangji’s arms, and Lan Wangji wasn’t sure he could bring himself to let him go. He felt... ridiculous for letting himself get so worked up when Lan Yuan had been there all along and Lan Wangji hadn’t even considered checking the rabbits for him, but he was too grateful that Lan Yuan was safe to let himself linger in the feeling.

“Ji-xiong?” Lan Yuan asked in a small voice, sounding confused, and rightly so considering that this was the first time Lan Wangji had ever held him like this. Lan Wangji didn’t have an answer for him in the moment, his thoughts too jumbled and hectic to put into words enough for Lan Yuan to understand, but... apparently an answer wasn’t needed. After a moment, Lan Wangji felt Lan Yuan’s little arms wrapping around his neck and hugging him back.

Another set of tears seeped out from behind his closed eyelids, and for a while, all Lan Wangji could do was hold Lan Yuan as he soothed his frayed nerves, his heart rate and breathing slowly settling; but Lan Yuan truly was a sweet little boy, and he was quiet and patient as he was held, and after a moment he even began petting Lan Wangji’s hair just as gently as he’d been petting the rabbits before.

When Lan Wangji finally gathered himself enough, he relaxed his tight embrace and let Lan Yuan settle back in his lap so that they could look at one another as he put together an explanation for his reaction. He thought Lan Yuan deserved to understand, as much as he could anyway, and Lan Wangji... well, too much damage had already been done by not making his feelings known in time, and it wasn’t a mistake he wanted to repeat.

“I didn’t see you,” he said, mostly calm now, “I thought you’d wandered into the forest.”

He couldn’t possibly break down everything he’d felt in the last few minutes. There was no way to explain to someone so young the depths of his fear, the crushing feeling of failure, or the soul-deep ache of grief Lan Wangji felt over someone that Lan Yuan didn’t even remember, so he wouldn’t try.

Lan Yuan frowned and quickly shook his head in protest. “I didn’t move! Zewu-Jun told me the forest is dangerous,” he said knowingly, insistently. “He said I should do what you told me and never run away!”

“You did nothing wrong,” Lan Wangji confirmed gently. Panicking like he did had been his own fault; Lan Yuan couldn’t be blamed for one of the rabbits getting too friendly, after all--and though he hadn’t known about it, hearing that his brother had given Lan Yuan instructions before their trip didn’t surprise him... neither did the fact that Lan Yuan had listened closely and remembered them. “Zewu-Jun is right, the forest is dangerous. When I didn’t see you, I was afraid you might have gotten lost or hurt.”

Lan Yuan looked thoughtful for a moment, and once he seemed to make sense of it, he said, “So Ji-xiong was sad because he thought I was hurt?”

Lan Wangji nodded, affirmed it with a soft, “mn.” If Lan Yuan understood that much, it was enough.

It was... surprising as Lan Yuan actually leaned in and hugged him again. Lan Wangji’s heart softened a bit more, his nerves settling, and though he didn’t cling to Lan Yuan again, he kept a hand resting on back for as long as he held him close. He took a few more slow inhales as he calmed down further, found comfort and appreciation in the idea of Lan Yuan being such a compassionate child as to offer him this sort of affection.

“I’ll always listen to Ji-xiong and Zewu-Jun,” Lan Yuan said quietly, “I promise.”

Lan Wangji let out a soft breath, his shoulders slumping a little more. Someday there might come a time when that wasn’t true, just as such a time had come when the sect rules had become almost meaningless to Lan Wangji... but for now, it was a reassurance he would take.

Once Lan Yuan’s grip on him loosened, Lan Wangji lowered his hand from Lan Yuan's back and said, “Let’s finish feeding the rabbits.”

As much as there was a part of Lan Wangji that was exhausted and ready to return to the Jingshi at once... a larger part of him felt the way his back was aching, and knew he’d need to take a little while to recover some energy from exacerbating his injuries in his panic, before he’d be able to make the short trek back home.

Besides, the smile that spread back over Lan Yuan’s face at the suggestion was more than worth it, and watching Lan Yuan resume his task of feeding and petting each rabbit that approached him was enough to soften the jagged edges of Lan Wangji's broken heart.

Wei Wuxian was gone, and for as much as it ached, for as much as Lan Wangji had struggled the last few months to see life as something worth living... There were still things left in this world that were worth fighting for, things that were worth protecting.

Lan Wangji had accepted there was nothing he could to do to change the past, but... it was clearer now than ever that he had the power to effect the present and alter the future. As he watched the young boy in front of him resume his soft giggling and as his own fingers stroked soothingly over the impossibly soft fur of one of the rabbits nuzzled up against him, he realized that what was more important now than ever... was doing everything in his power to protect what remained in this world, because that was where his effort could actually make a difference.

#untamed fall fest #lan wangji #lan sizhui #wen yaun #wangxian #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #cql #mdzs fic #mdzs fanfiction #the untamed fanfic #vesper posts #wrote a thing

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