Having words revisit him from the past isn't unusual, not these days, but it doesn't reduce an earned sting, which he smiles at, eyes falling away for a moment. It's not really a laugh, but something smaller than that, before he looks back up to Jiang Cheng, expression somewhere between sad and understanding.
"We all need someone to stand by us, Jiang Cheng. It has nothing to do with being delicate or weak. As much as we want to protect others, why is it so hard to realise that means people want to protect us in turn?"
It's not a rhetorical question. The awkwardness of his expression, then the wry twist to his lips as he rubs at the back of his neck, glancing away again. Jiang Cheng is upset, has so many reasons to be, and Wei Wuxian doesn't want to be upset, but he can't say he isn't. If he ignores it hard enough—
"It's been months for me since then. You never went missing. I'd have heard," he says, looking up to Jiang Cheng's face, hand dropping away from the back of his neck. "I make sure to know what I can of what's going on for the clans, no matter where I am."
I keep track of you, even though we're not talking.
The rest comes slower, pulled out of him as he considers: what does he need to say, what should he say, what does he owe this brother of his? So much more than he knows how to give. He's struggling as it is with figuring out how to pay back Lan Zhan's loyalty, his mourning and searching of sixteen years. With Chenqing back in hand because of Jiang Cheng, how is he supposed to pay off this debt, too? This anger and grief, the fractured hearts between them?
Wen Qing's walked off the platform today, and brings to mind another sister, a more traumatic ghost, someone else who has sacrificed for him when it wasn't worth it, it's never worth their lives, but they'd wanted to protect him too. He swallows, blinks back tears from heated eyes.
"I'm sorry I told you to stop trying to protect me just because I wanted to protect you. I was wrong."
Because pushing people away, trying to take it all on himself, not once has it worked out. Not once has it truly, fully, completely stopped anyone's pain, just shifted the trajectory of it.
no subject
"We all need someone to stand by us, Jiang Cheng. It has nothing to do with being delicate or weak. As much as we want to protect others, why is it so hard to realise that means people want to protect us in turn?"
It's not a rhetorical question. The awkwardness of his expression, then the wry twist to his lips as he rubs at the back of his neck, glancing away again. Jiang Cheng is upset, has so many reasons to be, and Wei Wuxian doesn't want to be upset, but he can't say he isn't. If he ignores it hard enough—
"It's been months for me since then. You never went missing. I'd have heard," he says, looking up to Jiang Cheng's face, hand dropping away from the back of his neck. "I make sure to know what I can of what's going on for the clans, no matter where I am."
I keep track of you, even though we're not talking.
The rest comes slower, pulled out of him as he considers: what does he need to say, what should he say, what does he owe this brother of his? So much more than he knows how to give. He's struggling as it is with figuring out how to pay back Lan Zhan's loyalty, his mourning and searching of sixteen years. With Chenqing back in hand because of Jiang Cheng, how is he supposed to pay off this debt, too? This anger and grief, the fractured hearts between them?
Wen Qing's walked off the platform today, and brings to mind another sister, a more traumatic ghost, someone else who has sacrificed for him when it wasn't worth it, it's never worth their lives, but they'd wanted to protect him too. He swallows, blinks back tears from heated eyes.
"I'm sorry I told you to stop trying to protect me just because I wanted to protect you. I was wrong."
Because pushing people away, trying to take it all on himself, not once has it worked out. Not once has it truly, fully, completely stopped anyone's pain, just shifted the trajectory of it.