He makes a final sniff, a final wipe of his face, and takes another bite of the loquat. He feels drained, and empty, and he doesn’t know how to take the words. He is used to being put up with, tolerated. But he hadn’t offered it only for himself. He didn’t understand how the adults around him - some barely older than he was - didn’t want to know. Didn’t yearn for every tiny scrap of truth. He felt like all he wanted were endless answers, all the mysteries committed before he was born having sprung up to unravel his life now.
But Jiang Cheng didn’t want to hear it, not really. Not the important things. Wei Wuxian was happy in his obliviousness. Even the ghosts of his parents were terrifying in their ignorance, despite how badly he yearned to be near them. To know them.
Maybe only the Juniors understood. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He considered unloading it all anyway. Dumping every last thought and feeling he’s ever had about Wei Wuxian on him. But despite feeling like Lan Wangji would understand, the gap is too great. They aren’t in Lanling. Wangji hasn’t saved him, with Wei Wuxian, twice over.
It would be like how it felt offering his feelings to his parents at the shrine. Their love set so far in the past that he can only hope they might recognize him now.
He glares at the dwindling fruit in his hand. ]
He makes terrible congee.
[ His nose scrunched in memory as he said it. ] And he told me once that I should fight everyone now, while I’m young. As if anyone would actually let me get away with it. He- you- saved my life. Twice.
[ He squeezed the fruit a little too hard, finger nails cutting into scant remaining flesh. ]
I’ve never seen him do a single thing that would let me call him evil.
[ He raised his eyes, harder now. There. Debt paid whether Wangji recognized it or not. As if he could possibly know how much that hurt to admit. As if anyone could. ]
no subject
He makes a final sniff, a final wipe of his face, and takes another bite of the loquat. He feels drained, and empty, and he doesn’t know how to take the words. He is used to being put up with, tolerated. But he hadn’t offered it only for himself. He didn’t understand how the adults around him - some barely older than he was - didn’t want to know. Didn’t yearn for every tiny scrap of truth. He felt like all he wanted were endless answers, all the mysteries committed before he was born having sprung up to unravel his life now.
But Jiang Cheng didn’t want to hear it, not really. Not the important things. Wei Wuxian was happy in his obliviousness. Even the ghosts of his parents were terrifying in their ignorance, despite how badly he yearned to be near them. To know them.
Maybe only the Juniors understood. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He considered unloading it all anyway. Dumping every last thought and feeling he’s ever had about Wei Wuxian on him. But despite feeling like Lan Wangji would understand, the gap is too great. They aren’t in Lanling. Wangji hasn’t saved him, with Wei Wuxian, twice over.
It would be like how it felt offering his feelings to his parents at the shrine. Their love set so far in the past that he can only hope they might recognize him now.
He glares at the dwindling fruit in his hand. ]
He makes terrible congee.
[ His nose scrunched in memory as he said it. ] And he told me once that I should fight everyone now, while I’m young. As if anyone would actually let me get away with it. He- you- saved my life. Twice.
[ He squeezed the fruit a little too hard, finger nails cutting into scant remaining flesh. ]
I’ve never seen him do a single thing that would let me call him evil.
[ He raised his eyes, harder now. There. Debt paid whether Wangji recognized it or not. As if he could possibly know how much that hurt to admit. As if anyone could. ]
The rest I’ll keep unless you ask.