( ...and then lan wangji doesnβt leave. something happens. strange, quiet. the distant feeling of being called without quite hearing his name. his steps slow down and he turns unhurried, attracted to the unknown, a nameless urge. the crowd disperses. or maybe it doesnβt and simply feels like it does, blurry in the periphery of his vision as he finds his way back inside. mellow notes fill the air, and lan wangji cranes his neck in search of something, someone, a pull towards a silhouette that reminds of the man he saw outside. wei ying. is it? his heart stutters, swelling in his throat. wei ying. each beat laced with his name, and he canβt be sure what prompts him to reach for him, to touch his fingers with his and gently pull, making him pivot until he faces him again.
wei ying.
identity masked, his heart and his mind wage war in the confines of his consciousness, too distant still for him to question anything. he doesnβt say anything, nor does he try to stop himself when his arms rise of their own volition and find purchase around the other man, a loose embrace that causes his breath to falter on parted lips, goosebumps everywhere.
and he moves, gently swaying, his gaze locked into the strangerβs as his pulse deafens his thoughts. )
no subject
wei ying.
identity masked, his heart and his mind wage war in the confines of his consciousness, too distant still for him to question anything. he doesnβt say anything, nor does he try to stop himself when his arms rise of their own volition and find purchase around the other man, a loose embrace that causes his breath to falter on parted lips, goosebumps everywhere.
and he moves, gently swaying, his gaze locked into the strangerβs as his pulse deafens his thoughts. )