( muscle memory. or in this case, lover’s memory, because lan wangji has kissed someone before, the same someone he’s kissing now, and it’s a cruel tragedy that neither of them really know. the haze dissipates. it swirls thick, wafts through his thoughts, until there’s nothing but light prickles on his lips, a token of his shameful loss of control.
eyes widen, and lan wangji jerks away, absentmindedly wiping at his cheeks as he stares aghast, the knot in his stomach making it hard to breathe. he should apologize. he doesn’t, the entirety of his mental lexicon crushed under an onslaught of different pains. anger. shame. sorrow. they drive his feet past the stranger, shoulders squared, and he doesn’t know how long he walks for, how far or how fast, and for one rare moment, lan wangji is devastatingly unable to think.
it’s a droning in the back of his skull, and in the midst of his confusion, frustration rises above everything else, mixed with a hint of despair. something’s amiss and he can’t ever figure out what it is, almost as if his own mind somehow plays nasty tricks on him. ultimately, he finds refuge in his backyard, wei ying’s, breathing heavily under the ginkgo tree. he’s a mess. unlan-like, and the worst part is, he can’t even decide whether he feels remorse. he only does when he’s reminded that it couldn’t possibly have been wei wuxian, and it’s a whole new set of agitation that crashes over him.
he doesn’t scream. there’s only a small grunt as he sways and punches the tree, a desperate need to unwind, and he doesn’t know how. teeth clench. the wind picks up, a brief but powerful gust, maybe his own doing. and then his lungs deflate, and he stands there hunched over in the dark, struggling to remember who he is. )
no subject
eyes widen, and lan wangji jerks away, absentmindedly wiping at his cheeks as he stares aghast, the knot in his stomach making it hard to breathe. he should apologize. he doesn’t, the entirety of his mental lexicon crushed under an onslaught of different pains. anger. shame. sorrow. they drive his feet past the stranger, shoulders squared, and he doesn’t know how long he walks for, how far or how fast, and for one rare moment, lan wangji is devastatingly unable to think.
it’s a droning in the back of his skull, and in the midst of his confusion, frustration rises above everything else, mixed with a hint of despair. something’s amiss and he can’t ever figure out what it is, almost as if his own mind somehow plays nasty tricks on him. ultimately, he finds refuge in his backyard, wei ying’s, breathing heavily under the ginkgo tree. he’s a mess. unlan-like, and the worst part is, he can’t even decide whether he feels remorse. he only does when he’s reminded that it couldn’t possibly have been wei wuxian, and it’s a whole new set of agitation that crashes over him.
he doesn’t scream. there’s only a small grunt as he sways and punches the tree, a desperate need to unwind, and he doesn’t know how. teeth clench. the wind picks up, a brief but powerful gust, maybe his own doing. and then his lungs deflate, and he stands there hunched over in the dark, struggling to remember who he is. )