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[one_note]

[ TEXT | ACTION | IDK FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS ]

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[untamedhero]

[closes his eyes because those words definitely have different meaning than they had in his past life--or, hell, even between the start and most recent events of his second life.]

But you didn't force it. Remember? It ended up being the option the first time after I came back because... well... Jiang Cheng... and me saying those things...

[it really was get dragged back to Yunmeng or go to Gusu under Lan Wangji's protection, then.]

But you still let it be my choice.

[one_note]

Listen.

[there is a long, strangely soft pause. Lan Wangji is still again for it, that strange statue-state that takes him almost beyond human, his brow creased in thought, or focus. he is terrified, here and now, he notes distantly somewhere. he fancies his heartbeat is past a rabbit's and akin to a hummingbird's, liable to burst from his chest if he is not careful. if he finally tries to tell this, and fails to say it right, he does not think he can remove the stop on his tongue a second time without magic, fairy or otherwise.]

You asked after my mother, once.

[untamedhero]

[he pauses, then leans back against Lan Wangji when he feels that stiffness, hands settled over his.]

... I did, yes.

[one_note]

Mother's marriage to Father was unwilling.

[untamedhero]

... and she "passed in confinement".

Why?

[one_note]

[his voice has gone remote as well as soft, like he's talking about an old and distant story, and not pulling the skeletons from the closet of his own immediate family]

In their youth, she killed their teacher. Would have been executed.

Father loved her. Married her to stay this. Her punishment became lifelong confinement; seclusion. He underwent the same, in a separate house.

[untamedhero]

That's why you said you wouldn't emulate your father.

[reasonable, actually.]

[one_note]

Would never imprison you.

Do not wish to.

[untamedhero]

But you're afraid that you might do something like it?

[one_note]

...

Would not be difficult.

...

I am like my father.

[there might be more to that. the second sentence has a hanging quality. but he doesn't continue.]

[untamedhero]

[... as much as it can irk him for someone to claim to be able to get him to do anything, Lan Wangji is the one person this proves true for, so doesn't comment on that.]

How so?

[one_note]

If I said. I had never contemplated your confinement. For your protection, before your death.

Would be a lie.

Not what I offered, nonetheless.

[untamedhero]

I think that'd make you different from him, then.

Thinking about something and doing it are two different things. Of course you'd think of it--it was a solution your father took. And even if you did take action to confine me, it's not like you could force me into a marriage, right? It's no where near the same. And you didn't do any of it, besides.

[one_note]

Perhaps.

Regardless. Easy to contemplate. Taking what I should not.

This has always been true.

[untamedhero]

Contemplating is one thing, doing another!

And I still say that one time shouldn't count, anyway. It's not like it ruined me. I wasn't and I'm not upset about it or anything.

[one_note]

Does not make it right.

[his chin is resting on Wei Wuxian's shoulder, like he's very tired. their cheeks brush, warm. for all his upset, he's not actually withdrawing again from Wei Wuxian in the process.]

[untamedhero]

[sighs and lifting up a hand to run fingers through his hair.]

Really... just how often did you contemplate things like that if you feel this guilty about it?

[one_note]

Often.

[untamedhero]

Since when?

[one_note]

[a very deep sigh, perhaps more at the ghost of his younger self than anything else]

Before the war.

[untamedhero]

[wait, wait. he has to math this out a bit.

and then blurt out--]

Wait, does this mean you were angry with me that whole time because you were contemplating doing things but wouldn't??? Weren't we around seventeen then? Just what kind of things were you contemplating?

[one_note]

That was. Less.

[at the tournament he'd still been struggling to put a name to those desires and what he wished to do about them, though he'd certainly been furious with emotion over it, out of control under the false calm veneer of his own skin.

in the rush of the indoctrination camp and the Xuanwu, there hadn't been much time for contemplating wants. the stress and anxiety of Gusu burning and Xichen missing and his father wounded had been heavy on his mind. he does not remember fantasizing about Wei Wuxian in his bed then so much as he remembers the fury of trying to do what he could for him, even as it was returned, or the bittersweet repetition in his head as he'd pulled Wei Wuxian out from the Xuanwu's teeth and held him through his fever when he'd grown delirious: not him. not him too.

still, it hadn't been without its moments of baffled wanting outrage.]

You are the one who teased.

[untamedhero]

[... touche.]

Ah... see, that's the fairest point you've made here about it. Of course you'd contemplate things when someone's teasing you like that.

[one_note]

[they're at the wrong angle for eye contact just now, but possibly Wei Wuxian can feel the level stare angled at him anyway]

"Of course."

[untamedhero]

I just inspire that sort of response, don't I?

Are you contemplating something now, Hangaung-Jun?