( If Wei Wuxian knew the particulars of Jiang Cheng's thoughts, he'd point out they were never blood related anyway, and their bond had always been in shared experiences and hearts. He doesn't, however, and he's now stranded in a hug he can't end, so he keeps holding on. Mildly distressed, but more glad to be of some scant help, even if it's in lancing the abscessed wounds of near two decades.
He listens, humming his agreement: it'd taken a lifetime, yes, because youth had meant a confidence in things, assumptions about burdens, what he'd done out of love and loyalty and a sense of justice, and where it had ruined the things which he loved, had been loyal to, had tried to save. Justice in an unjust world is asking to be driven to the brink. Backing matters. One cannot stand on their own and hold back the tide of public opinion.
If only he'd learned that earlier. If only he hadn't decided he was the most expendable variable.
(But he had. And looking back, he doesn't know he would have done so much different, aside from strive to save the lives whose loss had broken both men here in ways still jagged, still bleeding.)
He only truly stiffens when Jiang Cheng shakes his head, swallowing down the words of I believed in you, but I also believed in a guilt I didn't want you to bear. Because the words that follow, the... confession, if that's what it is, leaves his brow furrowed and his hold on Jiang Cheng tightening, clinging to him so he doesn't pull him away and stare into his face. He can't do that right now. Can't handle it. )
Jiang Cheng.
( His name, a touch sharp, but volume low. Because it takes thinking back, it takes remembering, it takes a fever of his shijie, it takes the inexplicable timing, the Wen Forces in towns, scouring after any of them. A massacre, and the broken man he'd begged Wen Ning to haul free, the depression that followed, and— )
You—you fool.
( And his breath catches, his throat tightens, his chest feels too small, too tight, to contain his heart and lungs. They've never been only one fool, have they? Two fools, in differing and similar ways. Brothers in all but name. Broken bonds, yes, but perhaps not burned so thoroughly there's no room for rebuilding, if just, if just...
The sob catches him by surprise, and he chokes on it, shudders in Jiang Cheng's arms, turns his face so it can't be seen when the tears flow hot, escaping his eyes and rolling down the planes of his slowly rounding out face. )
Can't you tell, I always believed in you?
( It is and isn't what he wants to say, but a shuddering breath, his slammed shut eyes, his hold on his once brother, all says the same thing in the end: everything in Yunmeng will always cut deep. He never stopped caring, even if his words failed. Taking after Jiang Cheng in this, who can say various things, but not the ones he means most. )
I'm sorry. And thank you, for loving us as well as you did.
( It's a word he trips over, because it has all different connotations, but this is not just loyalty, it's not duty. That's too backward: that was what he, Wei Wuxian, had owed and broken, not what Jiang Cheng owed.
(His thinking in this is flawed. Loyalty goes both ways; duty has more than one shade of meaning. But he cannot blame Jiang Cheng. He sees his own guilt too largely to do something like that.)
Acting in these ways, for the three of them, was always a form of love. Unsaid except perhaps by Yanli, who had always been the strongest, the steadiest, and the wisest of them all. )
locked in an awkward but soul affirming embrace, it's great
He listens, humming his agreement: it'd taken a lifetime, yes, because youth had meant a confidence in things, assumptions about burdens, what he'd done out of love and loyalty and a sense of justice, and where it had ruined the things which he loved, had been loyal to, had tried to save. Justice in an unjust world is asking to be driven to the brink. Backing matters. One cannot stand on their own and hold back the tide of public opinion.
If only he'd learned that earlier. If only he hadn't decided he was the most expendable variable.
(But he had. And looking back, he doesn't know he would have done so much different, aside from strive to save the lives whose loss had broken both men here in ways still jagged, still bleeding.)
He only truly stiffens when Jiang Cheng shakes his head, swallowing down the words of I believed in you, but I also believed in a guilt I didn't want you to bear. Because the words that follow, the... confession, if that's what it is, leaves his brow furrowed and his hold on Jiang Cheng tightening, clinging to him so he doesn't pull him away and stare into his face. He can't do that right now. Can't handle it. )
Jiang Cheng.
( His name, a touch sharp, but volume low. Because it takes thinking back, it takes remembering, it takes a fever of his shijie, it takes the inexplicable timing, the Wen Forces in towns, scouring after any of them. A massacre, and the broken man he'd begged Wen Ning to haul free, the depression that followed, and— )
You—you fool.
( And his breath catches, his throat tightens, his chest feels too small, too tight, to contain his heart and lungs. They've never been only one fool, have they? Two fools, in differing and similar ways. Brothers in all but name. Broken bonds, yes, but perhaps not burned so thoroughly there's no room for rebuilding, if just, if just...
The sob catches him by surprise, and he chokes on it, shudders in Jiang Cheng's arms, turns his face so it can't be seen when the tears flow hot, escaping his eyes and rolling down the planes of his slowly rounding out face. )
Can't you tell, I always believed in you?
( It is and isn't what he wants to say, but a shuddering breath, his slammed shut eyes, his hold on his once brother, all says the same thing in the end: everything in Yunmeng will always cut deep. He never stopped caring, even if his words failed. Taking after Jiang Cheng in this, who can say various things, but not the ones he means most. )
I'm sorry. And thank you, for loving us as well as you did.
( It's a word he trips over, because it has all different connotations, but this is not just loyalty, it's not duty. That's too backward: that was what he, Wei Wuxian, had owed and broken, not what Jiang Cheng owed.
(His thinking in this is flawed. Loyalty goes both ways; duty has more than one shade of meaning. But he cannot blame Jiang Cheng. He sees his own guilt too largely to do something like that.)
Acting in these ways, for the three of them, was always a form of love. Unsaid except perhaps by Yanli, who had always been the strongest, the steadiest, and the wisest of them all. )