westwhere | i will not ask you where you came from

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i will not ask you where you came from

WHO: Wen Kexing & Zhou Zishu
WHEN: Shortly after the TDM
WHERE: Ephes ( a tavern )
WHAT: Just two awful men reuniting for the love affair of the century.
WARNINGS: No, unless a mass murderer being absolutely pathetic is something to warn for. We're retconning their tdm meeting with permission, however!

The tavern is already full and noisy by the time Wen Kexing arrives, brow furrowed and a bundle of papers in his arms. He slips in easy enough, ducking around patrons to make his way to the bar, gaining the servers attention just by rapping his knuckles against the wood of the counter. A smile, and his bundle is taken away, promises that they will be signed and returned given. A cup of wine placed in front of him that he knocks back with a grimace, his constant headache looming behind his eyes. The server, a broad shouldered man who knows Wen Kexing, tells him he's just missed someone buying a round, and he gives a wry smile, tossing down his coin just as easily. Another cup, and he tilts his head to listen to a group of girls gossiping about the handsome man in the corner, pulling his fan from his sleeve so he can wave it lazily in front of his face.

He's tired, too irritable to make conversation, too busy to leave. He just needs the papers signed by the man in charge and then he can go back to his rooms and drink himself into oblivion, that's all. It shouldn't take long. But still he leans on one elbow to scan the room, idle and bored. It takes him a full sweep before his mind catches up with him and that attention snaps to that very same corner, the handsome brooding man he'd just heard about. They don't do him justice, he thinks, sudden and hysterical. He almost opens his mouth to correct the group of girls when they chitter about the prospect of walking over, but instead he's snapping his fan shut and moving, feet clumsy and his tongue suddenly dry.

The robes are new, the robes are new but he'd recognise him anywhere.

"Ah-Xu."

That lovely face snaps up to look at him, Wen Kexing having to steady himself by placing a hand on the table in front of him. He's shaking a little, he can feel it all the way up to his shoulder. There is a pin in his hair that matches the one in Wen Kexing's own and he thinks wildly that it suits him, that it's unfair that it suits him, when he can't remember placing it there.

"Ah-Xu, we can't keep meeting like this."

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Reflexively he tugs, Zhou Zishu had the right idea of tightening his grip because his first instinct is to try and flee. It's an animal kind of panic, a fox caught in a trap and willing to gnaw at it's own leg for freedom. It is only because it is Zhou Zishu himself that Wen Kexing doesn't lash out, and after a second the breath that had caught tight in his chest loosens, comes free in a ragged exhale.

"It's different."

It feels as though it is to Wen Kexing. There has always been something wrong in him. His teeth bare, a spike of familiar pain lancing behind his skull, he realises distantly that his hands are shaking. How terribly close the Valley feels, so far away from it's mountains, how badly he approaches being human. But Zhou Zishu is still holding on to him, is still looking at him, and Wen Kexing raises his head with guilty eyes.

"Why aren't you angry?"

"Why should I be?"

He sighs, letting go of one of Wen Kexing's hands so he can mirror their earlier position. Wen Kexing's cheek is soft beneath his hand, warm, and Zhou Zishu pats it a few times before sliding his hand down to cup Wen Kexing's nape, pressing their foreheads together.

"I knew, Lao Wen. There's only so many people in the jianghu who can match me, and practically none that I wouldn't know." He shakes Wen Kexing carefully. "You did what you had to. Lao Wen, you'll get your revenge. You find who was responsible for everything, and avenge your parents. You will get your happy ending."

Or, mostly. He hopes that he didn't leave behind a body when he came here, that he didn't die in Ghost Valley right before the wedding. It'll certainly put a damper on celebrations.

It's a little much. Wen Kexing finds it hard to control his emotions at the best of times, but after the week he's had his defences are tattered, useless things. His eyes are wet, he knows, adrenaline and fear and dreadful hope flooding his veins. Does he do it, truly? Could he possibly succeed? Even at the height of his mania the certainty of his victory had always come with a cost. He'd crawled from the Valley not expecting to survive, and that was all right, wasn't it? If he found somewhere for Gu Xiang, if he gave her a nice life with someone else that would be enough.

And then he had stumbled over Zhou Zishu, and he'd still been certain this would all end with his death, but he wanted to survive then. The world was brighter, vaster, better, all of a sudden.

He clears his throat, an ache in it, "If I wake up in the morning and find this has all been a dream and you're not actually here, I'll burn this entire place to the ground, Ah-Xu. I really will."

The ghosts that have been haunting him lately have been too real. This could be one as well, he thinks, nervous gaze alighting over Zhou Zishu's face. But no, it feels real.

"So you know, and you still -?" Ah, emotions are terrible, he wants to drink, he wants to sleep, he wants to crawl into Zhou Zishu's ribcage and stay there. And then, carefully. "What are we, in the future?"

"We are--"

What are they?

"Zhiji," he says, for lack of anything better. "You're the reason I want to live."

It is both the answer he wants to hear and not. Truthfully, Wen Kexing has been pondering the state of them since he arrived here, since multiple people have implied that he is a very much taken man, despite how easily he'd slipped into the sleazy, unserious skin he used to wear. He can't say it isn't appealing, it is, it's everything he wants in fact, but it's also vaguely terrifying.

Maybe he's still a coward in the future.

But, Zhou Zishu knows who he is. And he still calls Wen Kexing zhiji. Isn't that enough? And so he lets out a wet laugh, smiles, leans back to wipe at his eyes.

"Ah, good. You've caught up then. I thought I'd have to spell it out for you."

Isn't being the reason he's no longer seeking death enough? Isn't it a declaration of sorts that Wen Kexing is the reason he's looking for a way to live?

Zhou Zishu thinks he knows what Wen Kexing wants, but he doesn't know. His own Lao Wen, he's more sure of, but a few months makes all the difference and he's frightened--Zhou Zishu can admit that to himself. He's frightened of the differences, of pushing too hard and too fast and scaring his soft, silly Lao Wen away.

"You're mine," he says, and means you are my person, you are mine to protect and care for. "Is that caught up enough?"

It settles something inside of him, the confirmation. What does it matter which shape they take, as long as Wen Kexing can be his. There was a reason those shining days of childhood bliss stayed long after he drank the Meng Pao soup, though he'd been too young to understand it then - that bright fascination he'd had, that want, a boy a little older offering him the hand of friendship. He's yearned to belong somewhere else all these years, and here Zhou Zishu is, offering it. Wen Kexing laughs once, a hiccup of sound, leaning back in to press their foreheads together again. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, lets some of the weight drop from his shoulders.

"Ah-Xu, you've gone soft."

So has he, if he's honest.

A moment passes, two, and he opens his eyes, pulls reluctantly back into a more respectable sitting position. "It'll be midnight soon. Do you want to rest before?"

"I wasn't going to tell you..." He certainly didn't, the first time around, but it'll be too hard to hide, here. Especially when he's so dependent on Wen Kexing in this strange new place.

"The Nails, they don't...hurt. As much as they used to, at least. Senior Ye said it was an indication of my body's progression, but-- It's not so bad. Sometimes, they don't bother me at all, and I can sleep through most of the night."

"Oh."

Isn't that good? But then the rest of Zhou Zishu's statement catches up with him and an earnest, fervent light appears in his eyes. "You spoke to that old goat again? So he came back? Did he bring a cure? What was it?"

He laughs, then, a breathless huff of air. "He sent a missive calling me a bastard." And then, because it requires explanation, "The help he found was the Great Shaman of Nanjiang. What he didn't know is that I'm old friends with both him and his husband."

Quick as a whip Wen Kexing is smacking Zhou Zishu on his arm, a good solid thunk of the back of his hand.

"All this time, you knew someone who could help you and you didn't avail on them? Ah-Xu, when you've resting I am going to beat you from here all the way back to the Jianghu, do you hear me? We had to ask Ye Baiyi."

He'll go back to the husband thing later. That's interesting.

"Can the shaman help?"

"Lao Wen," he protests, rubbing at his arm, and then, more quietly. "It didn't occur to me to ask them. I didn't want to live, before."

"Ye. Baiyi."

His mortal nemesis. Although, Wen Kexing is unaware of how true that is. His complaints are merely because the man annoys him, eating everything in sight, mocking him whenever they meet. His bottom lip pushes out, a half pout, before his expression softens. His heart lurches, bittersweet.

"All right, all right. So there's a chance at home. That means there will be one too. I know of one person I can ask, perhaps two. Will you let me? I'd have to give them details."

And Zhou Zishu is a private person, pigheadedly so.

"Yes."

Because what else could he say? His condition is even worse than Wen Kexing thinks it is, and Zhou Zishu doesn't want Wen Kexing to wake up to his corpse one morning. "Yes, any help would be appreciated. Perhaps sooner rather than later."

Zishu sighs, pressing his fingertips to Wen Kexing's cheek. "Don't look at me like that. I'll survive, or I won't. If I don't, you'll be perfectly fine, hm?"

"You literally just told me to stop lying to you."

Of course he wouldn't be perfectly fine, he'd either be half-mad looking for a way to fix it or he'd be finding himself someone that might put him out of his misery. Already the idea that Lan Wangji could be goaded into it is forming in his mind, a backup plan of a backup plan, spinning away.

"Perfectly fine, keep spouting nonsense and I'll kill you myself."

Panic is an old friend, he's used to it, but he doesn't like this. The frantic, desperate need to do something before he loses everything. "I'll figure it out, I'm more clever than you give me credit for."

Zhou Zishu frowns, tapping Wen Kexing sharply on the cheek. "I won't let you do that to yourself. Don't you turn me into one of your ghosts. Metaphorically speaking." Because when the person sitting across from him is the leader of Ghost Valley, that specification is apparently necessary.

"Stop."

There's more of a plea in it than he means, a cracked edge to his voice. "Can we just be desperately hopeful for five minutes? I know you want me to face the possibility Ah-Xu, but I've done nothing but for months and you're finally here and I want to hope - fuck - I want to believe there's a chance, all right?"

He shrugs him off, crossing his arms over his chest like a child, glancing at Zhou Zishu quick and then away again.

"When I thought I was trapped here I kept thinking of how things could go wrong. That somehow everyone else would be mistaken and I'd get back and you'd be -." A pause, a barely concealed shudder, "- so I've thought about it, all right, every single day, and I just want -. Not right now. You're here, and you're breathing, and I am going to find a way to fix it. So just, stop."

Zhou Zishu opens his mouth, and then shuts it again, pressing his lips together as he lets out a slow breath.

"Yes, all right. I'm sorry," he says quietly. He's the one who refused to speak further about it before; it's only because his death weighs so heavily on his mind that he's now rather incapable of thinking of anything else--especially with how hopeful his Lao Wen is.

"Let us speak of happier things," he says quietly. "Tell me about your life, here. Tell me about your friends, your joys, your sorrows. About the music and wine."

He stretches for the wine again, resettling on the bed so that his back is to the wall and he's pressed shoulder to shoulder, side to side against Zhou Zishu. He could leave room, and he's sure that much is obvious, but he doesn't. Instead he hands the wine over, reaches out to pluck at the fabric of Zhou Zishu's robes, thumb running along the way it folds. He thinks about reaching for his device now, sending messages in the dead of the night to try and alleviate some of the fear that seems to be choking them both, but Zhou Zishu is right there and it's dark out.

"You'll be disappointed. The wine is at least in abundance, but the music not so much. Though once a woman by the name of Wen Qing was bidden by an old monk to recite us all a dirty song, which I found hilarious."

A grin, tipped Zhou Zishu's way. It's easy to pretend it has been pleasant. "We're not related, I checked. Hm, what else? What might amuse the great Lord Zhou to think of? I had to fish once, though the younger Master Lan took exception to my rampant murder and thought of fighting me by the river. Oh! And on my very first take I was taken hostage by a hoard of literal ghosts who trapped me in a kitchen until I made their disgusting soup for them."

"As good a cook as ever, Lao Wen?" he teases gently. "You'll have to cook for me." Zhou Zishu's never learned to cook, and he doesn't plan to learn. Not when he'll always have Wen Kexing at his side to care for him. "Were you making Meng Po soup? Ah-- That reminds me. Your memories..."

He trails off, frowning. "I don't know. Do you want it, now? Here? If it's even possible... Drunk Like A Dream can be an antidote to Meng Po soup, Lao Wen. We learned that."

He stiffens, very slightly, before he forces himself to relax again. Maybe he'll get used to the idea that Zhou Zishu knows eventually, but for now it will continue to throw him off. To combat that he sinks further against the other man, voice going thoughtful.

"One problem at a time, I think. And besides which, this place has a tendency to unearth things you don't wish to recall."

He pauses, fidgety again, takes the wine back to swallow a mouthful. He doesn't look at Zhou Zishu, but his fingers curl in the robe at his side, "Do you know? Do you know how my parents were found? You said I had my revenge, so you must."

He covers Wen Kexing's hand with his own again, rubbing his thumb soothingly over that slim, graceful hand. More beautiful than his own, all the lovelier for how capable of violence and gentleness both Zishu knows Wen Kexing is capable of.

"I do." But it's something he doesn't want to tell Wen Kexing, not when he knows how Lao Wen will blame himself for it--especially without Zhao Jing here to seek revenge on.

He waits, and the longer Zhou Zishu doesn't tell him the more he knows it's for the best. Oh, he certainly wants to demand the answer, he can feel the need for it like acid behind his teeth, but there have been too many revelations, too many bruises pressed. He can let it sit for a little longer. And so Wen Kexing merely turns his hand, threads their fingers together instead, shyly bold as he squeezes, a thumb running over a knuckle.

"Maybe don't tell me now."

He watches their hands instead of looking at Zhou Zishu. He thinks he's grown a little, the last few months, left only to ruminate and want in his spare time. Or maybe it's just because the last few days have been so awful, and now there is hope again. He doesn't want to feel like burning.

And so eventually, "I'll just have to remain the most unfilial son for a little while longer. I can't avenge them here, and there are other things that need dealt with more presently. They'll have to forgive me."

"Your parents wouldn't begrudge you any of this," Zhou Zishu says, soft but firm. "They'd want you to be happy and safe. Your revenge, avenging them, it's for you and that's all right. Whatever you choose to do, Lao Wen, I'll do it with you. You just have to trust me."

He'll tell Lao Wen the necessary details when he has to, or Lao Wen will find out when he does. Perhaps-- Perhaps, if Zhou Zishu can warn him in time, Wen Kexing will be able to face less troubles than Zhou Zishu did. Perhaps they'll face Ye Baiyi with less injuries, and be more prepared for Han Ying's arrival. Zhou Zishu's heart throbs with the recent grief, both of losing Han Ying and for the less listeral loss of the cousin he'd once pledged himself to.

"You're the only one for me in this life and the next." Is it too much? It might be too much.

He's going to have to have words with Zhou Zishu tomorrow, the man can't keep sending Wen Kexing spiralling with his earnestness. He's meant to be fierce, and absolutely not prone to weeping, and yet his eyes feel wet again. Fingers twitching, he huffs out a breath, the heavy sigh sounding like it's coming all the way from his toes.

"I trust you." He does, or he thinks if Zhou Zishu were to betray him then he'd have the right to, and that's close enough. "It's been me and Ah-Xiang for so long, if I let my guard down there are countless people waiting in the dark. Do you understand? It's just hard to change the way I've always been. I'll try, but you have to be patient with me."

His head lolls to the side, looking at Zhou Zishu again, "And what about the one after that? Do you think two lifetimes is enough for me, now that I've found you. You'll be my person even when I'm reincarnated as a worm, you might step on me so be careful."

Edited (wording ) 2023-11-07 12:53 (UTC)

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