Sen benden gittin ve ben artık sana değil, senden kalan izlerime ağlıyorum. Eğer bir yerlerden duyarsan gözyaşlarımı, bil ki sana değil. Sen kendini önemli hissetme. Sen yok oldun, sen hatırlanmaya değmezsin. İzlerim kaldı, onlar hep benimle ve acıdıklarını hissettiğim her an ağlıyorum. Ama yine söylüyorum, bil ki ağlamam sana değil.
23 : 38
Sadece bu gün hissettiklerim..)
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“Could you…” says Huaisang as they dress. “Could you not wear that one?”
He watches Lan Wangji blink, arm still raised where it had been fixing his hair in place with a hair-stick. Slowly, Lan Wangji’s eyes narrow and his fingers tighten around the accessory. He’d always been a little contrary, despite what everyone believes. Always needing to ask ‘why’.
“You don’t have to think so hard. I don’t mean anything by it,” Huaisang says, adjusting the collar of his lover’s robes. “I just think that it doesn’t suit you very well after all. I don't know what I was thinking when I chose it.”
He carefully slides the jade hair-stick out of Wangji’s bun, replacing it with simpler guan; a pale wood with a carved dragon. It had been a gift from Lan Xichen for one of Wangji’s birthdays.
Huaisang tucks the jade one that had been his gift into his sleeve while Wangji still has his back to him. “There,” he says. “Much better!”
He does a quick scan of the room before they leave for the morning meal, ostensibly looking for his shoes, but mostly cataloguing the other items in Lan Wangji’s home.
It would not do to leave behind reminders of his presence for Wei Wuxian to find later on, after all. He would misunderstand.
“Huaisang,” says Lan Wangji, holding out his boots to him.
Huaisang smiles up at him. “Thank you,” he says, ignoring the way it echoes in the aching hollowness of his chest.
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