[Completed]
BOOK 2 OF WHERE I BELONG
-A Modern AU-
Seven years after the painful separation from his former lover, Wei Wuxian had determined to leave his past behind, except that the life he settled for wasn't really perfect. He had made up his mind...
I told you, I'll fight those who hurt you. Now that I'm in the front line of the enemies, I'll die fighting myself.
-----------------------------
Content Warning: panic attack
Lan Zhan
<Wei Ying> Gonna be late. Have dinner without me.
It had been hours since I received this message and that was the last time I was able to contact Wei Ying. His phone was unreachable, my messages were left unread. I called Cheng and he said that Wei Ying left in the afternoon. Recalling that he sometimes gets late when he visits his sister, I called her to make sure. He hadn't gone there either.
I didn't realize before that a situation of this sort would drive me absolutely insane.
I have been reading a book . . . trying to read a passage for half an hour, in the too-quiet living room, waiting for a sound of a car with anticipation that felt physical. It must be ridiculous that I'm worried about a grown adult being a few hours late. But that expression he had in the morning had been haunting me. My instincts were telling me one thing, something is wrong, something has been wrong for a while.
The ringing on my phone has me reaching for it as if the world would end if I don't get it into my hand. I cut half my sigh of relief, too eager to answer. "Wei Ying?" the concern in my voice had made it unrecognizable.
There's a silence, then a broken breath. "Lan Zhan," it's his sweet voice, now hoarse and hazed. "You sound . . . worried."
"Where are you?"
A slurry chuckle. "At the studio."
"Are you drunk?"
"I'm fine," he sighs.
I'm not going to accept that answer anymore. "Wait there for me."
"I told you, I'm fine," he mumbles, clearly drunk, clearly not fine. What I couldn't believe is, that he expects me to let it pass when he gets worried about an occasional sigh I make.
"Wei Ying," I beg. "Stay there. Please."
After a prolonged silence, I hear a muffled sniff. "Okay," he says, thin and broken.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As always, the first thing that welcomes me when I step into the studio is its usual smell of wood and polish. The reception was dark except for a single light. The staff must have already left.
Walking into the control room, I make out the silhouette of the décor that had Wei Ying's guitar collection. A sheet of music was open on the computer, and through the glass wall, I could see him seated on the black hardwood on the other side.
I push open the soundproof door; Wei Ying looks up at the sound. He smiles, with a flushed face and red eyes, looking extremely worn out. "Hi," he says.
