happier than ever

do you read my interviews v.2. of happier than ever

"He's not your friend." The words flashed across the screen as Wei Wuxian swung his legs onto the hood of his car, a lollipop in his hands. The moment his eyes swept across the screen, his heart stuttered. "Lan Zhan?"

'Why is he texting me this?' Wei Wuxian wondered, continuing to suck on his lollipop. The engine thrummed beneath him, and he one-handedly typed out. What do you mean?

He's not your friend, Wei Ying. He hasn't been for a while.

The words stunned him for a while, but he rubbed his forehead and sighed. Are you sure?

Certain.

The seven letters played over and over in Wei Wuxian's head, hanging over him like a guillotine. Something about that struck a chord within him, but he was too afraid to voice it out, too afraid to believe it, even if it told him exactly what he'd suspected had been going on over the past few months. Still, dread filled him at the thought of it, and he pulled his fingers across the screen. Proof?

The text was sent almost immediately. Delivered. Wangji seemed stagnant for a while but the colour of the two ticks quickly changed. Read.

His heart stuttered at the lack of response, almost as if Lan Zhan just couldn't bear to type. Suddenly, three grey dots popped up, buzzing Ang buzzing. Hang on. I'll send it to you later. I'm in a meeting.

Wei Wuxian let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. 'That just means...it's not real, is it?' But something in him crept up, nauseous and suffocating. He tried to shake it off, but an uneasy feeling loomed over him like clouds, almost as if he knew but didn't dare to speak. After all, who would want to believe that their closest friend, their dear brother, would plunge and twist a knife in their back? Defeatedly, he slumped back onto his seat, draping his body over the battered cushions. Idly, he started playing with the crimson ribbon in his hair, pulling at it. Silently, his mind basked back to earlier thoughts. Hollow music played out from the radio, filling the air with deathly sweet tones.

Do you read my interviews, or do you skip my avenue? Memories of him driving through the streets with Jiang Cheng resurfaced. Of course, the other was always properly attired in a parka, with a purple scarf around his neck as he hopped out of the car, joy shining in his purple eyes. Ecstasy he hadn't seen in a while, at least not around him. In his mind, he was a chubby little child, gallivanting happily in the snow. Little Wei Wuxian stumbled out of the car, as excited though more subdued than Jiang Cheng, a crimson ribbon binding up his unruly hair. He remembered that day as if it were yesterday, the feeling of snow soaking through his clothes still entrenched in his senses, which were dulled by nostalgia.

But the adorable, chubby child, the loyal brother he'd once grown to love had since grown up, the baby fat on his cheeks now gone, replaced by a sharp jaw. Soft gaze replaced by a sharp, calculating gaze, just like that of his mother. Yu Ziyuan. The name still sent shivers down Wei Wuxian's spine, the same way the scar in his arm still throbbed after all these years. The angry red welt had long since faded, but it still hurt sometimes, on days he got too aggravated. Some would call it phantom pain, but Wei Wuxian didn't know what to make of it. At least, not anymore.

When you said you were passing through, was I even on your way? Nights spent outside with Jiang Cheng filled his mind's eyes, intertwined with visions of himself lying drunkenly on the floor, vomit spilling past his lips, as well as words he'd never have dared to utter was he sane. The familiar taste of nicotine and bubbling champagne tainted his lips, and he itched for a cigarette despite having crushed the habit a few months ago, ever since he'd started dating him. Nights spent drunk driving, all until that accident. Darkness blurred before him again in the brilliance of the day, even with the sun shifting through the cheap glass window panes of the car he'd bought, nothing like the expensive Ferrari Jiang Cheng owned.

For a moment, it was as if he were back in Shanghai, touring out the nightlife and nightclubs with no intention of settling down. Days spent guzzling alcohol and flirting messily, late night conversations that would eventually turn into nothing, all because he couldn't get thoughts of a certain someone out of his mind. The contents of his stomach felt wrenched again, almost as if it were twisted like a damp rag, and he almost wanted another bottle to down for his troubles.

I knew when I asked you to be cool, about what I was telling you, you'd do the opposite of what you said you'd do, and I'd end up more afraid. "Jiang Wanyin! " His voice skidded across the room, barely audible over the loud music that was blasting from the speakers. He felt grimy and slimy, tears running down his face, his clothes messy and disheveled. He ignored the bewildered stares he was receiving, quickly storming in front to meet his brother. "Why did you tell him? " He snapped, eyes blazing with fury.

But Jiang Cheng simply looked at him in mock innocence, eyes wide and open as if the words hadn't slipped out of his mouth, the damned secret. "What do you mean? I haven't done anything."

But the sly glint in his eyes told Wei Wuxian otherwise, along with the slight curl of his mouth. "You did this," he spat out. "You did this."

The word you was full of venom, and Wei Wuxian's grey eyes brimmed with fury, darkening to the point they almost looked light blackish crimson. The energy in the room shifted towards him, and an air of uneasiness and tension settled over the lofty attitude of the party. Resentful energy nearly swarmed towards Wei Wuxian, and he struggled to keep his temper under control. 'They can't know.'

"I didn't do anything." Wei Wuxian wanted nothing more than to wipe the self-serving smile off his shixiong, who was looking at him with eyes that were too wide to be innocent.

If glares could cut, Jiang Wanyin would have dropped dead on the ground in an enormous pile of blood, along with the crap he was full of. Still, his rage simmered down, especially with the light hand clasped on his shoulder. Slowly, he shifted into the familiar scent of sandalwood, letting it soothe his ocean of rage, lapping over one another in waves.

Finally, it simmered down.

"This isn't over." With that, he turned on his heel, heading towards the exit. By now the music seemed to have died out, the lights dimming. A heavy headache hit him, and something dulled his mind. But just as he was one foot away from the door, he heard a familiar whisper.

"It's not like you weren't going to tell him, the way you were draped over him like a whore."

The words hit him like dull blocks, thudding into place in his head.

Don't say it isn't fair you clearly weren't aware that you made me miserable....