The Mad Ҡìղց

Lan Wanji's life. 2

Sorry is not enough. Do you remember the first time I told you I liked you? Wanji asked softly, his voice carrying the weight of years of unspoken feelings.

Wei Ying, seated across from him, looked puzzled. His brows furrowed slightly as if he was trying to recall a moment long buried in the past. His eyes, once so sharp and quick to catch on to things, seemed to betray a rare uncertainty.

Wanji didn't wait for him to respond, pressing forward with a soft but insistent voice, "I was 14. I had just lost my mom, and you said it was because I was grieving. That the feelings I thought I had were tangled up in the pain I was going through. But I told you it wasn't because I was grieving, and do you remember what you told me?"

There was a long silence, the kind that stretched across years. Wei Ying's lips parted slightly before he finally spoke, his voice quieter than Wanji remembered. "I told you to let me know if you still felt the same when you turned 18."

Wanji's eyes softened as a small smile ghosted his lips. The memory seemed to bring back a mixture of both fondness and regret. "And I was so eager to turn 18," he continued, his voice catching as if even now, he couldn't quite believe how young he had been, how filled with hope. "I remember waiting outside your house that night, just standing there, watching the seconds tick by until it was officially my birthday. The moment it hit midnight, I rushed in, excited, thinking this would be the moment you'd finally see me. But..."

He trailed off, his gaze distant now, lost in that memory. Wei Ying remained silent, his own eyes dropping to the table between them. He knew what was coming next.

"When I ran inside that night," Wanji said, his voice suddenly sharper, tinged with pain, "I saw you... with Delan. You were on the couch, kissing, completely lost in each other. I remember feeling like my heart was being ripped out. You told me it was nothing. That it didn't mean anything."

Wei Ying winced, unable to deny what he knew to be true.

"And I still told you," Wanji said, his tone softening but filled with that same unwavering conviction he had carried for so many years, "I still told you that I felt the same way I did when I was 14. And what did you do? You pushed me away. You said we should talk about it after college. So, I waited. You went off to law school, and I still visited you—twice a year. And every time I came, I never stopped telling you how much I loved you."

Wanji paused, his voice quieting to almost a whisper. "It's been 10 years now."

Wei Ying sat frozen, the silence between them growing unbearable, heavy with the weight of Wanji's words. Wanji looked at Wei Ying, trying to read his expression, hoping that maybe this time, after all these years, there would be something different in his eyes. Something more than the guarded look Wei Ying always wore when Wanji broached this subject. But there was nothing, just the same silent conflict, the same uncertainty, the same hesitation.

"I thought," Wanji said after a moment, "I thought by now, you'd realize. I thought maybe one day you'd look at me the way I've always looked at you."

Wei Ying's throat tightened, but he still couldn't find the words to respond. Wanji had always been so open, so honest about his feelings. The trust was that. Wanji was brilliant and handsome, but Wei Ying never saw him the way Wanji hoped. For Wei Ying, there was only friendship, nothing more. Wanji, sensitive by nature, couldn't hide his deeper feelings, and that tension made Wei Ying uncomfortable. He tried distancing himself, pushing Wanji away in hopes that his friend would eventually let go of the romantic affection. But the more Wei Ying retreated, the more difficult it became. Wanji's quiet longing remained, while Wei Ying only wished to preserve their friendship without breaking his heart. Yet, the distance between them continued to grow.

But Wanji hadn't changed. Or rather, his feelings hadn't. Over the years, as Wei Ying focused on school and later his career, Wanji had been this constant presence in his life. Always kind, always there, always reminding him—sometimes directly, sometimes quietly—that he loved him.

And yet, Wei Ying had never been able to reciprocate.

Now, 10 years later, that fear was still there, clinging to him like a shadow.

"I'm sorry," Wei Ying finally managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. He looked at Wanji, meeting his gaze for the first time in what felt like ages. "I... I never meant to hurt you."

"I know you didn't," Wanji replied softly. "But you did."

Wei Ying flinched at the bluntness of those words. He had hurt Wanji, unintentionally perhaps, but that didn't make the hurt any less real. For years, he had strung him along, never giving him a clear answer, always asking for more time, more patience. And Wanji had given him that—given him everything.

Wanji looked down at his hands, fingers twisting nervously together. "I used to think that if I just waited long enough, you'd come around. That maybe one day, you'd wake up and see me the way I see you. But now... I don't know anymore. I don't know what I'm waiting for."

Wei Ying's chest tightened at those words. The thought of losing Wanji—of losing this friendship, this connection they had built over the years—filled him with a sense of dread. And yet, how could he keep Wanji waiting for something that might never happen?

"I don't want to lose you as a friend," Wei Ying said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Wanji smiled, but it was a sad, tired smile. "You already have."

The words cut through Wei Ying like a knife, sharper than anything he had expected. For the first time in years, he felt the weight of all the moments he had let slip away. The nights Wanji had stood outside his house, the visits to his law school, the countless times Wanji had tried to talk about his feelings only for Wei Ying to push the conversation to a later date that never seemed to come.

"I don't know what to say," Wei Ying admitted, his voice shaking. "I've always cared about you, Wanji. I always will. But..."

"But not in the way I want you to." Wanji finished for him, his voice soft but certain.

Wei Ying nodded, unable to meet Wanji's eyes.

Another long silence stretched between them. Wanji leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment as if trying to gather his thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, but there was an underlying finality to it that Wei Ying had never heard before.

"I don't regret telling you how I felt all those years ago," Wanji said quietly. "And I don't regret waiting for you, either. But I will keep waiting, Wei Ying. I will keep holding onto this hope that maybe, someday, you'll feel the same way."

Wei Ying's heart clenched. He wanted to say something, anything to make this moment less painful. But what could he say? Wanji had already given him more chances than he deserved.

"I love you," Wanji continued, his voice breaking slightly. "I want you so bad I'd give anything to have you."

Wei Ying felt a lump rise in his throat. He wanted to tell Wanji to stay, to keep waiting, to give him just a little more time. But that wouldn't be fair. Not to Victor, and not to himself.

"I am married, you should let go," Wei Ying whispered.

Wanji stood up slowly, his movements deliberate. He looked down at Wei Ying, his expression sad but resolute.

"I'll always care about you," Wanji said, his voice steady despite the tears shining in his eyes. "But I will keep living in this in-between space, maybe you'll  feel something someday."

Wei Ying swallowed hard, trying to keep his own emotions in check. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice cracking.

"I know," Wanji said softly. "But sometimes, sorry isn't enough."

With that, Wanji turned and walked away, leaving Wei Ying alone at the table. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the quiet room, and as the door closed behind him, Wei Ying felt a hollow emptiness settle into his chest.

For the first time in 10 years, he realized that he had truly lost a friend.