The Mad Ҡìղց

Lan Wanji's life. 17

"Wanji, you're smart, hardworking, and handsome," Wei Ying started, his voice softer than usual, his gaze fixed on the untouched drink in front of him. "I don't hate you, but I can't see you the way you want me to." The words seemed to weigh heavily on him. "I'm married, and everything you said about Victor the last time you came to my house—none of it sat well with me."

Across the small, dimly lit bar, Wanji leaned back in his chair, trying to mask the ache that had been growing inside of him for far too long. He knew this conversation would happen sooner or later, but he wasn't prepared. Not for this. He exhaled, his hands tightening around the glass of water in front of him.

"I'm moving on," Wanji replied, his voice steady, but even he could feel the falseness of the words. Deep down, he knew he wasn't moving on. How could he? Not when Wei Ying occupied every corner of his mind.

"I noticed," Wei Ying said, a faint smile playing on his lips. He tilted his head slightly as if considering the weight of their conversation. "And I'm grateful you haven't disturbed me or Victor." His smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was something unresolved hanging between them.

Wanji nodded in acknowledgment, not trusting his voice. His chest tightened as he feared that his voice, unlike the mask he wore, would betray the storm swirling inside him. He could feel the weight of the words he wanted to say, the emotions he wanted to scream, but he held them back—buried them deep.

"I'm sure there's someone out there for you, Wanji," Wei Ying added, his tone gentle, as if he were trying to offer a balm to a wound too deep to heal. "Someone who will love you wholeheartedly."

Another nod from Wanji. He knew Wei Ying was trying to be kind, trying to let him down easy. But it didn't help, not really. Nothing could when your heart had been intertwined with someone who never felt the same.

"Why him?" Wanji asked suddenly, the question slipping out before he could stop it. His voice cracked slightly, betraying the calm demeanor he had fought so hard to maintain. "Why Victor?"

Wei Ying's brows furrowed, but his smile didn't falter. "I don't know. I love him, and that's all that mattered."

That answer stung. Wanji wasn't sure if it was the simplicity of it or the finality, but it hit him like a punch to the gut. "Why didn't you tell me?" Wanji pressed on. If they were having this conversation, they might as well talk about everything. Every unspoken word, every moment of false hope that Wei Ying had unknowingly—or perhaps knowingly—given him.

"I did, Wanji," Wei Ying replied, his voice soft, but Wanji could feel a tinge of regret laced through his words.

Wanji shook his head. "You didn't tell me you didn't love me. You didn't tell me you weren't interested. You kept pushing me, giving me hope." His voice thickened with emotion, and he could feel the weight of all the moments where hope had led him astray.

Wei Ying looked down, clearly uncomfortable. "I honestly don't know. I wish I had told you then, and I'm sorry I didn't." He sighed, feeling the weight of his own regrets. "Call me young and foolish."

Wanji let out a small, bitter laugh and adjusted in his chair, his body tense with frustration and sadness. "Did you ever feel anything for me?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. He needed to hear it. Maybe hearing it would finally set him free.

Wei Ying's eyes searched his face. "Do you want me to be honest?" he asked, hesitating.

Wanji nodded. He couldn't take any more half-truths, not today. "Yes. Be honest."