Drunken Mistake

DM 38

That night, Wei Ying lay curled on his bed, his eyes swollen and heavy from crying. He tried to keep his sobs muffled, burying his face into the pillow, but the force of each choked breath made his body tremble. Outside, the storm showed no mercy, howling and battering against the walls, as if it, too, carried a weight it couldn't hold in. Wei Ying didn't bother closing the window he'd left ajar, even as rain gusted through, chilling the room with a damp, biting wind. He shivered, too exhausted to reach for the blanket folded at the foot of the bed. A small part of him wished the storm would sweep him away, end his restless tossing and the ache that felt unbearable.But morning came with a merciless clarity. His body, now leaden, resisted every movement. His eyes burned, and his head pulsed in a haze of heat. Groaning, he pulled himself up, his muscles stiff and aching. He couldn't worry Baba—he wouldn't. So he dressed slowly, each action heavy, like pulling against an invisible tide. He combed back his hair and stumbled down the stairs for breakfast, hoping his face wouldn't betray him.

Lan Huan was already seated, his eyes darting over the newspaper but constantly flicking back to Wei Ying. As soon as Wei Ying sat down, Lan Huan's brow furrowed, his gaze softening with concern.

"A'Ying..." Lan Huan leaned forward, his hand brushing Wei Ying's forehead. "You're burning up."Wei Ying forced a shaky smile. "It's just a cold. I forgot to close the window last night... made it worse, I guess."

Lan Huan didn't look convinced. "You should have mentioned it to Lan Zhan."

Wei Ying glanced down, pressing his lips together. Before he could answer, Lan Qiren's voice, steady and firm, came from the head of the table.

"You didn't tell us either," he said, his gaze penetrating.

"I didn't want Baba and Er Ge to worry." Wei Ying's voice was barely above a whisper, almost swallowed by the clinking of teacups. "I thought I could handle it, that it would pass. I'll take something for the fever after breakfast. It's fine."

Lan Huan exhaled, his concern sharpening into resolve. "I think it's more than a simple fever. Let's get some blood work done, just to be sure." He hesitated, offering an option. "If you'd prefer, I can draw it here and bring it to the university lab myself."

Wei Ying's shoulders slumped. "The second option, please... I don't think I have the energy to leave the house."

The day passed in a fog of fitful naps and barely eaten meals. Evening settled in, dim and oppressive, as rain battered the windows with renewed force. Lan Huan, gathering his coat, informed Lan Qiren that he'd be attending a friend's birthday party and would stay overnight. With a sense of duty, he turned to his uncle one last time.

"I'll be back as soon as I can tomorrow," he assured. "Meanwhile, Lan Zhan can look after A'Ying. He should be back for dinner."

Lan Qiren nodded, his gaze softening as he looked over at Wei Ying, curled under the blanket. "A'Ying, would you prefer to stay here or move to Jingshi? Lan Zhan be closer if you needed something."

Wei Ying managed a small, grateful smile. "Here's fine, Baba. If I need anything, I can always go to Jingshi."

As Lan Huan left, Wei Ying burrowed deeper into the covers, listening to the storm rage on outside. But he felt warmer now, knowing he had people who cared, even when he tried to hide his pain.

As the lunch hour approached, Wei Ying's stomach rumbled, a deep, insistent growl that made him press a hand against it. His mind drifted to Lan Zhan, the other half of his day, of his thoughts—how could he eat without him? With a sigh, he turned and made his way toward the Jingshi.

The corridors were quiet as he approached Lan Zhan's room, the space heavy with silence. As Wei Ying stepped up to the door, he noticed it was shut tight, the usual inviting light from the balcony obscured by drawn curtains. Something unsettled twisted in his chest. He hesitated, but then, remembering the "no locked doors" rule, he reached for the handle and pushed it open.

Inside, the room was dim, shadows draping over the figure kneeling by the bed. Lan Zhan's back was to him, his head bowed, shoulders taut. His posture was rigid—almost punished. Wei Ying's throat tightened as he took in the drawn lines of his friend's figure, the clasped hands, the air charged with pain and unspoken regret.

"What are you doing, Lan Zhan?" he whispered, alarm sharpening his voice.

Lan Zhan didn't look up. "You aren't welcome here."

Wei Ying blinked, a flicker of surprise making him take a step back, though he steadied himself. "I came to invite you to lunch," he said, his voice soft, almost coaxing.

"You aren't welcome here," Lan Zhan repeated, each word colder than the last.

Wei Ying's chest tightened, but he wasn't one to be deterred so easily. Taking a breath, he stepped forward, reaching out to tug on Lan Zhan's sleeve. "Come on. Let's just—"

But before he could finish, Lan Zhan's hand flashed out, catching his wrist in a firm, unyielding grip. With a strength Wei Ying hadn't expected, Lan Zhan twisted their positions, and in the next moment, he was gripping Wei Ying by the collar, his face a mask of restrained fury. "Which part of 'not welcome' don't you understand?" he hissed, each word like a shard of ice.

Wei Ying let out a soft, nervous laugh. "Lan Zhan, come on. What are you going to do—give me another hickey in broad daylight?" he teased, trying to break the tension.

But the joke struck a nerve. Lan Zhan's eyes darkened, and without another word, he dragged Wei Ying toward the stairs that led down to the basement. Despite his struggles, Wei Ying found himself stumbling as Lan Zhan released him, sending him tumbling down the steps. He barely managed to catch himself, his head spinning as he hit the cold floor below.

Above, the basement door slammed shut, the lock clicking ominously. Wei Ying's heart hammered as darkness closed in around him, shadows pressing in from all sides. His skin felt damp with the humidity, and the stale air made it hard to breathe. Panic surged, and he scrambled to his feet, pounding on the door.

"Lan Zhan! Let me out! Please, I... I'm scared," he called, his voice small, vulnerable. "Your Ying'er... he's scared."

From behind the door, Lan Zhan's voice came, muffled but sharp. "You're safer in there."

Wei Ying felt his heart lurch, confusion mingling with fear. "Safe from what?" he whispered, pressing his ear to the door, desperate for a hint of warmth, anything to hold onto.

"You don't know what's good for you, Wei Ying," came the response, cold as winter. "You need to stay far away from me."

Wei Ying's throat tightened as he whispered, almost pleading, "No, gege... you promised to make me yours. You said... you said Lans don't lie."

There was silence for a moment, as if Lan Zhan was struggling with something unseen, something that clawed at him from the inside. Then his voice, barely audible, slid through the door. "Some lies... some lies are better than truths."

A shudder ran through Wei Ying, the pain of those words like a knife twisting in his heart. "No, Lan Zhan, Lan er gege, Lans don't lie... I'm yours," he choked out, his voice breaking.He heard footsteps, slow and deliberate, fading as Lan Zhan retreated, leaving him in the silence and shadows. Wei Ying's vision blurred, tears mingling with the fever that began to creep up, burning under his skin. He sagged against the door, murmuring to himself as if it were a chant, a lifeline.

"Lans don't lie... Lans don't lie..." he whispered until the words slurred together, until he sank into darkness, lost in the cold and the memory of a promise he was terrified had been broken.