Drunken Mistake

DM 51

Wei Wuxian tossed his phone onto the low table in his cramped apartment, the screen glowing faintly before fading to black. The faint clink of metal against wood echoed through the quiet room. He slouched deeper into the couch, his fingers tugging absently at the loose thread on the hem of his sleeve. His chest felt heavy, like he’d swallowed a stone, the weight of the exchange with Lan Wangji pressing down on him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

The silence was thick, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator. His mind wasn’t silent, though. It churned with unbidden thoughts, swirling like the aftermath of a storm. Lan Wangji hadn’t refuted the use of “my” when Wei Wuxian had referred to him—half-teasing, half-testing—in their messages. The lack of denial clung to him, a small, nagging thorn that refused to dislodge.

Did Lan Zhan truly see himself as A’Ying’s Lan Zhan?

His gaze flicked back to the phone, the ghost of their conversation lingering in his mind. He told himself it didn’t matter. Lan Wangji’s feelings for A'Ying —past or present—weren’t his concern not more than his acceptance of himself. And yet, the way Lan Wangji had signed his name—Lan Zhan—felt intimate, deliberate, as if there was something unspoken in those two characters.

Wei Wuxian pressed his palm to his forehead, kneading at the tension building there. His thoughts spiraled, tangling into a web he didn’t know how to unravel. Is this why he stopped calling me Ying’er? The name hadn’t come up in their conversation, and for a fleeting moment, he had felt relief. Then the realization had struck: If Lan Wangji no longer called him that, was it probably because he’d compartmentalized the current A’Ying into someone entirely separate from his beloved which was Wei Wuxian now?

The thought made his stomach twist. Is this closure for him? Wei Wuxian wondered. To acknowledge A’Ying and then excise that part of his life?

If that was true—if closure for Lan Wangji meant removing any trace of A’Ying from his heart—then what would happen when the truth came to light? He dropped his head into his hands, squeezing his temples as if he could press the question out of existence. When he finds out that I’m A’Ying, will he even recognize me as his Ying’er?

The thought was like a jagged shard of glass, sharp and cutting. It unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain. Almost two decades had passed since Lan Wangji had last seen A’Ying, and Wei Wuxian knew he wasn’t the same person anymore. The years had hardened him, shaped him into someone sharper, someone less willing to trust, someone who had learned to survive by keeping others at arm’s length.

Would Lan Wangji even want this version of me?

His laughter was bitter, hollow, as foreign to his ears as the pang of insecurity coursing through him. He had never doubted himself before—not like this. He was Wei Wuxian, after all—shameless, incorrigible, unflappable. And yet, here he was, spiraling into doubts over whether Lan Wangji would still see him as the person he once loved or if he would cast him aside as an imposter.

The sharp knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts. He blinked, disoriented, before forcing himself to his feet.

Another knock, more insistent this time. “Oi, are you alive in there, Wei Wuxian? Or should I call the morgue?”

He groaned, dragging himself to the door. He didn’t need to open it to know who it was. He unlocked it and swung it open to reveal Xue Yang, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and a smirk plastered on his face.

“Knocking on doors and knocking on nerves. A true talent,” Wei Wuxian muttered, stepping aside to let him in.

Xue Yang sauntered inside, his sharp eyes immediately scanning the room. “You look like you’ve been brooding. Let me guess. Lan Wangji texted his Ying’er, and now you’re spiraling.”

Wei Wuxian flopped back onto the couch, letting out a dramatic sigh. “What do you know about brooding? You’re too much of a chaos gremlin to understand deep, existential crises.”

“Please.” Xue Yang scoffed, grabbing a chair and spinning it around to sit backward, resting his arms on the backrest. “I know you. When you’re quiet for too long, it’s never good. So, spill it. What’s got you spiraling this time?”

Wei Wuxian scowled, but he couldn’t muster the energy to fight him off. “Lan Zhan,” he admitted reluctantly. “He messaged me. Said he’s sorry for the past. That he’s found someone he loves now.”

Xue Yang raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “That someone also being you. How does that bother you?”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Wei Wuxian snapped, though the heat in his voice betrayed him. “I’m just—thinking. About whether closure for him means forgetting about A’Ying completely. And if he wants to forget A’Ying, then where does that leave me?”

Xue Yang studied him for a moment, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “You’re overthinking it,” he said finally.

Wei Wuxian scoffed. “Oh, am I? Please, do enlighten me, oh great sage.”

Xue Yang leaned forward, resting his chin on his arms. “You’re hung up on whether he’ll see you as A’Ying, right? But what you’re forgetting is that Lan Wangji isn’t the kind of person to love halfway. If he says he’s sorry, he means it. If he says he’s moved on, he’s trying to. But that doesn’t mean he’s erased you—either version—from his heart.”

Wei Wuxian stared at him, caught off guard by the unexpected wisdom in Xue Yang’s words.

“Besides,” Xue Yang added with a smirk, “he’s not going to recognize you as A’Ying if you keep acting like some lovesick fool instead of the shameless, overconfident troublemaker I know.”

Wei Wuxian hurled a cushion at him, but the words hit their mark. He couldn’t let himself get lost in insecurity and doubt. He had always been Wei Ying, no matter what name he used. And if Lan Wangji couldn’t see that, then…

Well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

“Stop moping,” Xue Yang said, standing and brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. “You’re wasting time worrying about a problem that doesn’t exist yet. And if it does exist, well…” He grinned, a sharp, wolfish grin. “I’ll help you handle it.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at his lips. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” Xue Yang said breezily, heading for the door. He paused, looking over his shoulder. “Don’t let your head get too messy, A'Xian. Lan Wangji might surprise you.”

With that, he was gone, leaving Wei Wuxian alone with his thoughts once more. But this time, they didn’t spiral as chaotically. Instead, they lingered on Xue Yang’s parting words.

Lan Wangji might surprise me, huh?

Wei Wuxian stared at the phone on the table, its screen dark and unresponsive. He picked it up, his fingers hesitating over the keys. He didn’t send another message, not yet. But for the first time in hours, his heart felt a little lighter. Whatever happened, he would face it. And he would face Lan Wangji—not as Ying'er, not as Wei Wuxian, but as himself.

A/N Yes, a chapter dedicated to Wei Wuxian's insecurities and procastination.

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