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allthelittlecreepycrawlies · 11 months

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Okay, so. This is the first of the broken twitter threadfics. The reasons I picked it to post are A) it broke at a relatively good ending point, and B) I was doing this as an experiment to see if I could keep myself from planning out where a story was going to go before writing it, and twitter's fuckery effectively kneecapped that. So, here it is!

----------

(“Why can’t you be more like-”)

A month before he’s supposed to attend the lectures, Nie Huaisang is nowhere to be found in the Unclean Realms.

In his wake are a pair of boxes for his brother and Meng Yao, each of which contains a cheerily biting note that since they each clearly want him to become the other, he’s giving them what they’ve always wanted!

Each other.

Without him in the middle.

Meng Yao is unnerved by this sudden disappearance, but anyone he mentions it to, Nie Mingjue included, just rolls their eyes.

it's a bratty tantrum, nothing more.

Huaisang will be back by dinner, complaining of being hungry.

The rest of the day passes.

Then another.

Then a week.

The time for Huaisang and the other disciples his age to leave for the Cloud Recesses comes and goes, and still no one knows where he is.

An uncomfortable heaviness develops in the air inside the fortress.

Everyone can tell that everyone else is worried, but nobody will broach the subject because Nie Mingjue (though clearly the most worried of all) is stubbornly refusing to discuss it.

When a letter comes from Gusu asking why Nie Huaisang never arrived for classes even though Nie Mingjue was adamant he would keep attending until he passed, it gets crumpled and tossed into the fire without a reply.

Meanwhile, whatever sort of relationship Huaisang thought his brother and Meng Yao were forming based on the weird backhanded praise of each other/putdowns towards him doesn't happen.

It's too awkward.

Both retreat entirely into bland professionalism and if a topic doesn’t have to do with work, they don't bring it up.

(Meng Yao doesn't understand why Huaisang was convinced he was pushing to get close to Mingjue in such a manner. Huaisang knew about his plans to eventually join his father, what could possibly make him believe-?

But with Huaisang no longer there to be a distraction while he's working, he finds his brain replaying certain events, and gradually starting to see them from a different perspective.

And… he doesn’t like what he sees.

For all he'd claimed repeatedly to be a neutral party in the brothers’ arguments, he... wasn't.

Even on the occasions that he was personally more sympathetic to Huaisang’s side of the matter, he'd always pushed him to be the one to back down and give in. Be an obedient little brother.

Behave.

Which... he can't be blamed for that, surely.

As much as Huaisang liked him, Huaisang wasn't his primary employer. it made logical sense that-

-No.

That's where he'd gone wrong.

He should have either truly remained neutral by telling both brothers it wasn't his place to get involved, or he should have told Huaisang why he felt compelled to take Nie Mingjue’s side so often.

But instead, he'd willingly taken up that center role, and then-

Ah.

What a mess.)

—

As the days of the summer and early fall tick by, Meng Yao finds himself... keeping an eye out.

Not searching (no one will admit to doing that, especially not Mingjue), just... hoping.

Huaisang has always despised winter and what it does to his health, surely once the weather starts to change for the worse, he will-

Huaisang still doesn't come back.

(It's getting harder and harder not to dwell on how much he misses Huaisang.

How much of a mistake he made.

He should have-

If only he had-

His… his friend is gone.

Now he only has coworkers.

And while he gets along with... most of them fairly well nowadays, it isn't the same.

It isn’t the same at all.)

—

They have been monitoring the movements of the Wen sect day in and day out, but it still catches them by surprise when it isn't inside their borders that the first blatant act of war is committed.

Meng Yao goes out among the scouts to make sure they are well-supplied with flares and messenger tokens and everything else they will need to keep the flow of information strong.

(He does not say that he is looking for Huaisang, but he does not have to.

He does not find Huaisang, but he does bring home Mingjue's friend from the Lan sect, bruised and filthy and exhausted.

He decides he likes Lan Xichen well enough, but-)

When the envoys from the Wen sect come to demand their heir, it is the first time Nie Mingjue says out loud, to anyone, that they don't have one.

For the briefest moment, Nie Huaisang is no longer a ghost, as every present member of the sect flinches.

Their visitors do not.

Meng Yao is the only one who catches that they seem to have expected this answer.

He doesn't like that at all.

And when he tells them later, as they help the disciples who have volunteered to go pack what little they are being allowed to bring, Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen like it even less.

(That night, Meng Yao hears the door to the room beside his unlock for the first time in over a year.

He curls himself into a ball under the blankets and pretends not to hear anything after that.)

—

A week after their disciples have made it home after escaping from the indoctrination camp, (at the same time that Lotus Pier is burning), Meng Yao has gone out with the scouts again, this time with a disguised Lan Xichen among their numbers-

-He wants to find his brother. Neither Nie Mingjue nor Meng Yao can begrudge him that, not when they are still-

-and they overhear a loud scuffle and heated voices-

"He fucking bit me! just slit the little bitch's throat already!" "You do it! And then you can explain to the boss why and see what that gets you!"

"Let him go! He hasn't done anything!" "Stay out of it, or you can die in his place!"

The source of the fight is several men in white and red robes crowded around an unseen figure as villagers yell from the sidelines.

One moves to the right, just long enough for Meng Yao to glimpse-

It’s-

His whole body goes cold.

It's-

He moves without thinking, a borrowed sword in hand. He doesn't hear Lan Xichen's startled warning, but it doesn't matter, as the other man immediately follows.

When he comes back to himself, there are five dead men on the ground and Nie Huaisang has thrown himself to his feet to run-

-from them, just as much as he'd probably tried to escape the Wen.

Spell music keeps him from getting more than a few steps before he drops into a heap right next to a sorry mess of bloody black feathers that has an arrow sticking out of it.

The old man who'd done the most yelling looks like he might be ready to do more, and Meng Yao, still feeling numb and sick and a hundred other things, manages to regain himself enough to reassure him that they have no intention of harming-

harming-

It hits him that he has no idea what Nie Huaisang was calling himself here.

Here, a tiny backwater village so close to the border between Qinghe and Qishan.

The complicated and messy swirl of emotions becomes distant... muted. He's still dizzy, but in a way that's like looking at the ground from up high.

The fight took place in front of a book copy shop-

"-er, yes, he does," the old man says, making Meng Yao realize he'd just asked if this person whose name he doesn't know works there.

Ha.

The only thing in the world that Nie Huaisang had ever hated as much as saber training was being forced to duplicate texts and rules and notes-

-and he's here.

Working and living in some nondescript copy shop.

Lan Xichen is saying something, and then the old man is speaking again, but Meng Yao comprehends none of it. Other Nie disciples have arrived and need to be caught up to speed, but he-

He pushes his way into the shop, and then up the back stairs to the living quarters above it.

There are only four small rooms and it's easy to tell which one is-

-was-

-is Huaisang's because it's the one that has three little wooden perches-

-clearly built of scavenged branches, they are still the most well made things in the room-

-arranged by the window and the door.

There is no wardrobe, just a couple of shoddy-looking boxes. The bed is... serviceable, which is the nicest word he can come up with. There is no wash basin, nor privacy screen. The shade over the window is so thin it would practically be useless in winter. A teapot and cup that look like they could crumble any moment sit on a tiny table that isn't in much better shape.

Meng Yao... has been in this room before.

Maybe not this specific room, but this room.

It's the same room he lived in during every stop between the brothel and Koi Tower, between Koi Tower and the Unclean Realms, paying for what rest he could get by offering up his education or labor.

And this room...

This room is where...

His fingers clench on the door frame.

He inhales slowly, though whether to keep from laughing or throwing up, he isn't sure which.

Oh... they had so badly underestimated how much resentment and hurt their failed -misguided- attempts at incentivization had brewed within Nie Huaisang.

Nie Huaisang had been a boy who despised rote routine work, who loved soft and comfortable things, who always needed to be surrounded by people and animals for companionship, who got bitterly sick every time the weather turned cold.

And yet he had been living in this room, with a job doing what he hated day in and day out, and only the one bird that had undoubtedly been shot out of the windowsill by a Wen arrow for company.

He can't help but wonder if Huaisang had chosen this life specifically because it was so antithetical to everything the sect knew about him; because they'd never think to look in a place like this.

Or if he had just decided that even this was preferable to letting anyone think he'd been cowed into crawling back home.

Meng Yao is still nauseous when he stumbles back down the stairs to find the others waiting for him and Nie Huaisang, still unconscious from the spellsong, lying in the back of a small wagon the disciples have procured.

"There was nothing worth bringing," he says in response to one man's question, and ignores Lan Xichen's query as to whether or not he is well.

It's already been decided that he will be the one to take Nie Huaisang back to the closest camp, while the disciples will fly to the primary one further south to alert Nie Mingjue that his brother has been found.

Although he knows he's been picked because his sword flight is still unsteady, he is fine with it.

If anyone else had offered -or demanded- to take the wagon, that would be another story.

Except for Lan Xichen, who has brought back the horses he and Meng Yao had been using to avoid being seen on their swords, the others take off once the Wen corpses have been moved away from the buildings and burned.

(Meng Yao probably should have supervised that, being the sect leader's aide.

But that would have meant moving away from Nie Huaisang, and he…

He just can’t-)

They hitch the horses to the wagon. Before he climbs up into the saddle, Meng Yao takes off his cloak and wraps it around his-

Not his-

His young master.

(How funny that, almost two years ago, he would have been the one who needed it more.

How funny that, almost two years ago, Nie Huaisang would have had more than one and would have offered them all with a laugh and a gentle tease.

How funny that-)

If Lan Xichen notices him wiping his eyes as they nudge the horses to start down the road, he is kind enough not to mention it.

—

By the time they reach the camp, the spell song has worn off, but Nie Huaisang still sleeps-

-and he does still sleep. Meng Yao's judgment may have been in grievous error in one painfully important category, but he can still easily tell when Huaisang is feigning in order to be left alone-

-heavily enough that his only reaction to being picked up by Lan Xichen is to pull the borrowed cloak tighter around himself like a turtle trying to shrink into its shell.

"I'll make the report to the camp commander after taking him to the main infirmary tent," Lan Xichen says.

'Because I don't think you'd want to leave him alone long enough to do it,' Meng Yao hears. He nods, trying -badly- to hide his relief at the offer.

As they enter the tent, one of the medics turns to greet them, then his eyes go huge.

"Is that-"

"Not one more word," Meng Yao cuts him off, a little more sharply than he'd meant to. "No one is to find out he's here before Zongzhu arrives, got it?"

The medic's mouth closes with an audible snap, then he recovers his composure and nods, gesturing to an empty cot.

The results of the ensuing exam are... roughly what Meng Yao expected… because they are very similar to his own the first time he'd been ordered into a tent to have his medical baseline set when he’d joined the Nie camps.

Except for the lungs.

He is sitting close enough that he doesn't need the medic to tell him the soft, pained-sounding wheeze is not good.

Again, his thoughts and his stomach begin to twist and tangle around the reversal of their fortunes and the dozens of other little itchy thoughts. His fingers tighten on the edge of the camp stool he's sitting on and he has to squeeze his eyes shut and just focus on inhaling-

-and exhaling-

-until the knots loosen up enough that he no longer feels like vomiting.

Prying one hand away from his seat, he reaches out and takes hold of Nie Huaisang's colder one.

When the first big winter storm had arrived and Nie Huaisang had not arrived with it, he had started to have dreams that were uncomfortable in more ways than one. Even now, gently rubbing his thumb over the other young man's ink and dirt-stained fingers, memories-not-memories from them flicker through his mind.

He has no idea how Nie Mingjue will react to his brother's reappearance, but no matter what his sect leader decides, he can't-

-won't-

-can’t let Nie Huaisang disappear again.

Even, he thinks as he lifts those cold fingers up to breathe warmth onto them, if he has to refashion an aviary into another kind of cage.

—

It is just past nightfall when he hears the flutter of activity outside the tent.

It is a familiar enough clatter to both of them that the noise makes Nie Huaisang stir.

(He wants to be the first person Nie Huaisang sees.

He wants to try and smooth things over before-

He wants-)

But there isn't enough time, and it's more important that he-

He steps out of the tent right as Nie Mingjue is approaching.

He bows to his sect leader, but keeps the tent flap held closed behind him.

When he doesn't move aside, the faint scowl on Nie Mingjue's face deepens and he raises an eyebrow in a familiar expression of 'What do you think you're doing?'

"Zongzhu," Meng Yao replies to the unspoken question. "Will you hear my report first?"

His words are deferential, holding none of the direct defiance that his position does, but the combination of the two is enough to give Nie Mingjue pause, his expression shifting from annoyance to curious concern before he nods.

Meng Yao keeps it short, but painfully blunt, emphasizing where and how Nie Huaisang had been living, and how close to danger and for how long.

"I would not be so presumptuous as to give you directions on how to handle this. But he was already prepared to bolt from-" me "-us as if we were just as much of a threat as the Wen. I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say that if you storm in there and immediately start dressing him down, then-" unless you let me lock him away "-it will be the last time you ever see him, let alone get the chance to talk to him,” he finishes quietly.

Then he steps aside and lets go of the tent flap.

Although he doesn't want to leave, he knows that if they -even accidentally- give Huaisang the impression that they are immediately falling back into the old pattern, this will be a disaster.

So he forces himself to walk away from the tent.

He should really see about acquiring food anyway. Though he'd had some travel rations on his person, he hadn't been able to make himself eat since they'd found Huaisang, and Huaisang-

The many ways their fortunes have been reversed hits him again, and he swallows hard to keep from bringing attention to himself by hysterically laughing... or something even more embarrassing.

Okay.

Food.

Concentrate on that.

Though it grates on him to do so, he purposely takes the time to eat his own meal at the kitchen tents, even dragging it out a little longer than normal.

Just as he finishes eating, he finally catches a glimpse of Nie Mingjue headed towards the main command tent.

His sect leader's expression is tense, but not angry or panicked. His tone, from what Meng Yao can hear, is a little sharply clipped, but there is no real bark to the orders he's giving.

Meng Yao will take those as good signs.

Collecting a tray of simple dishes and jars of pressed juice and water, he heads back to the infirmary tent where he'd left Huaisang.

He doesn't find Huaisang there-

-he's fled, the fight was worse than anticipated, they won't-

-but is relieved to find he's only been moved to one of the smaller side tents. It's fine- it's good, even. Fewer people will see him this way.

Huaisang is sitting on the little cot he's been given, facing away from (him) the entrance. He's huddled under one of the spare blankets, the cloak Meng Yao had wrapped him in folded up and laid on the end of the thin pallet mattress.

(That bothers him.

Sits in the back of his brain like another little itch.

"Why don't you want- it, Huaisang?" bubbles up in the back of his throat, and he has to force it back down.)

"I owe you an apology," Huaisang says suddenly, surprising Meng Yao into looking up from the small camp table he'd been setting up for the food.

(His voice has become as small as the rest of him, Meng Yao's mind notes with a discomforting mix of emotions. Small and rough and raspy- is it because the reunion with his brother brought tears with it? Or is that just how he sounds now? Does he really want to know?)

"Whatever for?" Meng Yao asks after shoving all that turbulence into the little chest in his mind to join the rest of it and pretending it's not going to be overstuffed and refuse to close soon.

"I never paid attention to how hard your job was. I just made it worse."

He finds himself glancing at those ink and dirt stained fingers again, now clutching the edge of the blanket so tightly.

Reversal of fortunes.

Some little part of him is satisfied by the recognition, of the acknowledgment, but the rest-

if this is the result of another fight- if this apology was somehow forced by Nie Mingjue-

He bites his tongue for a moment to quell the swell of unexpected irritation. "There's nothing to apologize for in that regard. At most, you could be exasperating on occasion… but more often than not, you were the only one reminding me to care for myself," he says, reaching over to pick up the folded cloak and wrap it around Huaisang's shoulders over the blanket.

Better.

He looks much better with that (mark of possession).

"I have no idea how many times I forgot to stop for a meal or any other necessities without you there to insist."

The mention of food earns a sharp, unmistakable growl, and Huaisang ducks his head as he huddles deeper into the borrowed blanket and offered cloak, his unbound hair doing little to hide his expression of uncomfortable embarrassment.

Reversal of fortunes.

Once upon a time, Nie Huaisang had offered him clothing from his own wardrobe and food swiped from the kitchens and Meng Yao had struggled to politely decline out of fear that bounds were being overstepped and he would be the one to get in trouble for it.

Now however... now, he understands.

Whether or not Huaisang had felt the same possessiveness back then that Meng Yao is grappling with now is an interesting, but ultimately unimportant, question.

But he understands.

And, just as Huaisang once had, he will not allow refusal.

He takes a seat on a little stool across from Huaisang and offers one of the dishes he'd brought, a fairly simple combination of steamed rice, roasted chicken, and greens with only a little bit of seasoning.

Even though growing up in Yunping had given him a fairly high tolerance for spice, he remembers all too well how much it had hurt to eat too much good food at once after months going on the minimum, and he has no desire to make Huaisang similarly sick.

"Don't rush. We've got time."

Nie Huaisang's mouth presses into a thin line, like he might disagree with that judgment.

Curiosity lingers hot and fuzzy on the back of his neck-

-what had the brothers said to each other?-

-but he swats it aside and merely waits.

He will not risk scaring his young master away by pressing him for information so soon after getting him back.

Hunger eventually wins over discontent, and Huaisang reaches out to accept the food.

He eats in a stilted, almost wooden way that is so very alien to how he used to be, but so very familiar to Meng Yao. It is another addition to the list of things that he wants to- will fix.

Huaisang's hair falls back into his face as he hunches over the bowl, and Meng Yao finds himself impulsively reaching to brush it back.

Huaisang flinches at the contact, and they both go still, staring at each other, Meng Yao's hand still outstretched.

He should pull back.

Give space.

He doesn't want to.

But no matter how much their situation has changed, their nominal statuses dictate he must.

Just as he starts to withdraw, however, Huaisang lets out an unsteady breath and tilts his head just enough to maintain contact.

Without a single spoken word, it's a lonely plea and an apology and forgiveness and so many other things rolled up into a little ball of bruised and battered emotions.

It makes Meng Yao almost dizzy, and he can't contain the smile that blooms on his mouth as he indulges in what he's been offered, sweeping his fingers along Huaisang's cheek to tuck his hair back behind his ear.

All too quickly, however, the flutters of almost-giddiness fade as he remembers their situation is still hanging precariously on a thread as thin as spider silk.

But any discussion of what will happen next for them can -will have to- wait until the food is gone.

They fall into an awkward silence as Nie Huaisang finishes the bowl of food and a jar of water. He quickly looks away when he realizes Meng Yao has caught him eyeing the second dish with apprehensive longing.

"Here," Meng Yao says, offering one of the jars of juice instead. "It won't be as heavy on your stomach."

Nie Huaisang hesitates, the expression on his face unreadable as he looks at it, then at Meng Yao-

-Meng Yao wants to ask, he wants to ask, he can’t ask-

Then he takes it from Meng Yao's hands and tilts it up to swallow a mouthful.

Meng Yao unconsciously mimics the swallow.

there is something-

-something-

-one thing that still eats at him, but he is struggling to let it out of where he's kept it caged in his chest.

He is very, very good at offering apologies as a matter of politeness.

He has never been as good at offering apologies out of sincerity.

"Gongzi-" he starts only for his voice to die in his throat when green eyes regard him over the rim of the jar.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Try again.

"I... I have missed you, Huaisang," he says.

It is not what he intended to say.

It is not what he was supposed to say.

It's an entirely different but equally difficult level of vulnerability; one he hadn't been trying so hard to hide because he'd never expected it to attempt escape to begin with.

He had recognized too much of himself in this changed Huaisang, and that familiarity had momentarily lured him into a false sense of… of…

His first instinct is to take it back.

Cover his too-exposed heart with his usual deferential politeness, smile and offer a more neutral comment.

"I missed you too," Huaisang says quietly before he can do any of that.

Meng Yao exhales sharply, the air punched out of his chest as surely as if Nie Huaisang had buried a fist into the soft spot below his sternum, and he has to look away before he can let it show how starkly he has been affected.

He is still pulling himself together when he sees one of the captains who'd been accompanying Nie Mingjue earlier poke his head into the tent.

The man looks around for a moment before his gaze lands on them, and he gives a quick jerk of his head in a silent demand.

Meng Yao hesitates.

As emotionally fraught as this had just become, he doesn't want to leave. They still have that-

-that one thing that they have to talk about, and if he leaves now, they might not ever-

"Better go," Nie Huaisang says, and when Meng Yao turns his head, his young master is once again wearing that expression Meng Yao cannot decipher.

Meng Yao bites the inside of his lip, then reaches out and squeezes the hand not occupied with the jar. "I'll be back soon," he says.

Nie Huaisang salutes him with the jar, the gesture too flippant for the look in his eyes.

Meng Yao again finds himself wondering just what the brothers had said to each other.

But he does not ask, instead getting up to follow the captain away from the infirmary and towards the tent where Nie Mingjue has temporarily taken up residence until he returns to the main camp.

—

Meng Yao frowns as he finishes reading the missive his sect leader has handed him.

It is not the fact that Nie Huaisang is being sent back to the Unclean Realms that bothers him. Even if he were in better health, the time he's spent away from the sect has made him even less prepared for a fight. it's better for him to go- to go home.

No, what bothers Meng Yao is the escort being sent with him. Only two guards, both only weeks out of no longer being classified as juniors, and a single healing assistant- not even a full-fledged medic.

He knows that this wouldn't be enough of an escort for someone the Wen wasn’t even looking for, let alone someone they had already made a kidnapping attempt on.

Suddenly, Huaisang's too-bland attitude and strange reactions make more sense, if this had been one of the things the brothers had discussed.

(What had they said?

What had they said?

The prickle of curiosity has become a gnawing, but still he squashes it.)

He rereads the missive twice over before it finally hits him.

This is another manifestation of the-

Not once had Nie Mingjue ever officially sent out search parties, or discussed his missing brother, or- or-

(But Meng Yao, much as he'd pretended otherwise, very vividly remembers that midnight breakdown in Nie Huaisang's abandoned room.)

A sect leader preparing for an inevitable war couldn't be seen as soft or weak by the enemy, nor his own.

A sect leader in the middle of a war couldn't be seen as soft or weak by the enemy, nor his own.

Nie Mingjue might have sorely missed his brother, but he also clearly believed that extending more than the barest minimum would be read as special treatment. Coddling, even.

No matter how much this particular situation warranted a stronger approach.

Meng Yao understands the politics of appearance all too well, so he gets it. He does. That doesn't stop him from wanting to beat his head against the table in frustration.

Stubborn.

Gods, both of them are so-

He takes a deep, slow inhale, then lays the paper down. "What are you going to do if this posturing for your men gets your brother killed?"

Nie Mingjue goes rigid, the line of his spine completely straight.

The captain he was talking to is a smart man; his eyes go wide for the briefest moment, and then he turns around and walks out of the tent without a word.

Meng Yao is acutely aware he's just stepped into dangerous territory. A few years ago, he never would have let that question escape his mouth. Instead, as soon as he’d finished reading the missive the first time, he would have immediately gone to cajole Huaisang not to make a fuss about the orders.

Well, look where that had gotten them.

"The only reason we found him at all is because Wen Ruohan had somehow figured out where he was first,” he presses.”And yet you're risking sending him right back into the jaws of the tiger to-"

Nie Mingjue's hands clench into fists at his sides.

Though the man has never so much raised his voice in Meng Yao's direction, the memories of all the shouting matches between the brothers make him involuntarily take a step back.

But Nie Mingjue, apparently remembering his earlier advice, does not yell, though the curt, emotionless tone of the words "The orders will not be changed," is almost worse.

This bullheaded-!

Realizing he will get nowhere, that the fact there had been no shouting between the brothers this time really was the only concession Nie Mingjue had been willing -or perhaps 'been able' was the better description- to make, Meng Yao leaves him standing alone at the table of maps and missives and walks back to the infirmary.

At the very least, he should make sure that Huaisang has warmer clothes for travel than the ones they found him in.

–-

Nie Huaisang and his pittance of an escort are up and ready to leave before dawn, hoping to get some ground covered while only the enemy’s night scouts are still on the hunt.

Nie Huaisang doesn't make a peep of complaint about having to get up so early for what amounts to boring work, which only drives the knife of how much he has changed deeper between Meng Yao's ribs.

(He knows Huaisang has to go.

He wants him to stay.

He wants to go with him.

He wants-)

"Hu- Gongzi, may we speak?" he asks quietly.

Huaisang stops pretending to not be watching his brother out of the corner of his eye and turns his attention to Meng Yao, then nods.

Meng Yao's mouth suddenly goes dry under the quiet intensity of that green-eyed stare, but he gathers his nerves back together and ties them down tight.

"I... I owe you an apology as well. You were right that I was only lying to both of us when I claimed not to be taking sides in your arguments. I should have stayed out of it. I'm... I'm sorry."

There.

He has said it.

It is hardly the most eloquent apology he has ever given, but... again, sincerity is much more difficult than politeness.

But it also seems to have been more effective. Huaisang blinks at him in surprise, tilting his head like a startled bird... then he takes hold of Meng Yao's hands and smiles.

It's small, unsure, almost as if he's forgotten how to do it. but it's there, and-

"Thank you," he says, and "Apology accepted."

Ha.

Okay.

Meng Yao does not embarrass himself by tearing up in front of everyone, but he comes close. He squeezes the hands holding his, ruthlessly smothering the sudden urge to kiss too-cold fingers

-or do something more-

-then steps back and lets go.

He doesn't watch them leave.

Neither does Nie Mingjue.

—

It has been six days.

Even though he has remained diligent to his responsibilities as the sect leader’s aide, Meng Yao's mind keeps being distracted by the map he has drawn in his mind.

Even on foot, even if there were a few small delays here and there, Huaisang and his escorts should arrive at the unclean realms by the next morning, so when sundown arrives, the nervous tension that's been humming through his nerves finally starts to ease…

And then, right in the middle of dinner, Nie Mingjue suddenly jerks as though he's been shot with an arrow.

Meng Yao, Lan Xichen, and the small knot of disciples present all see the color drain from his face as he rips a talisman out of the collar of his inner robe-

-and when Meng Yao sees the deep splotch of red blooming across the paper, his own heart drops.

It's a bloodshed talisman.

And they all immediately know who it has to be tied to.

Meng Yao has never seen a human move so fast in his entire life.

Nie Mingjue is already in the sky on Baxia before any of the rest of them are out of the tent. Even Lan Xichen can't catch him before he can no longer be seen in the darkness.

Meng Yao inwardly curses his own faltering cultivation that leaves him unable to keep up with the others, but at least his mental map means he won't get lost because of the lag.

He just hopes-

He lands in the middle of a maelstrom of clashing metal and screaming horses, more than a little bewildered by the number of moving and dead bodies in the forest clearing.

How the fuck had this many Wen managed to get this deep into Qinghe territory? Their scouts should have caught them long before-

No matter. His sect leader and the others would deal with them.

He has to find-

There are two figures in green and grey lying among the more numerous white and red. The first, he immediately identifies as the medical assistant -(dead)- and the other-

He rushes over and pulls a semi-conscious Nie Huaisang up onto his knees. The younger man is sluggishly bleeding from his nose and a second blow to the head that has bruised most of the right side of his face, and his wrists are also raw and bloody from struggling out of the ropes lying under him.

"Yao-ge? When... Where did...?" he asks in a disoriented slur.

(Later, Meng Yao will allow himself to be thrilled by the return of the endearment.)

For now, he jerks Nie Huaisang out of the way of a falling Wen horse and then drags him towards the treeline. They're almost out of the fight zone when a sword whistles past, barely missing taking off Meng Yao's ear.

Fortunately, its owner hits the ground dead before he can call it back to try again.

With that last death cry, the clearing goes silent, they and the disciples and Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue all staring at each other, almost dazed from the wearing off of the battle adrenaline.

Then Nie Mingjue crosses the clearing with almost the same superhuman speed as before and jerks Nie Huaisang out of Meng Yao's hands, wrapping his brother in an embrace so tight that Nie Huaisang can't help letting out a small squeak of protest.

—

There is never a verbal apology.

In fact, neither brother says a word during the (unsettlingly) short flight to the Unclean Realms.

But neither of them lets go of the other for the entire flight either, and Meng Yao supposes that has to be enough for them.

(He desperately hopes that it is enough for them.)

The first time Nie Mingjue puts his brother down since that first desperate grab is when they land inside the courtyard, and even then, he has a solid grip on Nie Huaisang's shoulder.

"Finally," Meng Yao hears a feminine voice mutter from amongst the staff who came running at their unexpected approach, before others immediately shush her.

He bites his tongue to keep from smirking, but he hears a couple of the disciples with them have to choke back laughter.

It is indeed a relief to finally have at least one of the many sources of tension in the realm eased.

Though there is now another in its place, as he notices Nie Huaisang glance around warily, already growing stiff and uncomfortable in the place that hasn't been his home for some time now.

This won't do.

"Zongzhu," he says, mindful of how to balance the situation now. "Perhaps it would be best for everyone to rest before any discussion of important matters."

"...Right," Nie Mingjue mutters awkwardly, then moves to dismiss the small crowd.

He still hasn't let go of Nie Huaisang.

#mdzs #cql #mixed canon #jin guangyao #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #lan xichen #sangyao #sorta not yet #fanfic

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