#weiilin

from here 

3, goodbye; 17, to distract; 26, as an apology; 28, as a lie; 38, because they’re running out of time.

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Grabbing A-Yuan had been instinctual once the fighting had broken out- though fighting was a rather generous term. Wei Wuxian knew the Wen remnants, his new family, his people, wouldn’t stand a chance without him there, but the truth of the matter was he had the sinking feeling they wouldn’t stand a chance regardless.

They were outnumbered, ten thousand to one it felt like, and the onslaught would not stop until he was dead. Although he would fight tooth and nail to defend what he’d sworn to protect, what he’d worked so hard to build, he couldn’t allow a small child to be caught up in the battle.

If he could guarantee the survival of at least one life, he would do whatever it took.

A-Yuan fussed and struggled in his grip at first, confused as to why they were running away from home when their family was screaming and strange men were storming the mountain. Wei Wuxian merely held him tighter to his chest, covering his ears however he could, drowning out the sounds of battle with his own heartbeat. 

The air burned his lungs as he breathed, an all too familiar feeling he’d tried so hard to forget. To think Jiang Cheng had been beside him the last time his home had been set on fire, only to be the one burning it now. 

But there was no time for reminiscence or regret. He could deal with all that once he faced Jiang Cheng again. Right now, he had to find a place to hide...

Salvation came in the form of a hollowed-out tree trunk, the bark scorched and flaking off. The space was just big enough to hold a small child, and Wei Wuxian knew it was this or nothing. He could only pray the tree did not re-ignite with A-Yuan still inside.

Crouching down, he placed A-Yuan inside the tree, but found him clutching desperately to his robes once he tried to move away. Their eyes met then, A-Yuan’s sweet little round face brimming with concern.

Wei Wuxian felt himself falter, if only briefly, as he cupped the child’s face in his hands. A-Yuan brought one hand away from his robes in favor of holding his hand to his cheek.

“Xian-gege?” He asked, his tiny voice weak and quivering. 

Wei Wuxian’s heart broke then. This child knew nothing of what was happening, he understood nothing of what was to come, but he knew it was bad and he knew Wei Wuxian was trying to leave him behind. 

“Listen to me closely,” he whispered, knowing he only had minutes, perhaps seconds, “everyone is in danger, and I need to go back and help. You have to stay here where it’s safe- don’t come out until you can’t hear anything anymore. Okay? Not until everything is completely quiet.”

“I can help too!” A-Yuan quickly insisted, his hand once again flying out to clutch Wei Wuxian’s robes. “I can!”

The sound of blades clashing seemed to get closer. Wei Wuxian could not risk dragging this out, even though this was by far the most painful thing he’d ever done. Forcing a smile, he stroked A-Yuan’s cheeks and nodded.

“You can, you can help me by staying right here.” He brushed some hair away from A-Yuan’s face, making sure he was snug within the tree trunk with his eyes solely on him. “That’ll be the source of my power. With you in this tree, I can’t lose.”

A-Yuan didn’t seem convinced, and who could blame him? But Wei Wuxian was out of options. Out of options and out of time. 

“You’ll come back?” A-Yuan’s eyes filled with tears as he tried to process being left behind, left alone.

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian lied, and in that moment it was the easiest lie he’d ever told. A-Yuan stopped crying, his eyes now gleaming with a hopeful spark. “I’ll come right back to bury you with the radishes.”

A-Yuan gave a little giggle and slowly let go of Wei Wuxian’s robes, but he immediately reached for him again when he began to pull back.

“But you have to promise,” Wei Wuxian gently pried A-Yuan’s hands away, “that you’ll stay here until all the fighting stops and you can’t hear a thing. No matter how long it takes.”

It wasn’t fair. They hadn’t had enough time together; if he’d known, he would’ve spent less time teasing the little boy and more time spoiling him rotten. He would’ve told him bedtime stories every night, he would’ve carried him on his shoulders every day, he would’ve even made him his own little Chenqing to chew on.

It was absurd to be thinking such things when A-Yuan wasn’t even his own son. He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself, but the love he felt for the boy was so strong, so unconditional, that mentally calling himself his father almost felt natural- but it only made this moment hurt all the more.

Though A-Yuan was clearly scared and unsure, he wanted to help Wei Wuxian, and he believed him when he said he’d return for him. That lie was what made him agree. “I promise.”

I should’ve watched you grow up. The thought pierced Wei Wuxian’s heart as he instantly gathered A-Yuan in his arms and kissed his forehead. 

I should’ve raised you. He forced himself to place A-Yuan back inside the trunk and kissed his little hands, his cheeks, his nose. 

He never wanted to forget this child, nor did he ever want to be forgotten by him. He never wanted to forget the love A-Yuan had caused to bloom within him, amidst the rage and hatred. I should’ve done better. 

The heat was unbearable now, as were the screams ringing through the air. Wei Wuxian could only hope A-Yuan stayed true to his word as he closed his robes up tighter.

“I’ll be back,” he lied again, though he hoped against hope that it wouldn’t need to be a lie, “and we can go find you some new toys, okay?”

“I’ll wait,” A-Yuan nodded sleepily, the commotion having exhausted him. “Until everything is quiet...”

Wei Wuxian leaned forward to give A-Yuan’s forehead one last kiss. He pulled back after feeling a tiny hand to his cheek; if he stayed any longer, he’d never leave, and all would have been for nothing.