Three months.

Three months of absolute agony.

Three months of loss.

Three months of desolation.

Three months of mourning.

Three months of bleeding over the guqin.

Three months of calling.

Three months of missing his lost soulmate.

Lan Wangji, Hunguangjun, the stoic and cold mass of a person, was desperate. He was determined. He was at a loss.

His love, his soulmate, his best friend, his lifelong confidant, was gone.

Out of his reach.

Wei Ying left only a sheathed sword in his absence. The sword Wangji cried over every single day when he wasn't playing the guqin; when he wasn't peeling through towns and people searching for the lovely red-ribboned man.

"Wei Ying, Wei Ying." He cried, clutching fiercely onto his chest right above his heart. He believes he looked unemotional and had driven away Wei Ying countless times with his ignorance and steeled attitude, but Wangji loves.

Wangji loves the man who owns his heart. Wangji loves the man who broke the ice shackles bound around his heart so steadfastly after the demise of his mother.

Kneeling on the floor of a tent at Qinghe, he cried out in agony, drowning in the sorrow of missing a piece of his soul; the most important piece of all.

He prayed while still on his knees on the floor. He prayed to whoever heard him. He prayed that his soulmate would be found from any source possible.

Wangji was guilty. He was guilty of not broadcasting his love. He was responsible of not expressing his emotions to Wei Ying beforehand.

He could have,

He should have,

But, he didn't.

Other than himself, who could he blame for his own ignorance, for not realizing sooner?

When Wei Ying was around, how many times had his own gege nudged him in the ribs? How could he not see that beneath his rage and frustration towards Wei Ying was something more; love and adoration for the man who melted his heart with his beautiful laughter and his mischievous ways? 

The man with a sunshine smile. 

The man who drank emperor's smile like a vial, elevating the numbers of his usual shenanigans.

The man who exists solely to bother him every second of every single day. 

The man who lives for the sake of others rather than himself.

The man he lost.

Three months was a long time and he was slowly losing all his hope.

"Wei Ying, where are you?"

"Lan Zhan..."

**Quite short but I think this will do.**
I'm being a weirdo and writing angst.

Ooh and I thought I could do requests. So if you do have any let me know. :-)