I Have GOT To Pick Better Habits [semi-closed post]

[summerdude]

The zombies are gone, the bodies are healed, the Magnus is exhausted. He's had an extremely strange few days. First, everyone else seems to start unloading their entire hearts at him -- unexpected! But pretty cool! -- and then he wakes up to zombies.

It really gets him thinking, is the thing. He's been practicing swordplay daily since arriving, sparring with people or against Jack, trying to keep a hand in and not let his mediocre skills atrophy. He's also been exercising in new-to-him invigorating ways, learning new stuff, meeting new people...

He likes it here. He really, really likes it here. He misses his friends back home more than words can possibly express, but if he went back to Valhalla right now, he'd miss the people here, too, some of them even equally as bad. And he doesn't want to subject these people all to Valhalla -- it's really not for everyone -- but he also can't figure out how to bring all his people here. Jack still can't rip through the barriers between worlds here like he can anywhere else in the Nine.

He likes it here... and it's becoming abundantly clear to him that he doesn't want to fight all the time anymore. The zombies have made it really, stunningly clear how much he doesn't miss Battle Practice or dying all the time. The rest has clued him into how much he likes learning new things, and talking to different kinds of people, and figuring out who he is when he's not constantly in crisis all the time, zombies aside.

But liking it here so much feels kind of like a betrayal? Especially after all the specific, deliberate choices he's made to stay in Valhalla with his people. And this sobers him, a little, blunting the rough edge of the adrenaline that's still coursing through his body.

His thoughts are distracting and, thusly preoccupied as he walks through the halls in the vague direction of his room, a shower, and a nap, he absently reaches out and returns Jack to pendant form...

And immediately passes out.

[Post intended for anyone who will be particularly upset by Magnus passing out xoxo]]

Comments

[lightbearinglord]

With some care, Lan Wangji relaxes his hold, though he doesn't let go. It is just enough that he can look properly at Magnus, serious as he always is as he accepts that promise. It eases him a little, and despite his weariness and the grimness of the preceding days, his expression is terribly soft in its solemnity.

[summerdude]

"Hanguang-jun?"

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji does not actually answer aloud, but there is a small shift in his expression that speaks to attentiveness. It serves as his version of asking, Yes?

[summerdude]

"I know you said not to say sorry to you," Magnus says. "So instead I'll say thank you." He indulges himself and his discovery of his growing comfort with physical touch by resting his cheek against Lan Wangji's shoulder. "You're really great." He kind of wishes... but that's dumb.

[lightbearinglord]

The weight of Magnus' head on his shoulder is a sweet small comfort, and Lan Wangji takes a slow breath. His chest aches, just a little. There is truly no reason for Magnus to thank him, either, but Lan Wangji accepts it. "It is my pleasure."

[summerdude]

"That, um." Magnus blinks. His eyelashes feel heavy, damp against his cheek. He stifles a yawn. "That disciple of yours that you told me about is really lucky."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji has to shut his eyes. Sizhui is old enough now to get by without his supervision, and they have been apart for longer stretches than this. Lan Wangji, improbably, trusts the Ghost General to care for him in his absence. And yet not a day has gone by without Lan Wangji thinking of him, longing for him and hoping that he is well.

It does Magnus a disservice to compare the two of them. They are not the same person. Magnus is more talkative, quicker to laugh and quicker to cry, not so honed by years of Cloud Recesses discipline or by half-forgotten years of every Wen uncle and auntie passing him around the rocky soil of the Burial Mounds like the most-beloved sack of radishes in the place. His pains are his own, and the people he has lost cannot be replaced by one cultivator who has known him for a handful of weeks.

Still. Lan Wangji carefully draws in another breath. He flattens a hand between Magnus' shoulder blades, cognizant of the strength and fragility of him, the shape of him caught between childhood and adulthood. "Sleep," he says gently, punctuating this directive with a single kiss dropped to the top of Magnus' head.

[summerdude]

Magnus doesn't, though; he's distracted by the kiss and by the thought that he hasn't really had an adult in years. Sure, he's maybe old enough not to need one, now, and he hasn't really been in the market for one in ten years, but also... Hearthstone and Blitzen are great, and he loves them, but now that he's an einherji they're more friends than his inexplicable street-uncles, and they've never been touchy-feely, just attentive and helpful.

It's only now, being held by an adult-shaped adult who feels like a real adult to Magnus -- rather than a god, or an ageless einherji, or someone who's just a friend and who maintains careful friend-shaped boundaries -- that he lets himself acknowledge that he wants one. Even his dad is at a remove: Magnus may be semi-immortal now, but dead demigods don't make it into legend as beloved children of their parents. Frey is a better dad than the rest of the gods, but he can, at best, be described as 'occasionally helpful, and with a calming aura.' Frey might have the best, most peaceful and summery energy of anyone in the world, but that doesn't mean he's involved.

Lan Wangji's energy is different. It's no less peaceful -- there was a reason Magnus wondered, briefly, if he might be a god of peace -- but it's cooler. Quieter. Less eau de unbridled natural growth. More... steadfast, and reliable, and committed, and sharp, like curling up with a good book on your favorite bench on a beautiful winter day.

Magnus is a decisive guy, when it comes to picking his people. He's been a little slower about it in the past six-odd weeks, because the shorthand he's grown familiar with (battle companion/comrade in arms, helpful on a quest, runs away from certain death with him) is so much harder to parse here. He's picked Galahad, though; even though they spar somewhat regularly (read: Galahad wipes the floor with him over and over while Magnus tries to learn), Galahad is the first friend he's made since childhood without any kinds of prophecy-strings attached. He's picked Shen Yuan, too, and he's pretty sure he's picked Gu Xiang even though her friendship is a lot more like the ones he has with his hallmates (he loves, and misses, his violent and unpredictable hallmates). He likes almost everybody he's met, except Lancelot; he doesn't even have particular issues with Luo Binghe outside of the weird dream thing. He's pretty sure he could pick any of them. All of them, even, once he starts to relax into figuring out his role here better.

He's picking Lan Wangji. He doesn't have to tell him yet; Magnus knows he moves fast when he makes up his mind about something. He does wish there was a term, for an uber-adult who is an adult to you even though you're grown up too, who's soft and holds you when you're sad and strokes your hair and actively listens to you ramble instead of thinking about his own things. He knows what he wants that word to be, too, even though he's had bad experiences with most of the people who fit into that label before: family.

He keeps it to himself, this bright hope that's been kindled in his chest, burning away some of the darkness of the day. He snuggles against Lan Wangji's chest. Family, he thinks, trying the word on like an old well-worn sweater, seeing how it fits.

[lightbearinglord]

Magnus doesn't sleep -- Lan Wangji would be able to tell -- but he does settle, and that will do for now. His breaths are slow and steady, his limbs all neatly tucked into Lan Wangji's lap. There is a certain base comfort in that, in having Magnus enfolded entirely within his arms, like a confirmation that as long as Lan Wangji has him, he will be shielded from the things that have hurt and disappointed him. The things that have killed him. If Lan Wangji has his way, that will never happen again.

After the death of his mother, Lan Wangji shut himself away. His brother worried, and said so, but made no insistences. If a night-hunt came calling, Lan Wangji answered. Otherwise, it was himself and his books and his qin and his cold, silent, unoccupied heart. Wei Ying shattered it open, in defiance of every one of Lan Wangji's defenses, and then left him aching, and then laughed at a marketplace in Yiling and told Lan Wangji that the small, hot, grubby body clinging to his leg liked him. Lan Wangji told A-Yuan to be quiet at mealtimes, and A-Yuan nodded with wide solemn eyes and obeyed, Wei Ying sputtering with indignation in the background. Lan Wangji should have known then that he would never again be able to shutter himself against this or any other kind of love.

Lan Wangji is not stupid. He can read people, not always but often. When Magnus accused him of neglect, no longer summery so much as fiery, the tears in his eyes and the absolute earnestness of him spoke to the empty places within his own heart. The people who were meant to care for him have let him down. That, too, will not happen again.

Lan Wangji sighs, very quietly, and relaxes where he sits. He will hold Magnus until sleep comes for him.

[summerdude]

It's hard, for Magnus to get himself to settle down, even with Lan Wangji holding him. He feels limp with the exertion of the day, but now that he's been roused from his post-Jack pass-out, he's still wired with it. But he wants Lan Wangji to think well of his effort, so he closes his eyes and tries. And at least if he's focused on calming himself, he won't do something silly, like blurt out all the thoughts bubbling up underneath the surface.

But something important -- more important than joking that he got it right the first time, actually; a maybe-parental figure did answer his prayer to his dad -- occurs to him. "Will you help me?" he asks, quietly, not wanting to interrupt the hush surrounding them. "Think of other paths?"

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji's answer is slightly slow to come, only because it takes him a moment to rouse his thoughts out of his increasingly meditative breathing. Once he has registered the question, however, it is of course an easy response. "Whatever you need."

[summerdude]

Magnus nods. He kind of feels like crying again, not because he's sad, but because he's relieved. "I'm really glad I know you."

[lightbearinglord]

Feeling dangerously fragile with affection, Lan Wangji rubs the hand at Magnus' back in a slow circle, palm still flat to his spine. "I am glad to have met you, too."

[summerdude]

Magnus yawns. He has so many questions he wants to ask Lan Wangji -- what age he should consider himself to be, if he can stay here a little while longer, if Lan Wangji will teach him about cultivation, if Lan Wangji has guidance about how to tell your boyfriend you love him -- but maybe that can wait till later. Lan Wangji isn't going anywhere, he's pretty sure.

[lightbearinglord]

"Sleep," Lan Wangji says again, a little more firmly this time. "You are safe." He doesn't care to make promises he cannot be sure of keeping, but this one he believes he can.

[summerdude]

"Okay, Hanguang-jun," Magnus says. He encourages himself to relax further. He doesn't put much stock in other people telling him he's safe, generally, so that particular statement doesn't ping, specifically, for him. But Lan Wangji is safe, in a way that adult-shaped adults who feel like adults rarely are, and so Magnus feels it, deeper than the words he's saying. Magnus can sleep here, held like this. It'll be good. Restorative. He wants to. He--

--nods off.

[lightbearinglord]

Magnus sleeps, and Lan Wangji rests. He doesn't sleep himself, because he said that Magnus was safe and because he intends to see that through. He keeps his eyes open and he breathes, holding Magnus. He has been, until this night, on the precipice of something irreversible. Now he has jumped willingly over that edge, and it's as Lan Wangji said himself, compelled to speak the truth: I have also never known how to take back my love once it is given away.

For a shichen or more, he sits, unmoving aside from each deliberate breath. Magnus breathes, too.

With time, Lan Wangji must reluctantly admit that a bed will serve as a better place for a teenager to rest after a long battle hard-fought, and that he has a husband who is expecting him and who is feeling fragile himself. Careful to jostle Magnus as little as possible, he stands, cradling Magnus in his arms. He is observant. He knows where most of the residents' quarters are, provided the mansion does not indulge in excessive mischief.

A subtle gesture of two fingers opens Magnus' door, but then Lan Wangji pauses. It is too cold in here -- too cold for anyone, but especially too cold for Magnus. There is broken glass on the floor. Remaining careful to move only the fingers of one hand, to leave Magnus undisturbed, he uses his qi to gather up the glass and send it flying far out the window where it will shatter harmlessly into infinitesimal pieces across the grounds. The window itself will need repairing later, however.

For tonight, Lan Wangji will find another bed. There is an unoccupied room across the hall: nondescript, but undamaged and warm. He pulls the covers of its bed back and arranges Magnus beneath them, removing his shoes gently for him as well. He will get dirt and grime on the bedding, but that is irrelevant. Finally, Lan Wangji pauses and looks at the sleeping boy before him. Magnus needs to know he has not been abandoned afresh. Lan Wangji removes the jade token from his waist and sets it next to Magnus' head on the pillow.

[summerdude]

Magnus wakes up in a dark, unfamiliar room, alone. The comforting memory of Lan Wangji holding him for hours stays the swelling disorientation and fear, so while he sits bolt upright, breathing heavily, the breath doesn't catch in his throat.

That's when the heavy jade token slides from the pillow and knocks into his hand. He picks it up, gripping it, willing himself to calm down. This room is dark, which is good, and close, which is not. He stands up, finds his shoes, and slips into the hallway.

Someone has cleaned the glass from his own room, but the window yawns open, its jagged edges scented with the faintest tinge of blood from some cut he must have healed before he even realized it happened at all. The room feels... bad. He clutches the jade token more tightly, giving himself the space of a few minutes to take everything in and think through his options.

Then Magnus is leaping into action. He takes a long, hot shower, scouring the dust and grime from his skin and his hair. He waters his plants, and then scrawls a quick note to slap on the door -- a request for others to check in on them over the next few days. He dresses, simply, in a green t-shirt and jeans. Then, finally, he grabs the go-bag from under his bed -- a habit from his time in Valhalla, back when Loki had just escaped.

He can't stay in this room right now. The cool, slick surface of Lan Wangji's jade token feels good in his hand. It feels like a hug; like being loved; like the way his mom would sling her arm around Magnus's shoulders when they came to their favorite clearing in the Blue Hills and point silently at a baby deer nosing through the underbrush, or the smile Hearthstone would get in that first year Magnus was homeless, whenever he found a new source of food, or the expression in Blitzen's eyes the first time Magnus picked out an outfit at his store to wear when taking Alex on their first real date.

Even that comfort can't drown out the sense of danger Magnus is getting from this room, now. This room where he first saw the zombies; this room where he leapt from the closest exit like an einherji marching to Ragnarok.

He shoulders his go-bag, and tacks the 'please help my plants!' note to his door, and leaves it ajar.

Standing in the hallway, barefoot, wet hair soaking into the thin fabric of his t-shirt, Magnus hesitates for a moment. Jack is sleeping, currently, on his chain; he can feel the vibration. He doesn't want to wake Jack up, and even though Hanguang-jun told him he could find another path, it's probably not smart to strike out without any form of protection. He leaves Jack in pendant form, but he does unlatch the necklace so he can slip Lan Wangji's jade token onto it, too. When he puts the necklace on again, it's much heavier. The token rests, warm, against Magnus's chest, close to his heart. It stays there, comfortable and impossible to ignore, as Magnus slips out of the Mansion and into the woods.