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Wei Wuxian tugs at the ribbon.

The cloud pattern is starting to fade after so many months of him rubbing his thumb across the fabric and getting it wet, but he can’t bring himself to stop touching it or even untying from his wrist. This has been the only piece of Lan Wangji he’s had close to him since he left eight months ago on tour while Lan Wangji stayed in their home.

“You’ll see him soon,” Wen Qing says from her seat, not even bothering to look up from her phone.

Wei Wuxian sighs and then whines, “I know, but I miss him.”

“We know.” Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “We had to listen to you whine about it the entire tour.”

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Wen Qing lifts her gaze only so she can glare at him. Wen Ning, for his turn, gives him a sheepish smile that says he wants to agree, but can’t.

“We understand,” Wen Ning assures him. “Anyone would miss their husband.”

As much as Wei Wuxian would like to, he can’t exactly pack Lan Wangji in his suitcase and travel around with him whenever he, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning go on tour with their band, Burial Mounds. His husband has his important job at his fancy university and Wei Wuxian wouldn’t even think of asking Lan Wangji to quit. But he misses him, so much, all the time! Not even the late night video calls and early morning texts are enough to soothe Wei Wuxian’s heart.

That will change soon, though.

That’s what Wei Wuxian holds on to as he buckles his seat belt and rights his seat, listening to the warnings as the plane gets ready to land. He tugs at the ribbon one more time, much like Lan Wangji did for him the night before Wei Wuxian left. Wei Wuxian can still remember the soft press of Lan Wangji’s lips to his pulse, over the ribbon, and how those lips brushed against his after Lan Wangji was done.

Wei Wuxian really misses his husband.

“I’ll see him soon,” Wei Wuxian murmurs to himself.

Lan Wangji must be waiting for him at the gates by now, ready to take him home. Wei Wuxian loves touring with Burial Mounds , but he also loves staying at home with his Lan Zhan and their bunnies. Wen Qing and Wen Ning are his best friends and Wei Wuxian loves them, but they aren’t Lan Wangji.

No one is Lan Wangji.

No one could ever compare to Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian can’t wait to see him!

“You sure you don’t want a ride anywhere?” Wei Wuxian asks after they’ve dealt with their luggage and their team is ready to head to their homes to rest at the end of a successful tour. 

A few fans stopped them for pictures after recognizing Wen Ning in his useless disguise of pulling his hood up, but Wei Wuxian doubts there’ll be a crowd waiting for them outside. Their return wasn’t publicized in any way. In fact, they were only set to come back next week.

“There’s a car waiting for us,” Wen Qing tells him. “Manager booked it a few days ago.”

Wei Wuxian nods and they say their goodbyes. They’re sick of each other after spending nine months together, so after a wave to Wen Qing and a pat to Wen Ning’s shoulder, he’s off. He walks maybe a little faster than usual through the gates, dragging his suitcase after him, but no one would fault him for it.

Wei Wuxian isn’t just running for the sake of running. He’s running to his husband . Lan Wangji who, just like Wei Wuxian thought he would, is right there waiting for him.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian yells despite himself, rushing to him.

Lan Wangji catches him when Wei Wuxian throws himself at him, arms wrapped firmly around his waist, and hugs him close. Wei Wuxian breathes in his sandalwood scent and finds himself relaxing.

Lan Wangji is here.

Wei Wuxian is home.

“Missed you,” Wei Wuxian murmurs against the side of Lan Wangji’s neck.

“I missed you too, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian shivers. How he missed Lan Wangji’s voice.

“I kept the ribbon,” Wei Wuxian says when he pulls back so he can show Lan Wangji his wrist.

Lan Wangji smiles at him, small and soft and sweet. “Mn. Did it help?”

Did it help those nights Wei Wuxian missed him so much he could cry? 

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian admits. He rubs a thumb over the fabric again before lifting his hand and rubbing the same thumb over Lan Wangji’s bottom lip. “Isn’t better than you, though.”

Lan Wangji nuzzles in close. “Wouldn’t think so.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. “Take me home?”

Lan Wangji does.

Wei Wuxian keeps the ribbon, still tied to his wrist, but he needs no mementos when he has his husband close.