He takes a moment to steady himself, drawing a slow, careful breath, then another, reminding himself that Wei Ying is safe, sheltered in the circle of his arms.

"Xichen knows -- me," he starts. "We have always, always been close. More than most."

He finds he cannot speak of why, of their childhood, not here, not now. Not yet.

But he does not want Wei Ying to hate his brother. He has to try, somehow, to explain; to help him understand.

"He has always trusted me. Even when he did not understand. He would-- would have helped, if he could have. After--"

He cannot stop himself. His arms tighten around Wei Ying, as if afraid he will be snatched away, as he remembers those long months, that first awful year.

"-- he tried, and I - I would not let him near. He feared... I would do something, something rash--"