He pauses only briefly, when Lan Zhan's breath hitches, to ensure he did not accidentally bump one of the fresh injuries on his back. Only when he is certain Lan Zhan isn't in pain does he continue.
The tangles of the previous night's exertions give way beneath the comb, little by little. Wei Wuxian hums softly as he works: sometimes a snippet of melody he makes up on the spot, sometimes a line from one of Harrow's songs. Once, even, something he vaguely remembers from his excursion to London Above.
When he is done, he sweeps Lan Zhan's hair forward over his shoulders to lay his back bare. Very gently, he presses a kiss to one of the scars high upon his shoulder blades, lingering, eyes closed.
no subject
The tangles of the previous night's exertions give way beneath the comb, little by little. Wei Wuxian hums softly as he works: sometimes a snippet of melody he makes up on the spot, sometimes a line from one of Harrow's songs. Once, even, something he vaguely remembers from his excursion to London Above.
When he is done, he sweeps Lan Zhan's hair forward over his shoulders to lay his back bare. Very gently, he presses a kiss to one of the scars high upon his shoulder blades, lingering, eyes closed.