Chapter Text
The clock on the wall is four minutes slow. The second hand lags once it gets to the bottom and then jolts back up ten seconds later, but it doesn’t land in the correct spot. It makes an annoying clicking sound, and every time it clicks, Wei Wuxian’s eye twitches. You’d think with the amount of money his sister is paying for him to be here, they would be able to replace a stupid clock. It’s not even ten minutes into group, and his senses are already overwhelmed. He leans back in his chair, pulling his hood over his head and closing his eyes. The hood doesn’t really do anything to block out the noise, but it’s fun to imagine that it’s creating a physical barrier between him and that fucking clock.
“Wei Wuxian, would you like to add something?”
Lan Xichen’s voice washes over Wei Wuxian’s body, pulling him from his thoughts. His thoughts? No, Wei Wuxian wasn’t thinking, he was just trying to keep his mind blissfully blank. If his mind is a void, he can’t think of something stupid or impulsive to do.
“Sorry, what were we talking about? I must have dozed off.” He gives a weak chuckle, trying to keep his voice light.
“We were discussing mindfulness techniques, specifically taking inventory of your surroundings, and how they can be of aid in stressful situations. I believe you mentioned a clock?” Lan Xichen has such a nice, smooth voice. It’s deep, but not unsettlingly so, and it has a fullness and a richness to it. Wei Wuxian wonders if he’s ever sang before. Would he be a bass? No, his voice is a bit too high for that. Definitely not a tenor, either. Baritone, maybe?
“Wei Wuxian?”
Yeah, baritone. Does Xichen have a nice head voice, or are lower notes easier for him to hit?
“Wei Ying?”
Shit, he’s staring again. Wei Wuxian shakes his head, his vision zooming back out to bring the rest of the room into focus. A few of the other people in his group are staring at him. Great. He’s only been here a week, and they already think he’s crazy. So far, he’s only said a total of three sentences in group, and one of them was his introduction. The other one he said just now. He guesses he should count that as progress.
“Um, sorry. Yeah, I guess the clock counts as something.” Jeez, why does he sound so awkward ? Speaking is never this difficult for him. Normally, he can talk a person’s ear off within minutes, and now it’s almost impossible to string five words together.
Lan Xichen smiles, apparently it was enough for him. “Yes, it does! Taking note of its position in the room, as well as its color, are helpful observations.” He gets up from his chair and moves to the whiteboard on the wall behind them. There are already a few things written on it; different “mindfulness” techniques and how to use them.
We Wuxian stares at the board; Was that here yesterday? Or did it just get here today? He stares at the board, brows furrowed. No, it wasn’t here yesterday. Yesterday it was just the chairs and the small bookshelf containing some kids’ games and puzzles. Someone must have brought it in before their session.
Lan Xichen finishes up writing on the board and sits back down again. “Alright! I would like all of you to practice these techniques for a few minutes before we continue. You have two minutes.”
Two minutes.
Wei Wuxian looks up at the board again; he hadn’t been paying attention to the other mindfulness activities, so he’s going to try the last one. It should be easy enough, just look around the room.
White walls. Grey carpet. Blue chairs. Old clock. Whiteboard.
Wait, should he be taking the other people in the room into account, or just the objects? There are six other people in the room, so he should probably include them.
He’s been in this group for a week, and so far, he’s only learned two of their names. He’s sure the other ones have introduced themselves, but he can’t remember them. Granted, he should be happy he’s even remembered two because for most of the week he’s been in a haze, his senses fuzzy with long stretches of pure blackness in his memory. Today has been the first real day of being aware of his surroundings, all thanks to that stupid clock.
The two names he does remember are Mo Xuanyu and Xiao Xingchen.
Mo Xuanyu had freaked him out at first due to the fact that they bear a striking resemblance to each other. Wei Wuxian had thought he was hallucinating at first, but once he got a closer look (and over his rising panic), he saw that Mo Xuanyu was shorter than him, his features a little less masculine. Pretty. Mo Xuanyu is pretty, with delicate features and a soft-spoken voice. Evidently, their resemblance was unnerving to him as well, because the look of shock on his face didn’t leave him for the majority of group. After that first day, they’ve been avoiding each other’s eyes.
From what Wei Wuxian can tell, Xiao Xingchen is also very attractive, he has nice bone structure and a cute nose. There was only one thing that threw Wei Wuxian off when he first saw him - his eyes. Or rather, his lack of eyes. At least, he assumes he doesn’t have them. Xiao Xingchen has bandages wrapped around them, and confirmed that he is, in fact, blind. He hasn’t said if he still has his eyes, but judging by the bandage, Wei Wuxian is going to assume he doesn’t.
Maybe he should only stick to one of them, so he chooses Xiao Xingchen. He appraises him, taking in every detail. He starts with the bandages covering his eyes; they are white gauze, perfectly wrapped one layer on top of the other, giving the illusion that it’s only one layer. His hair is straight, with his bangs brushing the top of his brow. His hoodie is a soft sky blue, and his pants are white. There, that should be enough.
White walls. Grey carpet. Blue chairs. Old clock. Xiao Xingchen.
He repeats them over and over in his head until Lan Xichen’s chipper voice brings Wei Wuxian back to himself.
“How did everyone do? Would anyone like to share what they’ve observed?”
Two of the people whom Wei Wuxian can’t name raise their hands. He tunes them out; he’s exhausted his mental capacity for the day. Apparently observing the room is more tiring than he thought. Oh well, at least he heard part of the lesson, that’s progress.
⸙
“You don’t need to take your shirt off, you can just roll your sleeves up.”
Wei Wuxian complies, carefully rolling both of his sleeves up. The doctor, Wen Qing, takes one of his arms and starts to take his blood pressure. It’s uncomfortable, but not too terrible. She’s very thorough, taking it twice.
“100/75.” She says, putting the cuff away; she pulls out her stethoscope and begins listening to his heartbeat.
“Is that good?”
“You’re back in the normal range, so yes. I’d still like it to be a bit higher.” She moves to his back, checking out his lungs. Her hands are cold, but she uses such a light touch that it doesn’t bother him.
“Do I still have to keep taking those meds?”
“I’d like to keep you on them until it’s back consistently in the normal range. It shouldn’t take more than a few more weeks.” She then checks his pupils and his temperature.
Fantastic. More medication for him to take.
Wen Qing writes a few things down in her notes before moving to the arm she didn’t use to take his blood pressure. That arm. Wei Wuxian still can’t look at it. Every time he showers or changes his shirt, he has to close his eyes. As Wen Qing starts unraveling his bandages, he feels an unpleasant warmth creeping up from his stomach and pooling in his chest, and his fingers start trembling. When she’s done, he closes his eyes, turning his head away from his left side. He can feel her examining the arm and he tries to shut it out, to force his mind to ignore that side of his body. The lighting in the room is so bright that it’s too bothersome to keep his eyes closed, so he opens them and stares at the wall besides him. There are a few medical posters, and a clock in a square frame near the top. Who puts a clock in a square frame?
“It’s healing nicely, but the stitches will have to stay in for another week or so.” Wen Qing grabs some new bandages and wraps it up again. As she builds up each layer, the warm feeling starts to abate. He exhales, his breath shaking.
“You’re good to go, do you have any questions?”
Questions? About his health? Or about…
“How is Wen Ning?” the question leaves his mouth before his mind can think it over.
She looks at him, and at first Wei Wuxian thinks she’s about to scold him for asking, but her expression morphs from cool professionalism to something resembling fondness.
“A-Ning is ok. He’s… adjusting. I have him seeing a therapist.”
“Oh. That’s good.” As long as Wen Ning is still alive, he’s happy.
Wen Qing gives him a small smile before ushering him out. “Now go, dinner is about to start, and you need to gain more weight.”
Hopping off the bed, he gives her a quick salute before hurrying out. Dinner isn’t something he’s been looking forward to recently; even though it’s of good quality, most of the food here is bland and boring. Bland food is not something you want when you have no appetite to begin with. Maybe if they had some more chili, Wei Wuxian would be more inclined to eat it. When he gets to the dining hall, he waits in line for his food anyway. Perhaps if he stares at it long enough it will look more appetizing.
No. The longer he looks at it, the more bothered he gets. The peanuts on the left side of the noodles are chopped into smaller bits than the ones on the right. Absurd. He pushes his plate away, staring at the now empty space on the table in front of him. Much better; the color of the table is consistent, and it’s clean. Fixating on it, the rest of the room ceases to exist until an orderly comes up next to him, her voice drifting to him from far away.
“Wei Wuxian? Would you like me to take your plate?”
Plate? What plate? Wei Wuxian looks up at the orderly in confusion, before seeing her hands pulling his food towards him. Oh, that plate.
“Yeah, you can take it. I’m full.” She smiles at him, and grabs it. Huh, she’s very pretty. She looks young, too. As she takes it away, he mentally hits himself on the head. Damnit, Wei Wuxian, Wen Qing says you need to gain weight, and you just let that pretty orderly take your food away.
He gets up, there’s no use sitting here if he’s just going to stare at a table. He can stare at all the tables he wants in the rec room. The main one is down the hallway; it’s a big open area in the middle of the building with comfortable chairs, tables, and games. It’s right near the elevators that lead up to the dormitory, and it’s close to the group therapy rooms. There’s a notice board filled with upcoming events, clubs, and various therapeutic activities you can sign up for.
Wei Wuxian checks the board out. He hasn’t taken the time to really read it yet, and there’s no time like the present. A big, bright yellow notice taking up most of the room in the center of the board is advertising the art therapy club. Art therapy? He’s never heard of art therapy before. A few other clubs catch his eye, but it’s the small, baby blue notecard pinned to the corner of the board that draws him in. It’s handwritten, and whoever wrote it has the most beautiful hand writing Wei Wuxian has ever seen. It’s so mesmerizing that he spends more time than he would like to admit just staring at how pretty it is, as opposed to reading the actual words. Pulling himself out of his little trance, he shakes his head and reads it. It’s two different activities, a meditation group, and a class both taught by a teacher at the local elementary school.
Music class.