[he didn't release Wei Wuxian's wrist instantly at first, but the instinct to try to hold on to some part of Wei Wuxian wouldn't stand up against real determination, so Wei Wuxian is able to pull free without too much trouble. he lets his hand fall to the bedclothes instead; lets his eyes close against the light and the odd unexpected blurriness of the room.

the rejection doesn't hurt less with Wei Wuxian's death and their new circumstances, he finds. it's just duller, like the bruise goes so deep it can't get worse at this point. he knows the shape of it too well.

he'll make a soft sound, not entirely voluntary, in the back of his throat. it's not agreement, but he doesn't move.]