[He startles a moment, blinking at Xichen as if he’s not sure what the other man is doing. It’s not as though he hasn’t curled up in Xichen’s arms here before, but the context for it is usually a bit different. His heart leaps into his throat and there’s not a moments hesitation after he realizes what the other is offering, moving around quickly to fit himself securely in Xichen’s arms. It’s both a blessing and a curse how easily he does fit in there, the moonlacing steady and strong and it’s all he can do not to nuzzles his face into Xichen’s neck like a puppy.

Who was the one who was supposed to be healed here? He laughs softly even as some of the sharper edges of his aching are filled away by the embrace.]

Xichen, [And he uses the name tentatively, because it should be alright when it’s just them, right? He doubts Xichen would like him to use his birth name, and he’s reasonably sure he can’t use ‘Er ge’ again yet, and ‘Zewu-jun’ seems too distant] forgive me. I came here to try and help soothe you, not the other way around. I always seem to seek comfort with you.

[but there’s so much about him that soothes Meng Yao every time. A familiar scent, the press of silk against his cheek. He knows he can’t offer that same comfort in return, but he hopes, fervently, that Xichen does have something, somewhere. He hopes that maybe what he’s doing to change can help, somewhat, and show that Xichen’s judgement hadn’t been entirely misplaced in the first place.]