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A thousand eyes burning on his back, arms, legs, face.
He felt them from the moment he woke up until the time the nightmares ceased, which guaranteed perhaps a few hours of peaceful sleep, just enough to have some strenght for the next day.
It's not the judgment itself that bothered him so much. It was the limitation. It was the way the eyes also turned to anyone who stood next to him, and he knew it was also burning them, and nothing was worse than not being able to spare them of a pain that was supposed to be only his.
There didn't seem to be a way to make the world accept what he had accepted long ago. Weren't the shadows his, in the end? Wasn't he the one hearing every scream echoing in his eardrums, every hurt from hundreds and hundreds of years reverberating in his heart? He made peace with that. It shouldn't be anyone else's concern to make peace as well.
Of course it wasn't easy, nor did it happen without consequences. He knows of his mistakes as much as he knows of his rights. If he's honest, he would say he was surprised with his will to live as much as the others were to see him again.
He still wasn't sure what made him keep trying. Family? Love? Anger? Maybe just stubornness.
But he tried, made it, and came back to a world that didn't want anything to do with him or his shadows.
Who would know that the contained voices from living people could be louder than the ones shouting in his ears. Louder than the sound of his flute, of his own breathing.
Louder than the voice from the only one left who still didn't want to lose him.
Lan Zhan was thunder, but Wei Ying was the storm itself. He would be the one to decide when to stop. And, god, he was tired.
As he fell, he watched the faces from two of the people he loved the most. He didn't want to hurt them, he never wanted to hurt anyone; but it was better to let the wound begin to heal. It was the right decision. After all, he could also see, somewhere in his brother's eyes, the relief. Finally, it was over.
It was strange to think of how he wanted to solve it all, but didn't want to be forgotten. He never said he wasn't a bit selfish, did he? He wanted to know that he would be missed. That he would still be loved.
From one of them, he believed that yes, that wish could come true.
From the other, he wasn't so sure.
Those were the only people he was leaving behind. At least, the only ones who still cared.
But need him? No. He couldn't protect the ones who needed him, so it was better this way.
He close his eyes a second before hitting the ground. He was tired.
He was the storm, but he too missed the sun.