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Lan Jingyi had to admit—there was something he hated more than waking up to a dead phone, and that was waking up at ass o’clock and not being able to fall back asleep.
Currently, at about 12:06 am—he checked when he woke up—Jingyi was laying on his bed, mostly under his blanket, staring hard at the ceiling with furrowed brows, willing himself to reacquire the fuzzy, comfortable feeling of falling asleep—but it had long disappeared, and it would be way longer until it’d come back. He knew that.
It was a dream that woke him.
He was standing in the hallway of his old high school building. Everything seemed normal enough, except for the ominous feeling about it and his outfit. Instead of his usual uniform, he was wearing the clothes he’d worn to sleep—a dark blue muscle tee paired with some very short black shorts. Already, it was off to a less-than-good start.
He went down the hallway, descending from a couple of stairways until he made it to the first floor of the building. His old classroom was on this floor. He figured he could check it out—so he did. He walked the familiar path to his classroom: straight up the hallway, then turned left at the farthest corner.
When he turned that final corner, he fully expected to be greeted by the wooden door of his classroom. But this was a dream, and the thing that waited for him then scared dream-Jingyi so much it almost became the reason he’d woken up.
Standing there, menacing as ever, was Jingyi’s old math teacher, Lan Qiren. His eyebrows were knitted together and it looked like there was a vein on his forehead that was seconds away from popping. In his right hand, he had his infamous yellow plastic ruler that he’d use to smack the corners of any misbehaving student’s desk. Jingyi remembered it splitting in half once when he hit some kid’s desk for talking over the allowed decibel—which was probably about zero, knowing Lan Qiren—so to see it in one piece again after so long made dream-Jingyi tense up in fear.
In an instant, his somewhat mediocre dream turned into a nightmare.
“Jingyi,” the older man said, his voice so deep and distorted it practically was a growl.
Jingyi didn’t reply. Instead, he did what anyone with a healthy conscience—dream or not—would do in this type of situation: he bolted. Just straight up ran for it like his life depended on it, which, in this case, it probably did.
His legs moved at an incredible speed as he dashed through the hallway that seemingly never ended. But he didn’t stop running, because he knew if he did, he’d have to face the entity that was chasing after him. Lan Qiren had always been rumored to be quite athletic despite his demeanor. Perhaps that rumor was true. At least here, in Jingyi’s dream, it was.
After what seemed like an eternity of running, he finally caught a glimpse of the end of the hallway. (Ah, sweet, sweet escape.) There was a big door-shaped opening with a giant exit sign right on top, bathing its surroundings in green light. Relief washed over him and he let out a sigh. All he needed to do now was run through it, and he’ll be out of this hell hole!
As he got even closer to the door, he sped up, not wanting to stay in the menacing hallway any longer. He didn’t even bother to look back to see if Lan Qiren was still behind him. (He was, and he didn’t seem like he’d slow down anytime soon.) Then, just as he thought this horrible nightmare was finally coming to an end, like some sort of sick joke, the door and everything in front of him floated away...
Or rather, he’d fallen through something. When he looked down, he found that the floor had disappeared from under his two feet. And when he looked back up, his vision was blurry and his chest felt heavy; his movements were also slowed, as if something was holding him back. It didn’t take him long to realize that he was underwater, which prompted him to start swinging his arms and kicking his feet, propelling himself up and out through the surface.
The world around him was dark—pitch black, even—save for the wide light panels by the side that lit up what appeared to be a swimming pool. Whose swimming pool it belonged to, he couldn’t tell, because the all too familiar distorted voice of a certain math teacher began ringing in his ears once again. Only this time, he sounded a little farther. Lan Qiren’s disembodied voice told him that if he didn’t get to the opposite side of the pool under a certain time limit, he would have to fail him.
Jingyi, known for his perseverance and his intense fear of failing even a single class, took up the challenge. He began paddling with his hands and kicking his feet as he did before, and soon he was tearing through the water at a decent speed. He thought he could even make it in time.
Just as he’d predicted, he covered an impressive amount of distance in no time. The end of the swimming pool became more and more visible, until it was just within reach. Jingyi stretched out his arm and…
He woke up, sweaty and gasping loudly.
Needless to say, he was upset. Mostly because he had been rudely woken up after being threatened by his old math teacher—of all people—to swim a long lap, and partially because his blanket had stuck uncomfortably to his body due to the thin layer of sweat.
He checked his phone again. This time, it was 12:17 am, exactly eleven minutes after he woke up. Eleven minutes... Jingyi sighed before putting it away. This is going to be a long night.
He tossed and turned and even tried laying upside down with one leg stuck out from under his blanket. He hoped that the combination between the change in position and a slightly lower temperature would somehow act as a catalyst to his falling asleep.
It didn’t.
With a grumble, Jingyi grabbed his blanket and ripped it off of his body, practically tossing it away, and turned to his side to stare at the poster he’d stuck on his side of the room some time ago. There were five men on the poster, and they stared back at him, each donning a charming smile on his face.
Then, driven by the curiosity of any other person who's had to experience a similar hell as his, Jingyi reached over the little cabinet by his bed and searched for the familiar coolness of his phone. Once he had it in his hand, he switched it on, squinting at the blinding light that greeted him before promptly lowering it to save his poor eyes.
The four large digits slowly became visible to him, and once they were, they showed him the current time—1:23 am. The last time he checked was a little over an hour ago. He had been awake for an hour.
Jingyi closed his eyes and drew in a breath before letting it all out the next moment in a long sigh. Then, he switched off his phone and let it fall beside his face with a soft thud. He laid there for a few heartbeats before suddenly sitting up.
The room was quiet, with the constant sound of soft snoring coming from the other side serving as background noise. On other nights, Jingyi wouldn’t mind this. Of course, because he would’ve been asleep already and thus wouldn’t hear any of it. But tonight was different, so he stood up and got out of bed. He had somewhat of a plan to make himself fall back asleep.
Phone in hand, he began to walk away from his bed and towards the door, quietly and carefully, so as to not wake up his roommate, Zizhen, who was sleeping soundly on a sad, old bean bag that he absolutely refused to throw out even after days of persuasion from Jingyi. Zizhen's long limbs were sprawled on top of the poor bean bag, his mouth agape, and his head lolled to one side. Jingyi couldn’t help from letting out a snort at the sight. (Oh, Zizhen…)
Outside, everything was even more silent. It was a little warmer too, but Jingyi didn’t mind that. In fact, he thought it was perfect. He closed the door behind him carefully, with a little click.
There was another bedroom right across from theirs—it was their other roommates'. Zizhen's friends. He'd thought it would be a good idea to have all of them live together. "Saves you time, effort, and money!" he'd told Jingyi.
Jingyi had been against the arrangement when Zizhen first proposed it, unfamiliarity being his main argument.
“I don’t know them! What if they think I’m weird? What if... they’re weird?” he’d whined to Zizhen one night. “No offense,” he added when he realized how rude he sounded.
“None taken,” Zizhen had said in reply, smiling. “And you’re not weird. But neither are they, so please don’t say that. Besides, I think we’d all make great roommates.”
The following week, he’d arranged a little meet-up for them all. Jingyi had been so nervous about their new roommates’ arrival all month that Zizhen thought it would be best to have them meet each other first before actually living together.
The meet-up took place here, at the sitting area where Jingyi was currently rearranging pillows, putting them on the floor to one side except for one, so he could place it on the couch to lay his head on. (Zizhen would kill him tomorrow for this, but that was a problem for tomorrow morning's Jingyi.)
That day, he waited for his soon-to-be roommates on that very same couch, while Zizhen was busy in the kitchen doing gods know what. He was nervous, but he refused to admit it. Not that he could anyway, because before he could even think to do it, a string of firm knocks came from the door, followed by a boyish voice. (“Zizhen-ge! Open up! I’m here!!!”)
That was Jin Ling, their first other roommate. He was the youngest of the four and an instant new target for Jingyi’s (mostly) harmless bullying.
The other guy couldn’t make it—said he wanted to spend the entire first semester with his dads before they had to move away in February.
True to his words, the second guy showed up a few days after the second semester started. His name was Lan Sizhui, which Jin Ling made sure to (loudly) point out after learning that Jingyi’s surname was also Lan.
Jingyi laid on the couch, his head supported by the pillow, and his legs curled in against himself. The temperature wasn't much lower out there than inside his and Zizhen's room, but his toes still felt cold. He switched on his phone again, ignoring the clock completely—there was no point anyway—and tapped on the first game he saw. He stayed like this for about an hour or so.
It had to be two-something in the morning, but Jingyi wasn’t too sure. He couldn’t be bothered to check—especially not when his team was losing.
He’d ended up switching through three different games in the course of an hour. He started with a simple idle tap game, but got bored after a few levels. Then he decided he wanted to play a story-driven puzzle game, which he gave up on shortly after reaching the 5th chapter. (There were 20 levels in that chapter alone, and Jingyi would very much like to not fry his brain, thank you very much!)
Finally, he decided to play a multiplayer game, where he ended up playing on a server with a bunch of foreigners because no one else in the entire country was up, apparently. (Except for the ones who sucked and just wanted to make new friends in the lobby.)
His thumbs moved hastily, gliding across one side of the screen and furiously tapping on the other as he tried his best to fend off his opponents with one other guy who cared enough to lend him a hand. They gave it their all, using up most of their power-ups—but in the end, all their efforts proved to be futile, as their opponents infiltrated their defense and took over their fort.
The screen dimmed and showed the ever unpleasant Game Over screen. Jingyi let out a sigh before tapping continue.
Back in the lobby (the virtual lobby), Jingyi received a friend request. It was from that guy, the one who came down to help him instead of fleeing at the sight of an enemy. He snorted quietly and accepted it before going for another round.
The screen dimmed once again, this time displaying the Waiting For Other Players screen. While doing exactly that—waiting—Jingyi turned to his side, trying to get more comfortable.
Two other players’ avatars popped up on his screen. Three more to go.
Jingyi tapped impatiently on the side of his phone, contemplating exiting then rejoining to see if that would speed up the process of gathering teammates. He wasn’t falling asleep, and at this point he wasn’t sure which would come first.
His finger hovered above the white x on the corner, about to press it, when he heard the sound of a door opening. He froze, then swiped down on his phone to check the time. It was way past 2, and as far as he knew all of his roommates were heavy sleepers. The only way they’d be awake at this time was if they had been staying up to complete projects.
Aside from the other three, there was no one else he knew of that lived there with them... But it wasn’t like he was scared or anything. Oh, no—Jingyi was very brave. Yup! Nothing could scare him.
(Except maybe Lan Qiren. Just the thought of him made Jingyi shudder.)
He tapped on the white x finally before exiting the game altogether and hugging his phone to his chest.
Whoever had opened that door had closed it and was now slowly making their way towards the sitting area. Their footsteps sounded heavy, like they were struggling to keep their balance. As they got closer, Jingyi curled tighter into himself, hoping that would somehow hide him.
Okay. Yes. Maybe he was a little scared. Just a little though.
When the footsteps halted and began gaining a little bit of speed to them, Jingyi swore he felt his heart sink to his toes.
This is it, he thought helplessly. This is how I die: afraid and running on two hours of sleep. He sniffled.
The steps got closer and closer, and Jingyi closed his eyes, praying to the gods to forgive any sins he’d committed while in the mortal realm. It was too soon, but he’d accepted his death.
Sleep deprivation truly did make him ten times more dramatic than he usually was.
Jingyi waited and waited, but nothing happened. When he opened his eyes, everything was still the way it had been, and he was still there, completely unharmed. He was fine at first, until he realized that the footsteps had stopped once again. He wanted to look around, to scan his surroundings, but he stopped himself when he saw a shadow standing incredibly still at the other end of the couch. He felt every single hair on his body rise.
The figure was tall, about Jingyi’s height but with a few extra inches to them. They might as well be one of his roommates, but with their face hidden by the darkness and Jingyi’s mind clouded with fear, there wasn’t much he could do to confirm that. All he could do was stare silently, with controlled breathing, and wish that the figure would fuck off.
That wish seemed to backfire, however, because when Jingyi looked away briefly then back at the figure, they were already moving closer, intending to sit down next to him. If Jingyi was connected to a heart monitor right now, he was sure it would show his heart beating at 100 bpm. And when the figure finally sat down, he swore he could feel his heart stop beating. Am I dead? he thought.
His eyes dragged up the figure’s… well, figure in hopes of identifying this mysterious being’s identity one last time, but it was hard to see anything with little to no light in the room—so Jingyi pushed himself forward slightly, as quietly as he possibly could, to get a somewhat better look. And it probably would’ve worked if it hadn’t been for the figure lifting their legs up onto the couch, onto Jingyi.
“Ah!” Jingyi jumped off of the couch and so did the figure.
They both landed with a thud on opposite sides, with Jingyi almost falling over backwards and the figure running into the corner of a coffee table. They let out a small pained groan.
Wait...
Jingyi recognized that voice.
“Sizhui?” he said, squinting at the space in front of him as if it would help him see better.
“Jingyi?” the figure, no—Sizhui responded. He sounded pleasantly surprised to see (hear) Jingyi.
Almost immediately, Jingyi’s heartbeat fell into a slower, calmer tempo. I live to see another day...
Jingyi walked towards the couch and sat on it, more relaxed now that the identity of the mystery figure had been disclosed. He felt the space next to him dip as Sizhui reclaimed the spot. The two boys sat in silence, one laughing at himself internally for freaking out, and the other probably a little disoriented.
“Why are you up so early?” Sizhui asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Jingyi snorted. “I could ask you the same thing,” he replied.
Silence.
“I… uh… I couldn’t sleep,” Jingyi said after a while. “What about you? Why are you up at”—He checked his phone—“Two forty-five?” Two forty-five...
“It’s two forty-five?” Sizhui asked back, surprised.
“Yeah.”
“I couldn’t sleep either.”
"Oh."
Silence again.
Jingyi regretted not getting to know Sizhui better when he had the chance, because now they were just sitting there, in complete silence, each waiting for the other person to start a conversation. The silence was deafening, truly.
But then again, Sizhui had always been a little quiet. And besides, they rarely saw each other, what with their busy schedules and all.
He heard Sizhui shift around on his side of the couch, probably turning to face him. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Jingyi shifted his position too, turning to face the other boy.
“Are you hungry?” Sizhui asked him.
He wasn’t. He really wasn’t. But when Sizhui asked him, he heard his stomach growl.
Or maybe he just imagined it. He hadn’t slept for nearly three hours, after all. Either way, he hoped Sizhui hadn’t heard it.
“Not really,” Jingyi answered. He put a palm over his stomach. Man, why was he suddenly hungry? “But now that you mention it… ”
He heard Sizhui chuckle quietly.
“Follow me,” Sizhui said. Jingyi heard the sound of fabric shifting against the couch and Sizhui getting up.
His silhouette moved around in the dark, gradually increasing the space between himself and Jingyi. He walked to the farthest corner of the room and switched on the light. Jingyi squinted his eyes and blinked a couple of times to adjust to the sudden brightness.
Sizhui was already in the kitchen.
When Jingyi got there, Sizhui was busy searching through the many cabinets they had.
Jingyi glanced at the stove and cocked an eyebrow. A pot was placed on it, but he couldn’t tell if Sizhui had just put it there or if it had been sitting there since the last time it was used.
“You’re gonna cook at three in the morning?” Jingyi asked.
“It’s not three,” Sizhui replied, taking out a pair of bowls from the dish rack.
“Jin Ling’ll wake up and kick your ass.”
Jingyi smirked after saying that. There was a funny story behind that statement, but not one worth telling on an empty (ish) stomach.
Sizhui scoffed. “He wouldn’t.”
He then explained that he wasn't going to cook a full course meal like Jingyi had thought, and instead produced a carton of milk from the fridge along with a box of cereal from one of the cabinets. (Top left cabinet, second row.)
Sizhui placed them on the counter along with the bowls and began unscrewing the milk carton cap.
“You’re making cereal?” Jingyi asked, watching from behind Sizhui’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” Sizhui answered. “Would you like something else?”
Jingyi shook his head. “No. No, cereal’s fine.”
Sizhui smiled at that before proceeding to pour milk into one of the bowls, much to Jingyi’s surprise and horror.
“No! What are you doing?!” Jingyi grimaced at the sight before him. An age-old debate was about to take place.
“I’m making cereal.” It came out like a question.
“I can see that. But... you put milk in first?”
“Well… Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I’ve always done it like this. What, is there something wrong with that?”
Jingyi gasped, mostly in jest, holding a hand over his chest. “I can’t be seen with you.”
Sizhui smiled and raised an eyebrow at him—the kind of look you'd give someone when you’re not sure if they’re being serious or not. After a while, he chuckled, shaking his head as he turned toward the bowls again.
"Well then. In that case, you can say goodbye to your precious cereal."
Jingyi barely stifled his laughter, pushing air out of his nose while pulling the worst poker face known to man. He hadn't expected Sizhui to play along.
He stepped beside Sizhui and grabbed the box of cereal. "Fine, I'll do it myself," he said, rolling his eyes for added drama. He caught Sizhui smiling at that.
The only cereal available was Corn Flakes, Jingyi's favorite, which coincidentally was also Jin Ling's favorite. Peace and chaos in their apartment were separated by a thin line, and this cereal was it.
He shook out a good amount of the crispy, sugary goodness and reached out for the milk. Sizhui moved it closer to Jingyi so he could grab it.
"You're put cereal in first," he said.
A corner of Jingyi's mouth quirked upward. "Of course," he said, glancing at Sizhui as he poured in the milk. "I'm not a heathen." Sizhui rolled his eyes at that, but not without a chuckle.
When Jingyi finished pouring in his milk, Sizhui took the carton and returned it to its original spot in the fridge. The cereal too, in the cabinets. After that, they head out of the kitchen to go enjoy their (very) early breakfast.
Sizhui continued walking to the dining table—a decent-sized, round table with four chairs around it, two mismatched—but Jingyi stopped right in front of the kitchen entrance, not following after the other boy. Sizhui only noticed this once he’d taken a seat on one of the mismatched chairs.
“Jingyi?” he asked. “You’re not going to sit down?”
Jingyi was looking at the curtains that covered the sliding door that led out to a small balcony from the sitting area, then he looked at Sizhui. He was watching him expectantly with a soft gaze. Jingyi shook his head.
“Hey,” he said to Sizhui, “could you hold this for me?” He walked over to the dining table and handed Sizhui his bowl.
Sizhui gave him a quizzical look, but took the bowl nonetheless. “Sure…”
“Cool.” Jingyi smiled briefly at him before making his way to the door.
Jingyi worked quickly out of fear of his cereal going soggy. He pulled back the curtains and slid open the door, taking in the fresh morning—night?—air. It was cold against his face, and even colder through his nostrils. He blew a small gust of air through them, then turned to walk back inside. Once inside, he made his way to the dining table. Not to sit down, but to take a pair of chairs.
Throughout this entire thing, Sizhui could only watch him in silence. There were instances where he looked like he wanted to say something, to ask Jingyi what he was doing, but he always ended up keeping his questions to himself and continued watching.
Outside, Jingyi placed the two chairs next to each other on one side of the slightly cramped balcony. (He had to move some of Zizhen’s plants to the side to do this.) Then, he looked around for something. A table, he thought. Right then, his eyes landed on a fairly big clay pot in a corner on the far side of the balcony. He pursed his lips in thought, glanced at Sizhui and his own bowl, then made up his mind.
It was a hefty pot. Jingyi practically had to roll it over on its side instead of carrying it, but even rolling it required extra effort. He wondered what Zizhen had saved it for. A tree, maybe? It had to be a giant tree.
When he finally got the pot where he wanted it to be—upside down, between the two chairs—he stepped back inside and fetched a couple of blankets from the sitting area. They were Jin Ling’s blankets (he liked to leave his stuff laying around, especially after movie nights). Not to mention, his blankets were of the best quality—“Softer than a baby’s butt!” Zizhen had testified. To miss out on a chance to use them would make Jingyi a fool.
He bunched up the blankets in his arms and carried them out to the balcony, then laid one neatly on each chair. At this point, he wondered if his cereal had turned into oatmeal.
Once everything looked good enough to him, Jingyi poked his head back inside and beckoned Sizhui over. The other boy picked up both of their bowls and made his way over.
“What’s all this?” he asked, nodding at the little arrangement in front of them.
Jingyi took his bowl from Sizhui’s hand. “Improvised breakfast table.”
He sat down first, momentarily placing his bowl on the pot to drape a blanket over his legs, then picking it back up. His cereal had certainly turned into oatmeal—he was sure now. When he scooped up a spoonful, some fell back in the bowl, creating an unpleasant splashing sound. It didn’t look very appealing nor appetizing.
Sizhui sat down on the chair next to him and placed an additional two items on their makeshift table—the milk carton and the cereal box. Jingyi hadn’t noticed him going inside and coming back. But he would’ve been glad either way because there was no way in hell would he be eating soggy cereal.
“Thanks,” he said, grabbing the cereal box.
Sizhui smiled. “No problem.”
An hour must have passed since they started eating their breakfast—and since they had their second serving of it—because the sky had turned a dark shade of blue from its original pitch black. Sizhui guessed it was probably 4 am and Jingyi agreed. He couldn’t be bothered to check his phone. Neither of them could, actually. They were full and comfortable and warm, and moving sounded like too much work.
They were silent now, leaning back against their chairs and watching the world around them slowly wake up. It was a boring process, but not boring enough so as to make them feel even the slightest bit of sleepiness. Jingyi was starting to suspect that they'd been cursed.
Sizhui was sitting upright, fidgeting with his fingers. He looked like he desperately wanted to break the silence. Jingyi wanted to do the same. The conversations they had earlier, though only briefly, were nice. And now that they were back to sitting in complete silence, it felt too awkward to try and break it again.
Jingyi glanced at Sizhui. Now he was smoothing a blanket over his lap.
“Hey, Sizhui,” he said, and Sizhui immediately turned his head to look at him.
“Yeah?”
Jingyi hadn’t thought about what to say, so he just paused and stared dumbly at Sizhui.
“Um…” He glanced down, searching for something to talk about. The first thing he saw was the table—the upside down clay pot—more specifically, their empty cereal bowls. He let out a light chuckle at the sight of them and looked up at Sizhui again. “So,” he said, “why do you put milk in before your cereal?”
Sizhui looked back at him, a bit dumbfounded at first, then let out a breathy laugh. Jingyi grinned at that.
“Well...” Sizhui said and cleared his throat to compose himself before humoring Jingyi.
He explained why he prepared his cereal in that specific order, and Jingyi would seldom react with exaggerated expressions. (There was actually a little story behind it.)
Their cereal conversation dragged on for quite a long time and even got pretty heated. At some point in the conversation, Jingyi knelt on his chair and grabbed onto its top rail to explain passionately with his entire body why cereal should be poured in first. It caused Sizhui’s sides to ache from holding back his laughter—he even teared up.
When that conversation finally came to an end (they concluded that it was just a preference thing and even shook on it), Jingyi came up with another topic and a whole new conversation began. And when that conversation ended, another one began shortly after. Jingyi was in charge of asking most of the questions—he had a lot of questions, both serious and not—and Sizhui would respond to those questions, be it by providing answers or by laughing at how ridiculous they were.
At about 5 am, they ran out of topics. They leaned against their chairs and occasionally mentioned things from earlier conversations, which would spark laughter from the other person.
At about 5.30 am, they were back to being silent, their eyes heavy.
Sizhui was staring ahead, watching the blue sky before them gradually become streaked with warm colors. This was probably the first time he’d been awake long enough to see the sun rise. He had to tell someone.
“Hey Jingyi,” he said, turning to look at the boy, but paused when he noticed how quiet the other boy was.
He was leaning back against his chair with his head lolled to one side. (It couldn’t be comfortable.) His lips were slightly parted, breathing in the morning air in a calm pattern. Sizhui didn’t need to look at his eyes to know that he was already sleeping.
He let his eyes linger on the other boy for an extra second, then looked back at the sky when he noticed the beginnings of a sunrise. He felt a smile blooming on his face. He let it. Then, he got up from his chair and walked in the apartment, taking the two empty bowls, cereal box, and milk carton with him.
Sizhui came back after a while. He was beginning to feel sleepy too.