Chapter Text
"You have to drink the water. And open up your mouth properly."
Jiang Cheng let go of one end of the plastic bag he was holding, grabbing the water bottle to wave it at the Lan brother's nose. Glaring, Lan Wangji accepted, then downed half the liquid in two gulps – or, one and a half, before immediately descending back into the bag and coughing up another bout of hyacinths.
It was a pitiful sight, the once infallible Lan Wangji choking up flowers at the back of the school library. Though Jiang Cheng felt for him, he knew it was no one's fault but the boy’s own. It was Hanahaki disease, after all. The affliction Jiang Cheng was hit by all of last summer. The grand punishment for an unrequited love. The incredibly effective incentive for ending it.
Now on the other side, Jiang Cheng felt a certain sense of responsibility over his classmate's situation; it would have been so much easier last year if he'd had someone by his side to help him, to tell him it was possible for it to end.
He patted Lan Wangji's back, grimacing sympathetically, and Lan Wangji promptly deposited a singular wet plum blossom above the hyacinths.
"That the last of it?" Jiang Cheng asked. For him, the fits usually ended with the smallest flower.
Lan Wangji arose, wiping somewhat savagely at his spit-covered mouth with the back of his hand.
"It's good to know when to stop. If you keep forcing it, it'll fuck up your stomach."
It was usual for Lan Wangji not to speak or respond to him, especially whenever Jiang Cheng swore without thinking. A semester periodically spending an hour after school typing up his notes taught him as much. Nothing against him. Boy was just quiet and didn't have any desire to mince words. He could even consider it a refreshing take compared to the company of his brother Wei WuXian, who found silence so detestable he'd sing limericks just to quash it.
Oh right. His brother.
Lan Wangji took another swig of water, chest still heaving from the stress of upchucking sticky flowers from his stomach. Jiang Cheng tied the plastic bag with a half-bow, then pulled his backpack towards them on the floor. He had a bottle of honey aloe tea in the drink pocket, of which he'd taken one sip of while on his way to the library. He slipped it from the mesh pocket and stuck it forward between them.
"Here. Honey's good for the throat. It probably feels like something's crawled its way outta there, right? If you don't take care of it, you'll start tasting blood, and your flowers will become red-flecked and a biological hazard."
He could almost taste the old metallic tang at the back of his throat as he described it. It was a good thing he'd taken a liking to the taste of honey aloe while he'd been sick, and continued drinking it even after he'd gotten better. There was not much more relieving than the sweetness of honey gliding down one's throat, quelling the bitterness and strain petals and stems tended to leave behind.
Lan Wangji did an excellent job at expressing his ingratitude for this. He glared at the bottle, the broken seal, the centimetre of missing portion at the neck. Then he glared at Jiang Cheng, who, seeing his expression, pulled his lips into an irritated scowl.
"You're the one with the rabies here – d'you wanna have a bleeding throat or what? Just fucking drink the aloe, Lan Wangji."
He thrusted the bottle at the other boy's chest impatiently. Lan Wangji took it, the fingers that brushed Jiang Cheng's hand feeling clammy and cold. He finished the bottle in three consecutive gulps.
"Better?" Jiang Cheng asked, afterwards. The boy certainly looked better.
Lan Wangji wouldn't look at him.