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Vein once shared with Xia Fei a future that he saw laid out for him, a path intricately paved with granite and lined with flowering brush. He’d spoken, at the time, with a set of words filled with such conviction that Xia Fei had no option but to accept it as an inevitable fate waiting on the horizon.
There will come a day when Xia Fei finally learns valuable and vital lessons that he will carry with him for the rest of his life. Lessons on moderation and tact—on learning when to stop and learning when to hold his tongue. He will break from his shell, no longer a trembling fawn taking his first steps, and charge headfirst into the world armed with confidence and poise.
Today, unfortunately and surely to Vein’s ire, is not that day.
Xia Fei is at a bar. He is often at a bar, but that much is to be expected of a university student his age on a Friday evening. What else is he meant to do with his youth if not share drinks with classmates and have good times in the rare moments of reprieve he has between his classes and work? He feels, undoubtedly, completely guilt-free in his choice of leisurely activities. There could be worse things. He could be spending his time doing far more salacious things than downing a pitcher of beer and chattering loudly with peers about things like the last exam he took and the quality of campus food.
“The professor for Advanced Physics really is as strict as people say.” Xia Fei says, holding a finger up dramatically as he gazes out amongst the small gathering of his peers. His cheeks are flushed from the alcohol—he can’t quite remember how much he’s drunk, but he knows it isn’t enough to completely blind his judgement—but his eyes are still bright. He dons the demeanor of a well-meaning senior, wagging his finger playfully back and forth. “If you miss even a single day of class, forget about getting an A, you’ll be lucky if you pass with a 40%.”
“No kidding,” someone beside him chimes in, voice tinged with a groan. They take another big swig of their drink and slump over the counter of the bar. “I was fifteen minutes late once and he marked me as absent for the entire class!”
“Once, I missed class because I was at the dentist—“
It happens so quickly, Xia Fei almost misses it. As his classmates wax poetic about the tyranny of professors, he sees, in the corner of his eye, a hand slip past him and drop something into the drink next to his. It is a split second decision—one made in the handful of moments it takes to glance between the girl nodding off at his side and tablet fizzing away in her drink. It’s not like he knows this girl but—
He grabs the retreating hand and spins around to identify the perpetrator, a furious scowl on his face.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Xia Fei’s caught the attention of his classmates now. They fall into a hushed silence, watching the confrontation with wide eyes.
“What’s your problem?” The man rips himself out of his hold and scoffs.
“I saw you slip something into her drink.” There are whispers of incredulous disbelief from his colleagues—as if they cannot believe someone could be so disgusting to try something like drugging another. Bolstered by the scattered murmurs of support, Xia Fei presses on. “Apologize to her right now.”
“Why do you care, are you trying to take her home?” The man spits. He can tell his pride is being wounded from the way his face gets progressively redder. “It’s first come first serve, pretty boy.” He hates that moniker—pretty boy. His lip curls. “But you don’t look too bad yourself. If you want to take her pl—“
Xia Fei’s fist flies into the man’s face before his brain can conjure up a more rational method of debate. All too suddenly, it is chaos, frenzy, motion, and he can’t keep track of who is hitting who. Pain blossoms in his face, his side, but the drunken anger coursing through his veins feeds him enough adrenaline to ignore it and launch himself at his assailant. His fingers close around an empty wine bottle and he swings it hard into the man’s head—and blood drips, drips, drips down his face but that only seems to incentivize the man’s fury. The man swings again, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and—it takes the security guards prying the two of them apart and tossing them out the doors for the chaos to die down.
“Don’t come back here again if you’re just going to start fights and ruin property!” The bar owner shouts as he slams the door shut.
As the cold of the stone pavement beneath him seeps into his skin enough to sober Xia Fei from his alcohol-fueled frenzy, he hears something crack behind him. Fuck. He turns his head slowly, and feels dread sink in.
The man behind him, so rudely evicted alongside Xia Fei, cracks his knuckles and devoid of a supporting audience and impulsively righteous fury, Xia Fei’s confidence begins to shrink.
“Listen, why don’t we just talk—“
The man swings and Xia Fei has mere seconds to duck out of the way. He curses loudly, turning on his feet and doing what comes most naturally to him. He runs.
He runs and runs until he loses the pursuit of the angry drunken man, and then runs some more just to be sure. It isn’t until nausea of having one too many drinks combined with rigorous physical activity catches up with him, and he has to prop himself up by the walls of a back alley to empty the contents of his stomach, does he stop.
His head throbs, his chest aches, his vision is going blurry. Now, without imminent danger looming and solitude more present than ever, the burden of his bad decisions begins to weigh down on him. Great. When he finally takes a moment to look at where he’s landed himself, he is greeted with unfamiliar buildings and dim streetlights too generic to offer any sort of meaningful distinction. Fantastic.
Nice going, Xia Fei tells himself, now you’re beat up and lost. He runs a hand through his messy bangs, wincing as he brushes against the bruise beginning to swell on his cheek, and heaves a sigh. He knows that the walk back to the dorms shouldn’t be that long—there’s no way he ran that far, logically speaking—but now that his system is winding down from its previous state of fight or flight, he finds that his legs are too shaky for him to reliably walk forward without support. Bracing himself against the nearest brick wall, Xia Fei fishes his phone out of his pockets and resigns himself to the fate of shame and humiliation.
He’ll call someone to pick him up.
He sends his location to what he is certain is his roommate’s number—along with a short and curt message of picj me up pls—and tallies it up as another favor he owes him. Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Xia Fei slumps to the ground with a groan and waits. His head spins and spins and spins and spins and nausea creeps up his esophagus and nestles in his throat and he probably shouldn’t have drunk that much because he really is going to regret it in the morning and the floor might just swallow him whole before his roommate even makes it to him and—Anxiety chips away at the corners of his mind but he doesn’t have enough bandwidth to fully banish it with common sense.
Xia Fei can already feel the throbbing ache of the migraine that will plague him in the morning, the layers of makeup he’ll have to cake onto his face to hide the bruises for his photos—
Oh, shit.
His chest sinks like a ship lost out at sea, slowly being claimed by the abyss. There is no room for respite, only dread, regret, and impending doom. Xia Fei belatedly remembers that he is scheduled for work tomorrow and a part of him almost wishes he didn’t remember at all. He curls his knees to his chest and sinks his face into his arms with a groan. Great. Just, great.
“Boss is going to kill me.” He mutters under his breath, cursing his own impulsiveness. “Oh, the moment he catches wind of it I’m never going to hear the end of it,” his grievances continue as he sinks further and further into his arms. “Maybe if I beg for forgiveness…he won’t be as mad..”
“Hmm, I wonder. Should you try it out now and see what happens?”
Xia Fei jerks his head up and feels his heart stop beating altogether when bright red eyes and a too-sharp grin comes into view. He nearly bowls over in his haste to straighten up and sit properly.
“B-Boss?!” He exclaims, rubbing furiously at his eyes as if that’s enough to make the apparition of responsibility vanish from his sight. Unfortunately, the Vein-shaped person does not disappear. “When—how—what are you doing here?”
“You called for me, so I came running.” Vein answers, lips curved into an amused smile. There is a teasing lilt to his words that makes Xia Fei’s cheeks heat up. “Shouldn’t you be grateful?”
“When did I—?”
“What trouble did you get yourself into this time,” a soft murmur. Vein’s fingers settle just under Xia Fei’s chin. He turns Xia Fei’s head left and right, burning red and narrowed eyes scanning the bruises developing on his skin. There is something dangerous in his gaze, sharp like the flashing fangs of a predator moments away from a kill. When he speaks, his voice is a low dragon-rumble, volcanic rocks rolling off the cliff side. “Felix?”
“I—“ Xia Fei’s face burns under the intensity of Vein’s gaze. He means to hold his tongue, to pick his sentences carefully, but he can’t help the words spilling from his mouth like a dam bursting. “I didn’t mean to, Boss, I was just out with my classmates and I saw that bastard slip something into a drink and—I really didn’t mean to get into this whole mess. He just said some things and I lost my temper and I know—I know—I shouldn’t be so quick to—but it just happened—I really didn’t mean to—“
“I was wrong.” Xia Fei doesn’t even realize he’s gotten teary eyed until he feels Vein’s hand move from his chin to pat his head. He leans into his touch and stares up at Vein with wide eyes, sniffling rather pathetically. “Don’t be mad.”
“What am I going to do with you?” Vein’s eyes soften and Xia Fei allows himself to think that his words almost sound fond. Vein pulls away before Xia Fei can make any sort of definitive conclusion, though. He stands with an elegant flourish, his coat sweeping behind him as he effortlessly hauls Xia Fei onto his feet. Xia Fei stumbles like a fawn taking his first steps, his vision spinning from the sudden flurry of movement. He barely manages to catch his balance before Vein scoops him up and begins to walk.
The undignified squawk that tears from Xia Fei’s throat is entirely warranted. “I can walk on my own!” He protests, trying to squirm his way back to the ground. Vein’s hold on him tightens.
“I can’t have you damaging my precious investment any more than you already have.” He answers cheerfully.
“It’s not like—I’m not—Boss!”
Vein throws his head back and laughs and Xia Fei is stunned silent. Vein’s face is lit from the warm light of the street lamps, softening his sharp edges into hazy blurs that wear the illusion of safety. Xia Fei can feel Vein’s chest move with the force of his laughter and he gives up protesting entirely. Warmth bubbles underneath the cage of his ribs, a ticklish feeling like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings that stays with him the entire journey back to his dorm.
“I didn’t mean to send that to you.” Xia Fei confesses, fidgeting on the toilet seat as he watches Vein rifle through his medicine cabinet. Vein doesn’t seem particularly impressed with what he finds if the intermittent clicks of his tongue are anything to go by. An odd sense of shame rises in him—he should have cleaned up. He would have cleaned up if he knew that he’d end up hosting Vein in his little dorm room. He feels out of place. It feels like a crime to have someone as polished as Vein in his messy dorm room doing something as mundane as looking for ointment in his cabinets.
“No?” A knowing hum. Vein unearths a tube of antibiotic that isn’t months past its expiration date. With practiced precision and skill, he begins to tend to the various bruises and scrapes littered across Xia Fei’s body.
“You don’t…have to do all this.” It’s awkward, admittedly. He feels like he’s in grade school again, being picked up by his mother after getting into another fight with his classmate. There’s a similar sort of anxiety that worries him, one that has him stealing glances at Vein periodically to check his mood—to see when the other shoe will drop and the lecture begins. Unlike when he was a child, though, the weight of his nerves seems much more substantial now. Back then, the only thing he had to worry about was being grounded for a week. Now, he has to worry about impressions and employment and opinions and management.
It’s awkward, but Xia Fei would be lying if he said a part of him doesn’t also enjoy the tender attention.
“Do I ever do anything I don’t want to?” Vein returns. His hands are gentle as they apply ointment to Xia Fei’s skin, but Xia Fei can’t help jerking away with a hiss when Vein prods at his scrapes. “Stop moving.” Xia Fei stills himself with a half grumble.
“All done.” Vein proclaims proudly, stepping back to admire his handiwork. Xia Fei’s face feels stiff with all the bandages slapped onto it—and he’s fairly certain the severity of his injuries does not warrant this level of bubble wrapping but who is he to refuse Vein? Vein looks down at him, something flickering in his gaze that Xia Fei is too afraid to name. Xia Fei manages to hold his stare for all of five seconds before his eyes dart away and his cheeks warm with embarrassment. There’s a lot of that tonight; making a fool of himself in front of Vein.
“Boss, I’m hungry.” He finds himself mumbling instead, in a desperate attempt to fill the silence with something mundane and predictable.
“Restaurants are all closed now, what a pity.” The words curl over Vein’s tongue, his accent thick with exaggerated woe. “I can’t take you to eat hot pot now, Felix.” Well, that much is expected. “Why don’t you eat a small snack to hold you over, hm?”
And that much is unexpected. Xia Fei blinks, eyes wide with surprise as his gaze darts back to Vein. Vein gives him a toothy grin and waves his hand, holding a finger up to indicate just one.
“Can I reschedule tomorrow’s shoot?” He asks next, emboldened by Vein’s uncharacteristic leniency. He leans forward on his palm, staring up with wide, doe-like eyes.
“It would be hard to shoot with your face looking like this.” An implicit agreement. Xia Fei’s heart beats a few counts faster. Maybe he hasn’t sobered up enough yet, or maybe Vein is just taking pity on him, but he feels giddy for some reason.
“Will you spend the night here?” He means for the question to be a casual inquiry. It’s late, after all, and he isn’t sure if Vein is keen on making the trek back to his own place of abode. It’s only proper for him to offer a place to crash. It’s meant to be a casual inquiry, but it comes out like an unspoken plea instead. His face burns but it’s too late to retract the words spoken, and if he’s being honest, the idea of basking in Vein’s company is as intoxicating as the three pints of beer he’d downed earlier.
“Someone is getting greedy.” Vein’s warning lacks any real bite as he extends his index finger to poke the middle of Xia Fei’s forehead. Xia Fei shrinks back.
“Sorry.” He says immediately, hands automatically flying up to shield his head from any further taps. Vein meets him with an enigmatic smile and turns on his heels to exit the cramped bathroom. He crooks a finger over his shoulder, beckoning Xia Fei to follow—maybe all hope isn’t lost—and Xia Fei trails along after him like a lost duckling.
Xia Fei’s breath catches in his throat as Vein maneuvers him onto his bed. Wait, wait, wait, is this happening? What is happening? Xia Fei is dizzy. Vein leans over him, hair spilling over his shoulder and eyes dark with something unreadable. Xia Fei’s heart hammers against his chest. Vein reaches down, brushing his bangs out of his face, and—
He pulls the chair tucked under Xia Fei’s desk up and settles himself down with a quiet exhale. Hand placed right above Xia Fei’s heart, Vein pats his chest rhythmically. One-two, one-two—like the steady beat of a heart. It’s almost comforting. It would be comforting, if not for the fact that Xia Fei feels like a child being put to bed.
“Boss, what are you doing?” Xia Fei’s voice is pitched with complaints.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Vein’s grin never leaves his face. “Quiet now, go to sleep Felix.”
“I’m not a child!” Comes the protest. “I’m not going to be patted to sleep like this!”
“Mhm.” His eyelids are getting heavy. Vein’s figure is a blurry thing of black and red.
“I’m serious—Boss!”
“Hush now.” One-two, one-two, one-two.
Xia Fei falls asleep.