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To be fair, it wasn’t like Xiang Fei MEANT to start smoking with Shen Jiu. Shen Jiu had also accepted the weed when offered. In fact, he accepted it almost worryingly fast, before Xiang Fei was even done with the rest of his (slightly rambly) question.
“Yes.” Shen Jiu cuts him off, and his expression twists into an ugly sneer when his phone begins to buzz. He snatches it from his pocket to glare at whatever message he’d just received. It is two AM. They have been cleaning since people started leaving, and Shen Yuan is still nowhere to be found. The last Xiang Fei heard from him, it was a barely audible sentence about ‘going to get more ice with Binghe.’
It's been three hours.
Shen Yuan isn't coming back.
Shen Jiu glares down at his phone, cursing something before he looks up. “Shen Yuan isn’t coming back.”
“That piece of shit,” Xiang Fei laughs. He had to laugh, or he was going to start crying. Or maybe screaming. He doesn't hate Shen Yuan. Not really. But the feeling that rises from his chest, unbidden and hideously ugly, does not lie. Xiang Fei is jealous. So viciously, cruelly jealous. Of course Shen Yuan is being swept off his fucking feet, leaving Shen Jiu and Xiang Fei to clean up after the party Shen Yuan had claimed he was hosting. The party which Xiang Fei was supposed to be a guest at.
“I’m gonna kill him.” Shen Jiu snarled, flinging his phone halfway across the room.
Xiang Fei flinched- an unconscious reflex. If he were less tired, he might have been able to hide it from Shen Jiu. But it is 2 AM. Shang Qinghua has homework he needs to do. His final thesis is fucked.
Shen Jiu is heaving deep, angry breaths, wearing a scowl so fierce it’s almost comical. Xiang Fei is silent for a moment, waiting for Shen Jiu to calm down, to breathe, to relax, to anything.
Shen Jiu continues to glare at the phone, breathing in aggravated exhales.
Xiang Fei clears his throat. “Uhm. Weed?”
Shen Jiu looks up, glaring at him now. “It helps you calm down, right?”
“I mean… yeah? It can have a bunch of different effects, though-” Xiang Fei is already pulling out his vape. It’s a shitty one, probably filled with a million and one chemicals meant to cause horrible cancer or male pattern baldness, but Xiang Fei doesn’t exactly have the money for pre-rolls or gummies right now. So unfortunately, THC vape-thingies remain the most accessible.
Shen Jiu, to his credit, listens when Xiang Fei explains the (probably overly complicated) buttons. It’s a weird pen that Xiang Fei bought online- you have to press a button, like, a million times to turn it on, and a billion every time you want to take a hit. It’s a great way for Xiang Fei to keep himself from getting too stoned. He always forgets how to count when he’s too stoned.
Shen Jiu also watches with uncomfortable intensity as Xiang Fei takes a hit.
“Show me again,” Shen Jiu commands after the first one.
Xiang Fei takes another.
“Do you breathe it into your lungs?” Shen Jiu interrogates.
“Do you want the pen or not?” Xiang Fei replies dryly, holding it out.
Shen Jiu takes the pen gingerly, like it might explode if he holds it wrong. To be fair, it might- the site Xiang Fei bought it on was not at all reputable.
Xiang Fei starts to laugh. “Wouldn’t it be funny if our faces exploded?” He says, not quite sure if he’s getting his words out in the right order. “Fuck, that hit fast.”
Shen Jiu glared at him, still pressing buttons. “Shut up, I’m still-” A beep, a frantic inhale- maybe too frantic?
“Jesus Christ, that was a big hit,” Xiang Fei says, slightly alarmed as Shen Jiu continues to suck the fumes back into his lungs with an awkward snuffle. He starts coughing violently when he lets it out in a billowing cloud of white.
“Fuck,” Shen Jiu swears, hacking his lungs out. Xiang Fei heads for the open kitchen (fucking rich people) to grab one of the Shen’s fancy glasses, made from actual glass or crystal or some shit. “That’s vile.” Shen Jiu calls out behind him.
Xiang Fei debates over the large bowls of leftover chips he has not yet put away before he grabs them. Shen Jiu’s coughing grows even more dire.
“You sound like you have black lung,” Xiang Fei hands him a glass of water before dropping onto the couch.
Shen Jiu drinks deep and long before he says anything, draining the glass in one enormous gulp. Then he stares contemplatively at the glass.
The silence weighs heavy upon itself, like a tofu dreg building, unable to withstand its own weight. Xiang Fei breaks. “You okay there, buddy?”
Shen Jiu looks up.
Xiang Fei can't stop himself. “Oh my God, your eyes are red.”
They're so red. The kind of red Xiang Fei has only ever seen in western cartoons. Like The Simpsons or something, except Shen Jiu is unfairly pretty and not at all yellow.
“What?” Shen Jiu says every syllable- of which there is only one- like he is talking in slow motion. Everything seems a little bit more pronounced, suddenly, and time feels like it’s moving at a fifth of its normal rate.
Oh fuck it's finally hitting. Xiang Fei flops down on the couch. He drags Shen Jiu down with him. He’d been standing the whole time, hovering as if he's uncertain where to sit. He’s still got those bright yellow cleaning gloves on. Xiang Fei rubs the plastic-y material between his thumb and forefinger, frowning in concentration. Shen Jiu is close- so close. Once again, Xiang Fei laments the unfairness of it all. The entire Shen family is beautiful. The kind of beautiful that Xiang Fei would absolutely fucking kill to be. Shen Jiu in particular. He is the kind of beautiful that people get plastic surgery to look like. Maybe in a world without plastic surgery, he might have even been the most beautiful person Xiang Fei has ever seen. If Xiang Fei were a peasant in ancient times, he might have looked upon Shen Jiu and remembered his face for the rest of his short life.
Then Xiang Fei realizes that Shen Jiu has stopped breathing. “Oh, fuck me. Are you-”
Shen Jiu’s breathing returns in frantic, ragged gasps. Xiang Fei has never heard anyone breathe like that before- like their lungs are being crushed in a vice and he cannot get enough air. Xiang Fei stands just as quickly as he’d collapsed, reaching for the glass of ice water in a blind panic. He’s not good with people. He's never been good with people. He doesn't know how to stop a panic attack once it starts. But he does know one thing that used to help Mobei-Jun when he was a kid. Back before Xiang Fei got fired from what was the most lucrative job he’d ever had.
Ice cubes.
Xiang Fei grabs one from the glass, shoving it into Shen Jiu’s hand. That seems to have startled him. Or at the very least, pull him out of his thoughts.
Shen Jiu stares down at the ice cube. Laughs. “What-”
“Can you match my breathing?” Xiang Fei breathes slow, exaggeratedly deep breaths. He’d watched that in a drama, once. The main girl was having a panic attack in the bathroom, and the male lead came bursting in to coach her through it. Xiang Fei liked the show. He’d liked the male lead even more.
Shen Jiu tries. He does. Xiang Fei knows it’s not an easy thing. But the fact that he’s trying means something, and he tells Shen Jiu as much. “Good job,” Xiang Fei thinks he says. Or maybe it’s something else. Good work, or good try.
And then, they are quiet. Time seems to fold in on itself, the air filled with nothing but the sound of Shen Jiu and Xiang Fei’s breathing. It’s strange. But it’s nice. Shen Jiu relaxes slowly, almost imperceptibly. Xiang Fei reaches for the bowl of chips. He does not notice the way that Shen Jiu begins to sway, turning his head away at the smell of the chips- fuck, did Xiang Fei accidentally grab the sour cream and onion ones?
Things are almost okay. Almost.
Right up until Shen Jiu leans over and pukes in the bowl of chips. And on Xiang Fei’s hands. It happened so fast that Xiang Fei didn’t even realize what was happening at first. There wasn’t enough time to move, or even just avert his gaze. One minute there was vomit. The next there was vomit.
Huh.
It almost looks like chips and dip.
That thought is enough for Xiang Fei to feel nausea tickling at the back of his throat.
And then Xiang Fei is also puking on the chips. And his hands. So much vomit. All over his hands.
“Why do people choose to do this?” Shen Jiu asks, sounding a little lost.
It takes Xiang Fei a moment to gather himself. He wipes his mouth. Then he stares down at his hands.
“Oh my god, we never even cleaned the bathroom.” Xiang Fei wants to cry. Fuck it. You know what? Xiang Fei is crying. Tears drip, scalding-hot down his cheeks. Xiang Fei is allowed to cry once and a while, dammit.
Of course that’s when Shen Jiu starts crying.
“God, I can’t.” Shen Jiu sobs. “I swear to god I caught Shen Yuan fucking Luo Binghe fucking in there.”
The tears rolling down Xiang Fei’s face are hot and terrible. They leave his face uncomfortably tacky. “He’s such an asshole,” he sobs.
“Which one?” Shen Jiu sniffles.
“Both of them,” Xiang Fei wails. “Stupid, sexy, assholes.”
“Oh god, I saw my brother’s whole asshoooooooooole.” Shen Jiu continues to sob. He buries his face, mouth ringed in vomit, in Xiang Fei’s shoulder. “And why was his dick so big? It was like a fucking wine bottle. How? Just- how?”
Xiang Fei wipes his face. Or he tries. The couch is so comfy. He’s so tired. They still have so much goddamn cleaning to do. “I hate him. I hate him so much.”
“At least you’re not related to him!” Shen Jiu replies a little hysterically. “Do you know how many terrible meet-cutes I’ve had to stop? How many confession letters I’ve had to burn?”
Xiang Fei is staring at Shen Jiu in horror. Oh my fucking god, who is writing Shen Yuan these confessions? “Bro, why are you burning them?”
“Men are terrible!” Shen Jiu snaps. “They’d only hurt him!”
Xiang Fei shoots him a look. His face feels weird. Oh god, has Xiang Fei’s face exploded yet? “Back up, who-”
“Too many people, Xiang Fei!” Shen Jiu says, a little hysterically. “Too many people. There were forty-seven in the last month alone.”
“You keep track?”
“Of course I keep track!” Shen Jiu snaps. “You think I just let them walk away?”
Xiang Fei is suddenly deeply afraid for his own safety. “...They’re not dead, are they?”
“Jesus fucking christ, I’m not a goddamn serial killer!” Shen Jiu crosses his arms, shrinking in on himself. “I just talk to them. Politely. Sometimes with a shovel.”
Is he… is he fucking pouting?
Wait, shovel? Xiang Fei knows exactly what shovel Shen Jiu is talking about. “Is that why you've had that shovel in your car since freshman year? I thought you were just really into gardening.”
“Two things can be true.” Shen Jiu shrugs. “Plus, if I’m into gardening, people don’t ask questions about my shovel.”
“Why are you telling me any of this?” Oh god, they’re going to find Xiang Fei beaten to death in a dark alley by a shovel. His mother will be so excited. His dad will be even more excited that he doesn’t have to pay child support anymore.
Shen Jiu leans in. His breath smells like blueberries in vomit. “Because no one will ever believe you,” He hisses, his voice a low whisper.
It dawns on Xiang Fei that Shen Jiu is right. Also, there is still vomit on his hands, and a whole half bath that still needs to be cleaned because Shen Yuan probably got laid in the bathtub. “Wait,” Xiang Fei holds up a hand. “Did you- Shen Jiu, do you watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine?”
“It’s a good show,” Shen Jiu shrugs. As if he hasn’t irreversibly altered Xiang Fei’s perception of him in under fifteen minutes.
“You like comedy?”
“I love comedy.” Shen Jiu replies flatly. “Why else do you think I let you hang out with my brother?”
“Oh my god,” So many things are making sense. “I always wondered why you let me hang around.”
“You add whimsy.” Shen Jiu leans back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “And you’re very convenient for distracting that horrible fucking mutt.”
“...mutt?” Who the fuck is the mutt? The Shens don’t own a dog. If they did, Xiang Fei is fairly certain that he’d know about it. Probably.
“Luo Binghe,” Shen Jiu seeths. “God, I hate him. Stupid, big dick having piece of-”
“Why are we so hyperfixated on his dick?” Xiang Fei hates everything about this conversation.
“Because people with big dicks are always evil!” Shen Jiu glares up at the ceiling. “It’s scientifically proven. Big dicks lead to evil and corrupting innocent little brothers.”
Xiang Fei reaches for his fucked up little THC vape thing. Then he remembers that his hands are still covered in vomit. “Oh god,” he gags. He can’t even get stoned enough to forget this conversation. This is a nightmare. “I need to go clean myself off.” Xiang Fei feels dirty. Both in a literal and an emotional sense.
“Heed my warning, Xiang Fei!” Shen Jiu calls after him as Xiang Fei grabs the bowl of chips and makes a beeline for the kitchen. “Big Dicks lead to evil!”
Xiang Fei drops the chips off in the kitchen before he goes to one of the en-suite bathrooms. The one just off of Shen Jiu’s room. Fuck it. The guy just admitted to threatening forty-seven people with a shovel and watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Xiang Fei is allowed to use the bathroom. What are the odds that Shen Yuan hooked up in this specific bathroom anyway? Shen Yuan probably wouldn’t do that to his brother, right?
Xiang Fei stares long and deep into his own reflection. Shen Jiu’s last words still ring in his ears. Big dicks lead to evil.
Shen Jiu is definitely going to murder Xiang Fei with his shovel.