𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐝
Xiaojun wants a girlfriend so badly... but his hunger is unpredictable.
⊹ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 5.4k ⊹ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 socially estranged female y/n x unstable college dealer Xiaojun ⊹ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 college au, dark au, strangers to lovers au, angst, smut ⊹ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 selling and purchasing of marijuana, swearing, self-deprecating thoughts, anxiety/panic attacks, pyromania, contact high, kissing, dry humping, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, y/n nearly burns to death ⊹ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 🦷 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 This fic takes place on New Years Eve. Drug terminology at the bottom. ⊹ 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 disclaimer | masterlist
“Um, I’ll tell Hendery if I need more,” the girl said stiffly. She hastily thrust several crumpled bills into Xiaojun’s chest before he could offer his number again.
The pair had stopped by an underclassmen’s residence hall to make the rounds for various New Year’s Eve functions. Naturally paranoid, Xiaojun wasn’t one to linger during transactions, especially ones involving halves. But in the spirit of the upcoming holiday, Xiaojun had resolved that this would be the year he wouldn’t be spending the celebrations alone.
“But – wait, you–” Xiaojun spluttered, letting the money flutter onto the seedy laminate flooring as he stepped further into her room.
Hendery grabbed Xiaojun’s scrawny bicep, giving him a look of warning. He scraped up the fallen dollars and waved apologetically at the girl and her roommate before guiding Xiaojun out the door.
“Trying to trade a couple grams for love again?” Hendery scolded, dragging Xiaojun down the ratty hallway. “They’re freshmen, you idiot.”
“I just wanted her number,” Xiaojun mumbled, bowing his chin in defeat.
“You know I have hers.” Loosening his grip on Xiaojun’s arm, Hendery let him mope in silence while they descended the stairwell that reeked of Juul vapor and cheap deodorant.
“But she’s gonna think it’s sus when an unknown number calls her!” Xiaojun whimpered after considering whether Hendery should send him her contact.
“And it’s less sus begging for her number whenever she wants to light up?” Hendery countered. Pretending not to see Xiaojun’s trembling chin, Hendery began stacking the cash, quietly counting. “$180… at least guilt is good for flipping dope,” he sighed while smoothing out the wrinkles.
“Just leave it okay,” Xiaojun said sullenly, pulling his mask over his nose as they neared the entrance of the dormitory.
I don’t want guilt tips, I just want a chance.
Grabbing Xiaojun’s wrist before he could reach inside his inner-coat pocket, Hendery shoved the neatly folded money into his best friend’s hand.
“She isn’t good enough for your pretty ass anyways,” Hendery consoled, adjusting his own mask.
He puffed out a breath of satisfaction as Xiaojun grudgingly nestled the payment away in his wallet and nodded miserably. Zipping up their winter coats, the two boys parted ways for their own New Year’s Eve preparations.
Pushing dope requires a precise balance between demand and secrecy, a precedent Xiaojun never adhered to. A well-known dealer on campus, Xiaojun was equally infamous for his desperation for a girlfriend, often offering dates in exchange for cannabis. The only thing preventing him from getting snitched on was the collective sympathy students had for him.
The problem was Xiaojun wanted the romance – the handholding, late-night walks, and lovemaking – and participants in the university’s night scene weren’t interested. Although admired for his slender jawline and elegantly styled hair, it was as if the female campus population could sniff Xiaojun’s delicacy through his Dior perfume. There had been times Xiaojun had succumbed to his body’s cravings and agreed to impassive fucking but he always regretted it.
Like today.
Determined to purge himself from the faceless girl from a few nights ago, Xiaojun was queuing for COVID testing at the student center. Unfortunately, amid numerous prohibited holiday parties, many other students had the same idea; the line winding up a flight of stairs. Carefully perching himself on the portion of the step yet to be sprinkled with rock salt and slosh, Xiaojun sighed loudly. He would be here for a while.
Flitting his eyes around the dreary building for a source of entertainment, Xiaojun noticed that in front of him, sitting a few steps up, you were busily fiddling with something in your lap. Dressed in water-resistant sweats, a long-sleeved compression shirt, and stocky timberlands, your black ensemble closely resembled Xiaojun’s own attire. Initially prickled with annoyance that you managed to look better in the same outfit, this sentiment dissipated once he realized you were folding origami.
Your pants swished noisily as you stood to trail behind the drifting line up the stairs. Xiaojun briskly picked himself up after you, gingerly admiring your figure. Positioning yourself over a circular sticker on the landing that marked off proper social distancing, you continued pleating the paper.
Your hands were clean. No bits of bud wedged in your fingernails, slender burn marks from being too friendly with lighters, or scaling skin from gloveless smoke sessions in the snow. Xiaojun liked your hands.
He gaped at your diligent fingers contorting the miniature paper into meaningless folds, only for a dove to miraculously emerge. Conscious of Xiaojun’s attention, you casually offered him the dainty bird and his own square that fit inside the shape of his palm. Unable to examine your face properly through your mask, Xiaojun continued watching your hands meticulously shape a new sheet of paper. Eventually, he looked down at his untouched project with hesitation.
Xiaojun had never so much as folded a standard piece of paper for a birthday card. Having sold pot since he could operate a lighter, he wasn’t exactly included amongst the artistic sort.
It was a blank sheet, kind of like… Xiaojun’s fingers moved before his mind could. There was one thing he could do competently with small white papers. Rolling the paper into a hollow cylinder, complete with a twisted top and a narrowed base, Xiaojun expertly produced a filterless and weedless joint.
Foolishly beaming down at his empty doobie, Xiaojun offered his finished product to you as you extended another white bird to him, a swan. Analyzing the spiraled paper, you pinched your brows in confusion.
“What is…? Oh.”
You spread an amused smile that Xiaojun could faintly recognize through the wrinkled skin around your eyes. You were indifferent about marijuana, aware of its presence but uninterested in experimentation.
“Not impressed?” Xiaojun asked, nervously shuffling his fingers through his bangs.
“No, I’ve just never seen one up close,” you confessed uncomfortably, tucking the rolled paper into the inner pocket of your coat. You fidgeted under his eyes that darted back and forth on your face. You hadn’t been looked at so closely since stay at home orders were announced. Intimidated under his scrutiny, you lowered your gaze, eyes wandering to Xiaojun’s untied shoelaces.
“Here, let me help.”
You instinctively walked to Xiaojun’s side and crouched down to tighten the dampened cords. When you knotted the two strings, you noticed the absence of the plastic tips – the ends of the laces looked singed. Both sneakers were streaked in ash powder. Looking up to ask Xiaojun about the state of his shoes, your words got caught in your throat.
“Six feet too far for you, sweetheart?” Xiaojun said with an uncommon surge of confidence.
Your head tilted too far backward, you unbalanced the forward pressure on your toes, stumbling back onto your ass. Immediately bending down and curving his arms under your armpits, Xiaojun smoothly raised you to your feet. He could hear your exhales through your mask, feel your pulse on your back. He hoped you couldn’t feel his.
“It’s y/n,” you corrected, captivated under his darkened eyes. Standing chest to chest, beyond the lavish fragrance Xiaojun wore unsparingly, you sensed a different smell, something strange.
“I’m Xiaojun. Will – will you wait for me after your test?” Xiaojun murmured, blushing darkly as he reluctantly stepped towards a beckoning volunteer with a clipboard. You nodded awkwardly before approaching another volunteer.
Anxiously yanking at your hair, you swallowed your labored breaths. You had so little in-person contact for the past few months, you weren’t quite sure what was normal anymore. You were certain that he wasn’t. His thick brows and somber eyes made it feel like he was peeking through your skin. But that was also what intrigued you.
When the medical assistant punctured your nose, you held your breath and your tears. Glancing across the room, you observed Xiaojun hurriedly collect his tears onto the back of his palm. You turned away. Even though it was a natural response to the nasal swab, you had never seen a man cry so easily.
Sinking his overgrown fingernails into his forearm, Xiaojun was reminded his results would likely be sent in the next 24 hours and how to access them. The voice gurgled distantly in the back of his head but Xiaojun seemed to understand, instantly fleeing from the chair to the nearest bathroom when they finished their monologue.
He knew you had seen him wipe away his tears, after he had just embarrassed himself in front of you too.
I need to hide. I want to leave. I need to escape.
Jerking open one of the bathroom stalls, Xiaojun heaved ruggedly while sliding his back down to the floor. Mentally combing through his previous interaction with you, he groaned in anguish, tucking his head in his arms.
“I fucking offered her an origami joint,” Xiaojun moaned between his knees.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why would I do something so stupid? I’m so pathetic. No one will ever want me. I want someone to want me. I’m sick of being alone. I want to be comforted.
Feeling his lungs expand and contract painfully in his chest, Xiaojun automatically tugged a lighter from his breast pocket and started reciting the breathing exercises Hendery wrote for him:
“Ten… I’ll live. Nine… it’s not the end of the world. Eight… It’s okay that not everything is under control. Seven…”
Harshly rotating the spark wheel under the side of his thumb, Xiaojun concentrated on the slim fire, igniting the lighter each time he took a sharp inhale. It only took him one rotation through the confirmations to return his breathing to normal.
Tearing off a square of the one-ply toilet paper, he dipped an edge into the steady light. Xiaojun hungrily stared at the tissue, the flame licking the sides in a darkened brown before peeling down the material into a shriveling black. Dropping the torched paper in the toilet bowl, Xiaojun crammed the lighter back into the upper pocket, grinding his teeth with relish.
Post-meltdown ritual complete.
Fuck, she must have already left. Clenching his sweaty palm around the bathroom latch, Xiaojun weakly forced himself onto his feet. Once he had fixed his rumpled hair in the mirror and double washed his hands, he opened the door to–– you.
You had waited for him.
As nonchalantly as possible, you gestured for him to accompany you to the stairs. You descended them in silence, wondering if Xiaojun was going to explain his peculiar sprint to the bathroom. Xiaojun, on the other hand, was flipping his shit.
SHE WAITED FOR ME. HOLY FUCK. What does that mean? Does she like me? Is that possible? What does she want? Does she just want kush? Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.
Outside the reception area of the student center, your vision glazed under the afternoon sun. Crisp pillows of snow glistening under its frail rays, you acclimated your pupils by focusing on Xiaojun’s black puffer. You had become so accustomed to the controlled indoor climate, any shift in temperature and light rendered you somewhat immobilized. Lifting your hood to comfort your sensitive ears, you pivoted yourself to look at Xiaojun expectedly.
“I know we just met but I-was-hoping-you-would-want-to-come-over-to-my-apartment?” Xiaojun pushed out in a visible mushrooming breath. Already having humiliated himself, he couldn’t meet your eyes, talking to your shoulder instead. Not bothering to check your reaction, he continued rambling: “Only–only if you want to, but I really like–”
“Xiaojun! It’s okay, just lead me,” you reassured.
“Can – can I take off your face mask?” Xiaojun requested shyly.
“Um, I can do it,” you confirmed, unlooping the elastic straps. Pocketing his own mask, Xiaojun stepped down onto the street smeared in gray slush and turned to make sure you were following. When you smiled reassuringly, his chest squeezed severely. Nuzzling his exposed nose into his coat’s collar, he fawned over your newly exposed face from the corner of his eyes.
“I–I haven’t seen you around,” Xiaojun said shakily. Constantly expanding his client base, he was naturally well-versed in the campus community’s intricacies. He had yet to see you at any university functions, the typical or abnormal ones.
“Because I’m not. I rarely leave my room,” you admitted. You obeyed a sensible approach to school in the time of the coronavirus. Understanding that even returning to campus for the semester put you at risk, you didn’t leave for unsanctioned social events or lectures that were recorded. Your self-imposed isolation had effectively stripped you of most communication and a piece of your humanity.
“Why,” Xiaojun looked at you with wide eyes.
“No one to leave for. I don’t need anything but my laptop,” you answered frankly.
“What about the origami?” Xiaojun asked timidly, fingering the scrunched paper birds lodged in his pocket.
“What about it?”
“Seems like you need it,” Xiaojun shrugged.
“I guess it calms me,” you surmised. “It’s just something to distract me when my anxiety spikes.”
“Your coping mechanisms are a lot better than mine,” Xiaojun laughed hoarsely. “But that sounds… lonely. You – you could leave for me,” he added with a hopeful smile.
“Oh, uh, thank you,” you replied, heart prickling. He’s so sweet.
Maybe you had been inside too long and all those precautions had made you stir-crazy. Although you took the COVID test as a safety measure before returning home, you also sought contact with real bodies. You had missed effortless conversations untainted by a screen, the way your heart fluctuated under different circumstances, and especially the alluring ache of human touch.
You inched closer to Xiaojun’s side while transversing the apartment’s entrance hall and teetering into the tiny lift. Openly gawking at your face in the dimly-lit elevator, Xiaojun restlessly spread lip salve across his coarse lips. Before he could cap the stick, you plucked the tube from his hand. Liberally applying the wax on your own mouth, Xiaojun sheepishly rubbed his neck while zeroing in on your plush lips.
What is she thinking? Is she thinking what I’m thinking? Does she want me too?
Unbuttoning his coat, Xiaojun unzipped yours as well, bunching them both under his arms as you walked down the corridor. Wrestling out his keys, Xiaojun struggled to insert the blade into his doorknob. Holding open the door, he motioned for you to enter first.
A pungent odor greeted your defrosting nose, coating your airways, and shallowing your breath. Wheezing under the bitter aroma, your body struggled to accept the foreign fumes.
“Are you okay?” Xiaojun asked. He pushed the coats onto the kitchen island and uncertainly placing his hand on your back.
Roughly exhaling, you shook your head. It was like a murky vapor had trickled through your forehead and was gradually immobilizing your limbs. In addition to being the place where they stored, cooked, and assembled various weed products, Xiaojun and Hendery had hotboxed in every room of their apartment for nearly four years, practically marinating the space in marijuana essence. You had never even seen someone smoke before.
“I–I, shit, I need to lay down,” you choked out. Xiaojun ushered you towards his bedroom, slamming the door closed as you hurled yourself onto his neatly tucked comforter. Curling up into a ball, you coughed feverishly.
“Fuck, uhh just–just listen to me,” Xiaojun said his eyes widening with fear. Frantically wrapping his arms around your shuddering figure, he ignored the pull to his chest pocket. “Ten… you’re gonna be okay. Nine… breathe y/n. Seven… inhale. Six… exhale.”
Concentrating on Xiaojun’s lulling voice, your breathing slowly steadied. Letting your taut muscles fall slack in Xiaojun’s grip, he kissed the back of your head remorsefully.
“I’m sorry, you’ve really never been around ganj before. I – I shouldn’t have brought you here,” Xiaojun whispered in your hair.
“You just need to open a fucking window,” you rasped. Wearily twisting your head backward to look at him, you pressed your lips against his in gratitude. “But whatever that counting stuff was, it helped.” Xiaojun wasn’t sure whether he would melt or cry under your gentle smile.
“Hendery taught it to me,” Xiaojun informed. You tilted your head in confusion. “My best friend and suitemate, you’ll probably see him later.”
The dense air already consuming your senses, you began adapting to the new smell. Inhaling deeply, you dreamily connected your lips with his, supporting your contorted neck by grabbing his shoulder. Sucking on your bottom lip, Xiaojun pressed his chest firmly against your backside. Sliding his hands up your stomach, he cupped your breast.
“You’re–you’re not wearing a bra,” he gulped when his fingers didn’t meet any resistance. Sinking into your boobs over your shirt, he brushed over your supple nubs. “Shit–your nipples are so hard,” Xiaojun groaned, cock stiffening from the sensation.
Your body craved satisfaction. It had been over a year since a dick had been pressed into your ass. Whining, you rotated your butt in blood-rushing circles against his erection while pushing his hands to grope you harder. Still fully clothed, Xiaojun rolled his hips desperately against your ass, hands kneading your boobs roughly. Intently watching your eyelids flicker closed and your mouth hang open slightly, the sight of you licking your lips sent a little too much blood rushing to his dick.
Getting impatient, Xiaojun pushed you onto your stomach and vigorously humped your ass. Wedging his clothed boner between your sweats-covered ass cheeks, the material of his briefs tugged around his shaft in a way that made his arms wobble. It was too much for Xiaojun. He had an ungodly weakness for the female’s rear curves and yours had him whimpering and cumming too soon.
“Did you… orgasm?” you asked, flipping onto your back under Xiaojun’s unmoving figure. Covering his eyes with his hands, Xiaojun wailed in shame. Trying to fight your smile, you pulled his shoulders down to get him to lay on top of your body.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” you comforted, wrenching his hands away. “It was hot and it’s not like I can’t get you hard again.” Bringing one of his hands under your waistband, into your underwear, you directed his fingers to rub over your slit.
It made you wet knowing Xiaojun could get off from your ass alone, that he couldn’t control his arousal even though you both had yet to strip. Dragging his nimble middle digit up and down your swollen labia, Xiaojun let out a strained moan.
“I want to make you come too,” Xiaojun whined, sluggishly pumping his pointer finger into your hole. You were so tight he could only push his knuckle in. While fucking you with his pointer, Xiaojun rubbed his wide thumb against the rim of your clitoris until you were writhing uncontrollably and your pussy made sloppy squishing sounds. Seeping in his middle finger next to his pointer, Xiaojun probed your hole by relentlessly scissoring against your soft flesh.
Unable to remain still while he stretched open your vulva, you slipped your hand past his pants. His underwear damp from recently ejaculating, you ignored the stickiness and stoked up and down Xiaojun’s quickly swelling length. Xiaojun’s thighs quivered as you rubbed him until he was too horny to consciously pleasure you, his fingers mercilessly surged in and out of your cramped walls.
“I–I need… to be… inside,” Xiaojun gasped, pre-cum beginning to ooze from his tip. Withdrawing your hand in agreement, you ungracefully hoisted your hips off the mattress to shove your sweats and panties off your legs. Grasping at the shirt’s material behind your back, you heaved it over your head before straddling Xiaojun’s freshly naked body.
“You smell so good,” you purred, dragging your moist lips along his chest. Gliding your tongue into the indented muscles of Xiaojun’s chest, you deeply inhaled the herbal scent. Tracing his pronounced V-line with your tongue, you almost licked down to the base of his cock before Xiaojun flipped you over.
“I want head so badly but I want your pussy more,” he said in a strangled voice. You nodded and reached for his dangling erection. “Wait! Don’t–don’t you want a condom,” Xiaojun stuttered as you brushed the reddened head of his penis across your dripping entrance.
“Birth control,” you moaned.
Hands trembling, Xiaojun sunk the head of his dick smoothly into your cunt. Hovering above you, Xiaojun wanted to make sure he memorized every expression of pleasure that contorted your pretty face.
“Fuck–wait, wait, slow down. I haven’t done anything–mphhh–in months,” you moaned as Xiaojun lowered himself further inside, his bulge deliciously scraping within your warm walls.
“I–ahhh–can’t c-come this s-soon again,” Xiaojun stammered. Dipping your ass as far into the mattress as possible, you squirmed uncomfortably as your insides curled unbearably. The stretch you could handle, but the churning above your groin had you curling your toes in a disorienting mixture of satisfaction and pain.
“But I want you to,” you whispered.
Having familiarized yourself with the knotting in your stomach, you strained your hips upwards. Muscle memory seemingly washing over Xiaojun, he thoughtlessly began thrusting into you at a deprived pace. Lips parted, you panted heavily while the slight curve of his cock continued to stretch you out.
With his body stiffly planked over yours, Xiaojun sunk deeply into you, his exertion inflaming his skin in heat. Pressing your thighs into the bed to widen your entrance, you scrapped at Xiaojun’s back each time he hit your cervix.
“Please cum, cum,” Xiaojun whimpered, his cock pulsating in a desire for release.
Each time Xiaojun rammed into you, the sound of his balls slapping your ass rang louder than his moans, indicating his determination to make you reach your climax. Returning his thumb to your clit, Xiaojun frantically stroked the nub, finally sending your brain tumbling and your orgasm crashing. Moaning your name, he let himself release with you.
Xiaojun’s warm seed mingling with your milk, you fidgeted in discomfort while he kept his dick embedded inside your vagina. When Xiaojun pulled out, he slumped his face into your chest to suck your erect nipples. You could feel your mixed fluids leak onto his comforter. He remained draped across your body until your breathing evened out.
“Come on,” Xiaojun tugged at your boneless arm, “let’s shower together.”
“Tired… sleep,” you groaned, stuffing your burning face into a cool portion of the comforter.
“Please? I’ll help you wash,” Xiaojun insisted.
Disregarding your protests, Xiaojun gathered your sprawled clothes and carried you to the bathroom attached to his room. Gently depositing you into the porcelain tub, Xiaojun had you choose a water temperature before massaging shampoo and conditioner adoringly through your hair. Kissing wherever the soapy loofa brushed over, Xiaojun dried you off, lathered lotion onto your skin, and helped you into your clothes before taking care of himself. Whatever soreness you felt between your thighs seemed to dissipate under his tender hands.
While Xiaojun combed through his hair, a bang at the front of the apartment alerted him that Hendery was home.
“Who’s that?”
“Hendery – come meet him?”
In the common room, you discovered a stash of rolling papers tucked between the couches’ cushions. While Xiaojun introduced you to Hendery, you decided to fold another dove. You offered the white bird to Hendery with a genuine smile which he took hesitantly. He pulled Xiaojun to the side as you continued folding in your lap.
“She seems a bit vanilla… don’t you think?” Hendery said tensely, his eyes darting over to your seated figure on the carpet.
“Why does it matter,” Xiaojun muttered, his eyes trained on you, already dashing to your side.
Hendery sighed. He had seen this too many times. Xiaojun fell in love at a sickening rate and it was getting worse every time.
“If she isn’t able to handle you, you won’t be able to handle yourself,” Hendery murmured, watching as Xiaojun’s face stretched into an eager smile as you let him lace his fingers with yours.
“Can– can you come with me somewhere?” Xiaojun requested in your hair as he hugged you from behind.
“Sure, I have time,” you said, glancing at your phone.
“Okay, grab your coat,” Xiaojun said.
“Where are we going?” you asked, accepting Xiaojun’s arm, and reclining your head dreamily against his shoulder. Stepping outside, you didn’t bother pulling your mask out of your pocket. The cold couldn’t penetrate the soaring feeling in your chest and the haziness in your brain.
“Hendery and I’s usual smoke spot. I – I want to watch the sunset with you,” Xiaojun said with a shy smile.
The area Xiaojun guided you to was lightly forested, all surfaces stiffly stacked in several inches of snow, muting any colors or faint sounds. You sluggishly walked in comfortable silence, leaning on each other’s bodies. The sun winked through the bare tree branches while you listened to the crunching snow being compressed under your boots.
When the sun wilted into the horizon, the two of you were still walking in a flittering daze. The two of you unknowingly passed by corroding private property signs and stepped over empty cigar packs trapped under the snow. There were no wheel tracks or footprints except the Timberland stars you stamped into the powder.
Time felt suspended, your movements, soupy. Xiaojun kept tugging you closer but there was no space left to close.
“Is that a – a train?” you muttered, identifying the blurry shape in the fading light.
“Yeah, it’s a freight train about a mile long. Hendery and I like wandering around on top.”
“And you guys get stoned there...” you trailed off in disbelief.
“Pretty much.”
As you walked closer, a feeling of unease coiled in your chest. The steel structure loomed over your body while your feet only seemed to sag deeper into the snow. You started to discern how cold you were when you followed Xiaojun up the metal ladder on the side of one of the cars. A spacious foot between each peeling rung, the contact with the freezing metal seemed to widen the cracks creasing your hands like small incisions.
The walkway on the roof of the train was etched with bottle-cap sized holes and a noticeable lack of any guard rails. Too scared to stand, you crawled on your hands and knees to Xiaojun’s feet. You lost feeling in your kneecaps first, your fingertips and nose dipped in a searing numbness quickly after. While Xiaojun indifferently surveyed the blotching sky, curling his fingers heavenwards as if he could disrupt the colors, your body shivered violently at the wide expanse.
“I have to go now,” you murmured.
“Go?” Xiaojun finally turned to look down at your cowering frame, his eyes flashing with alarm. “Are-are you just cold? I can warm you up!” Xiaojun hurriedly walked to the edge of the train car, crouching, and reaching for the top rung.
“Well, I am cold,” you said hesitantly, climbing down after him. Balancing onto the iron piece that locks two rail cars together, Xiaojun stabilized his hand against the outside wall of one container before shoving open the opposing door panel with his shoulder.
“Um, is this allowed?” you laughed nervously.
“Hendery and I forced the door open ages ago, we come inside when it gets too cold,” Xiaojun reassured. Taking his outstretched hand, you peered into the rectangular box, but with no source of light filtering in, the space was obscured. Xiaojun walked in with confident strides, stooping down to grip something.
In the darkness, he knowingly unscrewed a metal cork and grasped a melon-sized ceramic bowl, letting a viscous liquid slosh into the bowl. Plugging the opening once the fluid filled the bowl midway, Xiaojun removed the lighter from his breast pocket, spiraled the spark wheel, and leisurely retracted his hand when the oil inflamed.
“What the fuck,” you gaped down at the considerable fire and the adjacent barrel of crude oil laying on its side in alarm.
“Whatever company used this train must have forgotten a barrel when they ditched everything here. Hendery and I do this all the time so stop worrying. Now close the door and sit with me. You’ll get warm.” Xiaojun tried reaching for you but you stepped backward.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” you started slowly, entranced by the glowing bowl. “I have to go home. I haven’t seen my family since summer.”
“But, I-I need you more,” Xiaojun pleaded, tugging you further in the box. “And I’m always alone on New Year’s. Wait till midnight and then you can go.”
“I can’t, Xiaojun.”
Your eyes focusing in the flickering light, you noticed the floor was a different color from the dark green walls. You stood on tan plywood that bent under your staggering feet.
You looked at him worryingly before turning, only for Xiaojun to bound forward, aggressively pulling your arm towards him. But instead of falling into his chest, you bashed your backside against the barrel, accidentally ripping off the cork with your faltering heel.
“Shit!” you squeaked as the murky substance gushed out onto the floor. Falling to your knees, you desperately grappled for the stopper in the fluid, messily jamming it into the mouth after the oil had blanketed the floor.
“Ten... I’ll–I’ll live. Nine... it’s – it’s not the end of the w-world,” Xiaojun blubbered on the floor.
Clutching his shins, he rocked back and forth with his sweats drenched in oil. You watched in horror as he periodically ignited his lighter in a strange trance, the thin light illuminating the tears slipping down his cheeks.
“Xiaojun! What are you doing,” you cried, lunging for the plastic container in his hand. Harshly pivoting so that he was pressed against the wall, Xiaojun splashed oil up to his wrists, and yet he continued, his voice louder and scratchy.
“EIGHT... It’s okay that n-not everything is under c-control. SEVEN... you’re –you’re stronger than you think. SIX... NO ONE CAN HURT YOU–”
“XIAOJUN, please, hand me the lighter. I won’t go, I’ll stay with you till midnight, just give me the lighter, I promise,” you begged, cautiously stepping towards his shaking body. Xiaojun looked up at you with terrified eyes, hyperventilating as he flicked the lighter on and off at a nauseating rate.
“I know you’ll leave me... they all do,” Xiaojun whimpered, sinking lower onto the oil-soaked wood.
“Xiaojun please...”
“Xiaojun,” an unwavering voice repeated behind you.
“Hendery.” Relief flooding through Xiaojun’s stiffened limbs, he immediately stood up to give his best friend a hug. “She’s going to leave me,” he sobbed into his shoulder.
“Breathe Xiaojun, you’re going to be okay,” Hendery instructed gently, prying the lighter from his hand and securely pocketing it.
“I–I can’t,” Xiaojun bawled, heaving unevenly. Guiding Xiaojun to the back of the container where the oil hadn’t reached, Hendery had him lay down.
“Inhale and exhale Xiaojun. I’m here... you’re safe,” Hendery murmured.
Sedated by his friend’s presence, Xiaojun curled himself in a ball and limply passed out on Hendery’s lap. You slid down a wall until you landed roughly on your ass. Tipping your throbbing head into your hands, you surrendered yourself into tears.
“I’m sorry, I tried but I–I couldn’t be enough for him,” you wept, shaking your head as you scooted further away. It was too cold to cry, the salty liquid stinging your bloodless cheeks.
“Xiaojun’s a nice guy y/n, he just wants to be loved,” Hendery whispered.
“Nice guys don’t almost burn down trains... and themselves,” you said weakly.
“I’m all he’s got,” Hendery choked back a sob, “and I can’t be enough for him either. He–he just needs some catching up to us. Please.”
You stared at Hendery for too long, his eyes piercing you with guilt.
You found yourself helping Hendery carry Xiaojun back to their apartment, ignoring the winter night gnawing your skin and your buzzing phone. You offered to bathe him on your own, dressing him in pajamas that Hendery had laid out for you, and tucking him in his bed. When you stared down at his closed eyelids he looked so... fragile.
After you showered and changed into a random shirt pulled from Xiaojun’s drawer, you joined him in bed. When you wrapped his arms around your shoulders, he squeezed you suffocatingly.
“You stayed,” Xiaojun whispered.
“You got your wish,” you murmured. “Happy New Year’s.”
1 gram of weed fills one bowl or joint, averages around $10 (28g = 1oz). Half is half an ounce of weed (14g); a lot of weed and a lot of money. Doobie or Joint are like cigarettes but with cannabis. Kush is a strain of cannabis. Ganj, short for ganja is slang for marijuana.
𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬 click to read the series
