Work Text:
Mu Qing will forever regret going out with Xie Lian and Shi Qingxuan that day. It’ll fuck him up not for weeks to come, not for months to come, but for literal years to come, and it’ll end with him seeing an online article about how smoking makes your cum taste bad, and it’ll end in him sucking Feng Xin off in a library which literally has cameras.
It’s going to end in the most humiliating day of his life.
(And, somewhere down the line, it’ll end in a conversation with Feng Xin, in which the other admits that even though he’s stopped smoking, his cum still tastes bad. And that he was just saying it so Mu Qing would keep away from cigarettes for longer. And Mu Qing does succeed, except for when he doesn’t.)
So, Mu Qing is out with Xie Lian and Shi Qingxuan, mainly for shopping reasons. The shopping is done by Xie Lian and Shi Qingxuan, or well, Mu Qing does it for Xie Lian, and Shi Qingxuan is meant to do it for Xie Lian given that his taste in clothes is the one of an eighty-year old grandpa, but she’s much more interested in shopping for herself.
So, once Shi Qingxuan has acquired roughly six large bags (Mu Qing stopped counting at three and he’s too lazy to look over to count) of clothes that Mu Qing couldn’t even afford one article of, and once Xie Lian has a well-sized set of two bags full of new clothes that have been approved for public wear by both Mu Qing and Shi Qingxuan, they’re ready to take a bus back to their homes. They all live sort of close to each other and just get off at different stations, so they’ll catch the same line.
However, the way back to the main bus station that’s closest to the city center has… a lot of advertisement on the walls framing the different buildings and the train tracks going through the town’s middle. Mu Qing has already spotted one for a pet insurance. Another one tried advertising protein shakes, which Feng Xin would love, and which Mu Qing would tell him off for in case he bought them, given they’re stupidly expensive and you can literally just eat stuff that naturally has a lot of protein. The one in front of him tell him to not call people while driving, which seems weird to place in the city center – aren’t those usually on highways?
And, well, after a few more steps, Shi Qingxuan happily vaping and chattering away about that emo boy neighbour of hers that Mu Qing is sure has the most red flags he’s ever heard of anyone having, the advertisement that is about to ruin his life appears.
It’s a black ad, except that, in the background, you can make out the shape of lungs. In bright red writing on it, as large as possible, is written ‘Save your own life now. Stop smoking’; in white, right below, some contact information for a seminar about how to quit smoking, and some more random details about the common side effects of smoking are scattered all throughout the poster in dark grey writing, so that you would only look at them after taking in the dramatically phrased red writing.
Shi Qingxuan also looks at the advertisement, and then at her vape; it’s strawberry. Mu Qing is absolutely convinced that Shi Qingxuan colour-codes her vapes in respect to her outfits, because she’s currently wearing that strawberry dress that was so popular online a year ago, all pink with strawberries on it, showing off her boobs (he’s gay, he’s allowed to comment on Shi Qingxuan’s boobs) very well. She is however wearing a white, nearly see-through blouse above it since it’s not the warmest it could be, even though the weather definitely warrants a dress.
Her gaze flits back to the advertisement, then back to her vape.
“Eh. Vaping isn’t that harmful, is it? It’s probably fine, whatever, whatever, He Xuan smokes cigarettes every day, I’ve seen him, in comparison to him I’m fine-“
It’s only then that Xie Lian actively looks up at the advertisement, his eyes going wide suddenly.
And he winces. Xie Lian winces, and it’s possibly one of the most pathetic noises Mu Qing has ever heard from him; and then, he looks up at Mu Qing.
Mu Qing freezes.
Yeah.
Right.
Because He Xuan (aforementioned red flag emo edgelord) isn’t the only one that smokes.
So does Mu Qing. Quite a lot. Basically a pack a day; one cigarette is leftover at the end of the day, okay, which is very important, because that way he can tell Feng Xin that he’s lying when he complains about him smoking a pack a day once more.
Slowly, Xie Lian skims the rest of the words and details on the poster (85% of lung-cancer deaths are smokers, erectile dysfunction, cavities, higher risk of heart attacks, etc.), and then looks back at Mu Qing; or well, nearly looks back at Mu Qing. He catches himself fast enough, diverting his gaze instead.
“Y-yeah,” Xie Lian says, instead turning around to Shi Qingxuan and giving her a quick smile, “you don’t even vape that much. You’re probably fine.”
Well, that much is true; Shi Qingxuan is probably fine.
But is Mu Qing?
*
“Mu Qing, why are you in such a bad fucking mood today?” Feng Xin grunts, looking up from his phone, since he apparently just died in Subway Surfers; Mu Qing has no fucking clue why he got himself a boyfriend that plays Subway Surfers, and he shouldn’t think too deeply about it, or else he might just break up with Feng Xin.
“Nothing,” Mu Qing says, stirring his fried noodles with vegetable and chicken (protein for Feng Xin’s muscles) once more. It’s almost done, which is good, because he’s starving. He’s not sure whether it’s related to that, or whether it’s because he hasn’t eaten in literal hours despite having worked in Hua Cheng’s presence.
“Come on, Qing-er,” oh, he’s ‘Qing-er’ing him now, “something’s up. You’ve been awful today. The past two days, actually. I mean, yesterday, you nearly threw the controller at me when I won a single Mario Kart race.”
“Because you cheated.”
“I got a Bullet Bill at the right time, that’s not cheating.”
“No, you definitely manipulated the game.”
“How would I- oh, whatever, you’re trying to distract me.”
Ah, Mu Qing has been caught. He can’t let that on, though, so he just snorts in contempt, and stirs his noodles a little harder about it.
Not that Feng Xin would give up so fast, no, of course not.
“Come on. Something is wrong, isn’t it?”
The fact Feng Xin hasn’t noticed what’s wrong by himself would be surprising if he was anyone but himself; or, well, not exactly. They’ve both been out and about the last two days, barely seeing each other, not even eating breakfast together. This is their first meal together and ah, Mu Qing missed it, but even this can’t cure him of the anger at nothing whatsoever that’s been gnawing away at him for the past thirty-six hours or so.
“No. Nothing’s wrong, for fuck’s sake!” he sighs, very tempted to pick up a noodle and fling it at Feng Xin’s face, but he manages to refrain from doing so.
Good. Control yourself. He takes a deep breath, then turns off the stove.
“Food’s done,” he announces, “get your plate over here.”
Feng Xin just grumbles at him, clearly not happy with what just transpired. Or rather, what didn’t transpire. Yet, hunger clearly winning, he grabs both his and Mu Qing’s plates and walks over to the stove so that Mu Qing can shovel noodles, vegetables, and chicken onto both of their plates.
Clearly pleased with the food, half-forgetting about their almost-argument, Feng Xin walks back to the table with a satisfied little smile. He drops down into his chair and starts eating.
Mu Qing follows a little slower; usually, he smokes a cigarette while cooking (not inside, he goes outside whenever he can leave the stove alone), and then after.
This time, he doesn’t, because he’s made his decision.
Mu Qing is going to stop smoking, no matter what.
And he’s going to succeed, because the humiliation of failing would be even worse than the humiliation of even trying to stop already is.
“Ah, these noodles are so good, Qing-er, truly your signature dish-“
“My signature dish is Ju Yang fried in sesame oil with a side of tomato rice,” Mu Qing replies, in what’s a mixture of annoyance at Feng Xin clearly trying to get onto his good side, and an absolute incapability to deal with compliments in any way, shape, or form.
“You…” Feng Xin starts, his smile turning into a frown. A single noodle hangs out from between his lips that he slurps back into his mouth. “You’re actually insufferable sometimes, you know that?”
Oh, Mu Qing knows, but what feels even more insufferable to him than himself is the thought of not smoking once dinner is over.
The rest of their meal passes in almost silence, Feng Xin in the end giving up on trying to talk to Mu Qing about these things much.
Once the meal is over…
Well.
Once the meal is over, Mu Qing doesn’t smoke a cigarette, no matter how much he’s yearning for one.
Feng Xin raises an eyebrow when he struts straight to the sink to get the plates washed up instead of outside, but then just joins him and quietly dries the dishes off, putting them away, while Mu Qing uses an extraordinary amount of dish soap in the absolutely delusional hope that dish soap fumes will somehow help his current craving for a cigarette.
The fumes don’t help him, to no one’s surprise, and he’s left feeling like death itself afterwards.
“You wanna watch a movie once you’ve had your cigarettes?”
As if the sponge had killed his mom, Mu Qing throws it back into the sink, leaving it looking all soppy and wet and sad. Just how he feels.
“…No,” he says, and Feng Xin just nods.
“Alright? Sex, then?”
“…No. Yes to the movie, though,” he says, and just walks over to the sofa.
Without going outside.
Because he’s not going to give up on day two of this. No matter what. He’s never going to give up.
“Wait.”
Ugh. Here it is. Mu Qing has been dreading this conversation for two days now.
“Are you quitting?”
He doesn’t even answer verbally, because the way he flinches is probably more than enough for Feng Xin to go buy.
“You’re actually quitting. Why the actual fuck would you even try? You smoke a pack a day.”
“I don’t-“
“The one fucking cigarette you keep for appearances doesn’t count, Mu Qing. Why the hell would you try to stop smoking?”
“Because-“ he starts, but the words get stuck in his throat.
Because Xie Lian sounded and looked so horribly concerned for me and I can’t bear to die in front of him because I made the clever decision to pick up smoking when I was an angsty teenager?
Yeah. Mu Qing couldn’t say these words out loud.
“Because I want to,” he says, but that’s such a clear lie that Feng Xin only really gives a short snort, then throws a towel at him.
“Alright, try your best then, addict. Time to wash up the rest. I’ll do the soap part now.”
Mu Qing glares at him in something between love and hate and gets to work.
(He knows that Feng Xin is supportive of the idea, but clearly he doesn’t believe in him. Mu Qing is so going to prove him wrong and stop smoking forever.)
*
“Mu Qing, I swear to god, I need you to smoke, you’re actually insufferable at this point.”
“And I need you to shut your stupid mouth if there’s nothing you can possibly contribute to a meaningful conversation.”
“I- okay, alright, fine, have it your way then.”
Feng Xin, drenched in coke from head to toe, looks at Mu Qing.
“I’m going to shower. You calm down during that time.”
Mu Qing just raises an eyebrow, another snarky remark on his tongue, however, Feng Xin is gone before he can say anything else, which is probably for the better.
It’s not like Feng Xin is going to do the laundry.
Listen, okay, none of this was Mu Qing’s fault; it’s not his fault that Feng Xin bought coke zero instead of diet coke, and that coke zero tastes like utter crap. It’s not his fault that Feng Xin got a bit snappy about Mu Qing berating him in the worst tone known to man. It’s not his fault that it ended in them arguing, because Mu Qing’s temperament has become worse and worse over the past four days; this marks his sixth day of not having touched a cigarette. It’s not his fault that, when anger bubbled up inside of him like he was a godforsaken volcano that was going to actually kill his boyfriend on the spot, instead of doing that, he instead took the coke zero, and emptied it all over Feng Xin’s head, not giving him a single chance at escaping.
It's not his fault Feng Xin in theory has work in twenty minutes and is now probably going to be too late.
Not his fault.
(It’s totally his fault and he knows. And he feels horrible about it, really. If only-)
His heart is still beating so fast, and he’s still so fucking twitchy and shaky. He needs a cigarette. God, he just needs a cigarette so bad, his entire fucking body is yearning for one. Every single nerve inside of him is absolutely strained, his lungs hurt (ironic, isn’t it?), and he feels like just taking up the TV and smashing it against the wall.
But that’s arguably more expensive than diet coke, so the least he can do is refrain from that.
He doesn’t even have cigarettes on him right now. Even if he wanted one, he’d still have to go out and buy one. The store is a ten-minute walk, would he even survive that? Then again, will he survive longer than ten minutes?
Without noticing, Mu Qing has started pacing around the room, eyes desperately looking whether he’s left a cigarette anywhere, but there’s none; not on the table, nor the TV table, nor the windowsill behind the sofa, nor on the small cupboard in the corner. At one point, he even checks whether there’s one inside – Mu Qing has never kept cigarettes in that cupboard.
His trousers? He pats himself down, but then quickly realizes that he’s very strict about emptying his pockets; Mu Qing would never have a cigarette left in any of his pockets. He’s thrown the rest away because he was so sure he could hold out-
And he can.
Because otherwise, Feng Xin will make fun of him, and Mu Qing is not willing to put up with that humiliation. He’s also not willing to put up with Xie Lian looking all sad if they ever come across one of those ads again.
He can do this.
It’s just a craving, he tries so hard to rationalize, and those will get better, just give it time.
Time, what fucking time? How long exactly will this take? Is he going to be stuck like this for weeks or what?
It’s when there’s tears pricking at his eyes that Mu Qing actively becomes scared of the whole process of nicotine withdrawal, six days in, way too late to even be considering this. And being scared when you’re agitated beyond belief to the point you soaked your boyfriend in diet coke from head to toe?
Not a good combination.
For years in his youth, Mu Qing had panic attacks – one of the reasons he’s picked up smoking to begin with – and he feels one coming on right here and right now. His breath starts to hitch, and his heartbeat that was already loud in anger picks up its pace even more to the point he feels like he’s actually going to have a heart attack. His throat constricts, and heat travels from his toes to his head, as if telling him to just run away – and it’s then that Feng Xin comes back downstairs, in new clothes, smelling of his god-awful three-in-one that Mu Qing can’t get him to stop using no matter what he does.
“Mu Qing,” Feng Xin sighs, „seriously, I can’t deal with you when you’re like this. I can’t handle you like this. You should just smoke again, and then we’ll make an actual plan to get you to stop smoki-“
“Leave then.”
Feng Xin stares up at him, blinks a few times. Mu Qing himself blinks at him, and only then do the two words replay in his mind, his own voice sounding all distant, and much, much harsher than intended because control is completely slipping in the face of a craving combined with a panic attack.
“What?”
And that dumb fucking answer, those dumb fucking puppy eyes, Feng Xin asking him to just go back to smoking like he doesn’t even care for him and his health, and he knows it’s all stupid, but Mu Qing can’t rationalize any of this right now, so he has enough.
He has enough.
“Then just fucking leave, if you can’t handle me! No one can, and I don’t even know why the fuck you’d still try!”
“Because-“
“I don’t want to hear any of your shitty excuses, Feng Xin! It’s not like you care about me! So leave, you have work anyways, right? Since that’s more important than me, anyways!”
“What?”
Usually, when these things fall off Mu Qing’s lips, Feng Xin is nothing short of understanding, but that’s probably because he’s usually bawling his eyes out when that happens.
This time, however, his clogged-up throat doesn’t let any tears past it, and Mu Qing distantly hears just how angry he really sounds. Still; none of it makes up for the stupid face Feng Xin makes.
“What the fuck are you saying-“
“That you don’t give a single shit about me! The damned coke is proof enough! When have I ever drunk coke zero?”
“It’s the same damned thing!” Feng Xin shouts, and ah, finally he’s raising his voice to match Mu Qing’s volume. “No one else but you gives a single damn about these things!”
“Ah, see, because you can’t actually stand me, and you probably just want to boast that you have a damn boyfriend ‘cause your lonely ass still isn’t over Jian Lan!”
“What the actual fuck,” this time it comes out as a whisper, “what the actual fuck, Mu Qing?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t fuck her last week when you were over at hers-“
“What? Mu Qing, we were burying Coconut-“
“And what’s that? A name for her left fucking boob?”
“No! It’s her dead fucking axolotl, which you’d know if you just listened to me for one damned time instead of always assuming I’m cheating on you! Because you don’t fucking trust me! Because relationships are a two-way thing and I’m not sure you understand that!”
Oh, the fucking audacity this man has to say something like that when he doesn’t listen to a single word Mu Qing says. At this point, panic turns into rage smoothly, and Mu Qing grabs the nearest object he can find (the ugly fucking crying meme banana cat plushie that Feng Xin impulse ordered last year that has been sitting on the cupboard and mocking Mu Qing with its pure existence), and flings it right at Feng Xin’s face.
“That’s what I mean!” Feng Xin says, catching it, and throwing it right back at him – it hits Mu Qing right in the face. He better be lucky that he doesn’t wear glasses. “You never listen to me, it’s all just anger and self-hate with you, and even though we’ve been together for so long now, you still don’t trust me, and sometimes I just wonder whether it’s fucking worth it!”
Later, Mu Qing knows, those words will be playing on repeat in his mind, and that he’ll hate himself so much for ever making Feng Xin feel that way, but now all he knows to do is lean down to pick up the stupid cat plushie, and throw it at Feng Xin’s stupid face. This time, it hits, but he catches it in his hands when it flops off his stupid nose and into his stupid arms.
“If it’s not worth it then just fucking leave already! Just fucking go, and take that ugly fucking plushie with you!”
Feng Xin’s knuckles turn white with how hard he’s grabbing the little banana cat plushie as if squeezing it to death even harder. He punches the poor thing into his pocket, grits his teeth, and, in a very quiet and calm voice says two words that Mu Qing has feared forever he’d say one day, knew he would say one day.
“I’m leaving.”
And he does.
He grabs his work bag and walks straight out of the door, leaving Mu Qing behind, and Mu Qing doesn’t even have a damned cigarette to make up for it.
*
Mu Qing, too, had to go to work. So now he’s there, handing out coffee to customers, as if his boyfriend didn’t just break up with him. Well, okay, maybe he didn’t, he just said he’s leaving – but Mu Qing needs to face it. What else would this mean but Feng Xin breaking up with him?
It hasn’t yet kicked in. He just feels empty. Anger gave way to pure apathy, he’s running on a single coffee, not having eaten in hours, and Hua Cheng next to him might just be the worst thing about today.
And that says a lot when Feng Xin nearly broke up with him. Or has broken up with him.
Mu Qing would rather not think about it.
He also really needs a cigarette.
“Hey, Mu Qing, remember the time you nearly pissed yourself at the movie theater when you were too fucking scared to tell us that you need a toilet?” Hua Cheng, the devil in disguise, Mu Qing is pretty sure, asks.
He needs to get out of here. It’s only ten more minutes, he can do this.
At least there’s no customers anymore right now, and there probably won’t be until the end. It’s seldom that someone chooses to come into the store when it’s closing in ten minutes, in Mu Qing’s experience.
“Shut your stupid fucking mouth.”
“Adopted your boyfriend’s vocabulary, I see. No, no, listen, it was just so fucking funny watching you squirm and trying not to piss yourself once the movie was over. Genuinely, dude, no need to be so stuck up about it, or else you’ll end up pissing yourself for real one day.”
Anger climbs up despite the apathy, and it’s not at all the talk about how, last year, when they went to see a movie, Mu Qing did indeed nearly piss himself. No, it’s because he just dared to mention Feng Xin to him.
“I’ve told you to just shut your mouth. Won’t you ever do what someone tells you to? Is it just Xie Lian that you’ll do anything for?”
“Obviously,” Hua Cheng laughs, and waves his hand a little. “I’m sorry your boyfriend isn’t willing to do the same for you.”
That’s it.
Mu Qing grabs the nearest object (the staple of paper cups) and flings it right at Hua Cheng’s face.
“I know, okay? I’m fully aware I’ll never have a love as perfect as you, so stop rubbing it in my face you absolute jackass!”
Hua Cheng only manages to catch some of the cups, blinking in confusion at that outburst. Usually, and Mu Qing knows that as well as Hua Cheng, he’s able to withstand his taunting, no matter how nasty, no matter how much it actively touches his insecurities. Because if Mu Qing is insecure about anything it’s showing emotions in front of others that might lead to him getting hurt later down the lane.
But not today.
Not when he hasn’t smoked in six full days.
“Geez,” Hua Cheng huffs, “someone’s not smoked in some time, eh? It’s starting to show, chainsmoker.”
“I’ve told you-“ Mu Qing starts, ready to tell Hua Cheng once more to just shut his mouth if he can’t say anything nice, have his parents never told him, oh, sorry, he doesn’t actually have parents anymore now, does he?
However, the door opens right then and there, and Mu Qing is partly happy about it (because if he said that to Hua Cheng, he might just be killed on the spot, and partly very unhappy (because it means having to serve a customer).
“Hiiii- oh my God, you guys look like you’re at each other’s throats, I just wanted to get a strawberry matcha latte.”
Shi Qingxuan was about the last thing Mu Qing needed today.
“Ask Mu Qing about it, not me,” Hua Cheng grumbles, starting to pick up some paper cups, “he’s the one who hasn’t smoked in six days and made my boyfriend feel all guilty about it because he so obviously did it because of the anti-smoking ad.”
“Huh, you did?”
“Just- shut up. You want a strawberry matcha latte, right? Fine, you’ll get it,” Mu Qing says, but also his hands are very visibly trembling when he grabs all utensils and ingredients that he needs if it makes Shi Qingxuan shut up.
He didn’t need Hua Cheng to mention that Xie Lian feels bad that he’s trying to stop smoking. It’s not his fault. It’s Mu Qing’s fault because he started smoking in first place.
There’s barely any strawberries left, but they’ll do. One is leftover, all lonely in its bag, and it actually stays quiet the entire time he’s making the drink.
“Mu Qing,” Shi Qingxuan starts when he turns around to her, drink in hand, “seriously, you look really bad. Is it just the quitting smoking thing, or did something else happen?”
And apparently, someone being genuinely concerned about him was everything he needed.
Not.
To Mu Qing’s utter horror, tears start forming in his eyes, hot and wet and burning, and then they’re already rolling down his cheeks. He blinks a bit, staring at Shi Qingxuan, then at the strawberry matcha latte, automatically handing it to her.
“…Mu Qing?” she starts again.
“I’m allergic to strawberries,” he stammers, as if that would solve anything.
However, Hua Cheng, the best coworker in the world, grabs the last strawberry and physically shoves it into his mouth.
“Good, then I can finally get rid of you.”
“Hua Cheng!” Shi Qingxuan squeaks, immediately looking at Mu Qing, “spit it out, spit it out, do we need to call an ambulance-“
“He’s not allergic to strawberries, Qingxuan.”
“Feng Xin broke up with me.”
There’s silence in the café. Well, apart from Mu Qing chewing and swallowing the strawberry, and Shi Qingxuan taking the most dramatic sip known to man.
Hua Cheng and her both stare at him, and only then does he realize what’s happening.
He just told them what’s wrong with him. And he’s crying. In front of people. He’s going to kill himself, actually.
“Oh,” Hua Cheng says, “because not smoking makes you an intolerable little piece of shit?”
“Hua Cheng, seriously,” Shi Qingxuan scolds him, “don’t say that. Mu Qing, baby, are you okay? Do you need anything? Can we do anything for you?”
And that stupid fucking honest concern for him that she has, the stupid worry in her gaze, that gets Mu Qing.
A broken little sob spills from his lips, and he clutches at his apron to express the pure mortification he feels at that, and wipes away angrily at his eyes in a desperate attempt to make the stupid tears stop.
“I need-“ he starts, but is interrupted by another godforsaken sob, “I need a cigarette…!”
Vaguely, he’s aware that Shi Qingxuan and Hua Cheng are looking at him, but he closes his eyes so that he doesn’t have to deal with the reality of people seeing him cry right now while he’s quite literally begging for a cigarette, because there’s no way he can go through with this anymore.
“I don’t have any on me,” Shi Qingxuan mumbles, “all I have is this.”
She walks behind the counter and quietly presses a vape into his hand; apple-peach today, since she’s wearing a pastel-pink skirt and a white blouse with an apple print on it. Shi Qingxuan and her fruit-coded outfits matching her vapes, really.
Mu Qing stares a the vape, and the vape stares back at him, and Shi Qingxuan and Hua Cheng both stare at the two of them, and, in the end, Mu Qing brings it to his mouth in the desperate hope that it’ll do anything.
It doesn’t really, but the general motion of it feels grounding nonetheless.
“…I’ll check the other’s lockers for actual cigarettes for you. Just this once, I’m doing something for you, and you better remember it,” Hua Cheng hisses at him, turns on his heel, and goes for the changing room.
Mu Qing keeps desperately sucking at Shi Qingxuan’s poor vape, and she inches a little closer to pat his back a bit.
“I don’t think Feng Xin actually broke up with you, Mu Qing. You must’ve misunderstood. What happened, hmm?”
“I-“ it’s a little hard to speak when Mu Qing is trying to cure his six-days overdue nicotine craving through Shi Qingxuan’s stupid fucking vape, “I just- I got so angry with him over such stupid things and then told him to leave because he clearly doesn’t care about me anyways, and I told him to take his ugly fucking banana cat plushie- and he got really upset and said he’d leave me.”
“Did he say that word for word?” Shi Qingxuan mumbles, stroking his arm now, pulling him close until he’s awkwardly leaning against her.
Mu Qing shakes his head.
“He just said ‘I’m leaving’, but it’s so obvious what that- means…!”
“No, it’s not,” Shi Qingxuan sighs, and takes out her phone.
Mu Qing doesn’t realize what she’s doing until there’s a very familiar voice coming from it.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s me, Shi Qingxuan,” she says, and Mu Qing just stares at her in horror, and then at the phone screen, his (ex-?)boyfriend’s name plastered all over it. “Can you come to Mu Qing’s workplace? I’m here, and he isn’t well, and he misunderstood something you said really badly. Just come pick him up, alright?”
“Ah, yeah, sure, I’ll be right there.”
He doesn’t sound mad, Mu Qing realizes.
He doesn’t sound mad at all.
“Alright, cool! See you then!” Shi Qingxuan says, and Feng Xin hangs up. “See? He’s coming to get you, because he’s not even mad at you. He’s used to this, Mu Qing. Let’s go outside and wait until Hua Cheng has grabbed you a cigarette?”
“…There aren’t any,” Hua Cheng says, stepping out of the room just then, “our other two smoking co-workers don’t keep any here, apparently. Sorry.”
Hua Cheng apologized to him. And Feng Xin doesn’t sound mad despite all the things that happened between them earlier. And Shi Qingxuan pulls him and her strawberry matcha latte into a hug.
He thinks that maybe things could be fine, if only he had a cigarette.
*
When Feng Xin shows up, Mu Qing feels saved in so many ways.
First of all, he gives him the softest of smiles ever; he looks at Mu Qing like he sometimes does after sex- okay, whatever, that’s so not relevant now, but either way, he looks at him like he’s hung the stars even though he’s crying and sobbing in an alley next to their shop, by now having been gifted Shi Qingxuan’s vape, with her still patting his shoulder every once in a while.
Secondly, the first thing he says upon seeing him is ‘Qing-er, you idiot, of course I’m not breaking up with you, I know you’re just cranky’.
And, last but not least, Feng Xin reaches into his pocket, and gets out an entire package of cigarettes.
Right there at Mu Qing’s disposal.
He flings them at him, and Mu Qing catches them like he has never caught a ball during middle school sports class, no matter how much he wanted to compete with Feng Xin.
While doing that, he accidentally flings Shi Qingxuan’s vape to the side, but he can’t bring himself to care.
(She screeches out a little ‘my vape!’ at that, though.)
Like a starving man, Mu Qing opens the package, grabs a cigarette, and Shi Qingxuan is already holding out a lighter (at least she’s got that on her; probably for weed) that he grabs immediately snatching it right from her.
Next second, he’s already got the lighter and cigarette in hand, lights it up, and puts it into his mouth.
The first breath of smoke doesn’t do anything for him at all.
Neither does the second.
The third one, however? Slowly, ever so slowly, starting with the third, does the tension begin to slip from his shoulders. He probably won’t be fine for a bit longer, but this is already doing wonders. Just the taste alone – he could start crying again.
“Alright,” Shi Qingxuan says, staring at her vape, but clearly deciding to leave it there, “that’s my cue to leave. You two have talking to do, and I need to get into my hot emo neighour’s pants. Take care, you guys!”
Mu Qing nods at her as she waves, and Feng Xin just quickly thanks her. After that, it’s quiet, but Feng Xin sits down next to him.
“I mean what is said, by the way,” Feng Xin says, looking at him. “I know you’re… just on edge because you haven’t smoked in ages. You did well. It was six whole days. Alright?”
“I-“
Mu Qing is too busy smoking to be able to speak, but Feng Xin asked him a question.
At the inquiring look, he eventually loses it again; tears start slipping out of his eyes again, and, the next moment, he finds himself with one arm steadily wrapped around him, holding onto him tight and stroking his arm a little.
“I’m sorry,” eventually breaks out of him in between puffs of smoke. His head is starting to grow clearer and clearer now. Finally. God, it’s been hell. “I’m sorry I got so mad at you. I’m sorry for being jealous over Jian Lan. I didn’t know her axolotl died. Why were you at hers for it?”
“Because I knew Coconut, so she told me, and I offered to help her bury him, because I knew she was really attached to him and wouldn’t have wanted to do it alone.”
And of course Feng Xin only helped his ex because he was attached to Coconut the axolotl, and because he’s a good man who wants the best for other people. Of course. Suddenly, all the doubt Mu Qing previously had feels so stupid.
He reaches up to wipe at his own tears, but Feng Xin does it before him.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats when Feng Xin’s thumb swipes away some of his tears. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to leave.”
“I know,” Feng Xin, “I’m also really sorry. I should’ve never implied that you’re not worth it. Not in any way. Because you are. I just- it took me some time to cool down, so it was good I left for work- but I’d never planned to break up with you. Because you’re worth it to me, okay, Qing-er?”
He can’t nod, because the thought that someone might find him worth being around is still strange to him, still foreign; so someone voicing it out loud, directly telling him – he has not a single clue as to how he’s meant to react to that, so he just doesn’t.
Instead, he gives a heartbreaking little sniff and stuffs the cigarette back into his mouth.
One isn’t going to cut it, he already knows.
“It’s fine,” he eventually says, “I- even if it wasn’t worth it, I’d get it-“
“No,” Feng Xin says firmly, grabbing his free hand. His fingers are strong, and broad when they sneak between his; Mu Qing loves the way it always hurts just a tiny bit when they intertwine their fingers like this, given the difference in the size of their hands. It reminds him that what they have is real.
Even if they have the stupidest arguments known to man.
“You’re worth it. I love you. Genuinely. With or without cigarettes. If you want to stop smoking, I’ll- be here to support you, but you’ve been smoking too much for too long to just do it like this, first attempt. Relax a little. You can always try again.”
The way he’s so understanding of him, despite all the awful stuff he’s said.
“I’ll- try smoking less than before, at least. I think I can manage that, at least,” he says, squeezing Feng Xin’s hand, and getting his own squeezed back in response.
“See? That’s a good start. It’d also save us some money.”
“I know,” Mu Qing sighs. “I’ll try. I’m sorry for trying to chase you away.”
“Eh. Not the first time that happened. I’m allowed to come back though now, right? You don’t still want me to leave?”
“No. You can stay. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
Then, it goes quiet. Mu Qing finishes the cigarette at one point and decides that the second one can wait for a just a little longer, actually. He flicks it to the ground and leaves it there; it’s still wet from yesterday night, so it won’t burn anything. Instead of smoking, he then leans into Feng Xin’s shoulder, and just lets himself be embraced.
Feng Xin is right.
This wasn’t the first argument of theirs that ended in that kind of discussion, and, given Mu Qing’s character, it probably won’t be the last, either. They’re both used to it. It just hurts anyways, no matter how used Mu Qing likes to think he is to his own issues, and to Feng Xin’s responses to them.
But it’s okay. Because so far, they’ve made up every time, and it just ended in them lying in each other’s arms. Usually at home, but Mu Qing supposes that the slightly wet pavement will also do for today.
“Alright,” Feng Xin says after a few more minutes, “should we go home? If you want to, we can properly plan you stopping smoking-“
“No, I- I don’t think I’m quite ready yet. One day. Not now. I’ll try again. I swear. and I’ll stop one day. Just… give me some time?”
“Yeah. Some time is fine,” Feng Xin laughs. “Home?”
“Yeah. Let’s go home.”
Feng Xin helps him up, and he even helps him light the second cigarette that Mu Qing very much needs very, very desperately. Feng Xin struggling with the lighter for a bit is strangely endearing instead of annoying right now, and also, it looks stupidly hot. Mu Qing would love to kill him right now. And if he tries to look as hot as possibly smoking and exhaling the smoke right into Feng Xin’s face, then that’s between only the two of them.
“By the way,” Feng Xin says, the slight flush on his cheeks and his stutter not being missed by Mu Qing, “can he also come back home?”
Mu Qing’s stupid fucking boyfriend reaches into his pocket, and then pulls out the ugly fucking sad pathetic banana cat plushie.
He scowls at his stupid fucking boyfriend.
“Fine. You can also bring him back home,” he says to his stupid fucking boyfriend.
And then, Mu Qing takes his stupid fucking boyfriend back home, with only one goal in mind, namely, to have sex.
*
Mu Qing doesn’t yet know about the fact that smoking supposedly affects the way your cum tastes, so, when Feng Xin doesn’t swallow once they’re done, he doesn’t make a lot of it and just takes it as Feng Xin being weak-willed – not that Mu Qing can do it, either, but he might as well be slightly mad about it anyways.
Some time later, Mu Qing stops smoking again because of his mom, but that also doesn’t last very long.
His third attempt is motivated by disgusting cum, and sadly, that appears to be the motivation he needs.
(But he tried. And isn’t that all that really counts?)