Work Text:
“Brother! Will you play games with me today?” Zhan Zi Qian asked her brother. She already knew the answer, but that wasn’t going to stop her from asking.
“Not today, Zi Xi.” Zheng Xi let out a controlled sigh and got up from the couch before it could absorb him, patted her head, and went to his room. The click of his door punctuated the silence that filled the living room around Zi Qian. It was a silence she was unwillingly growing accustomed to since her brother started high school, so she booted up her game and let the home screen battle music occupy her mind.
Sometimes Zheng Xi would watch her make runs through whatever game she picked up that day, but most of the time he locked himself away in his room. Some days he’d come home late, drenched in sweat or scuffed with dirt and grass. She assumed he was out with the redhead on those nights because he was the only person Zheng Xi would play with these days. She didn’t like Redhead’s vulgar language or the fact he seemed to understand something about her brother that she didn’t, but he gave her brother comfort somehow, and for that Zi Qian was grateful. It also helped that Zheng Xi often returned on those nights with tupperware filled with meals like pan fried chicken or beef stew that put their mother’s cooking to shame. “Mo made too much food again,” her brother would say with an inexplicable sadness unwarranted in the face of a perfect dinner.
Zheng Xi never talked to his sister about what troubled him. He pretended; complaining of high school homework, forgetting his umbrella, or her non-compliant uniform. Things of no consequence. Things any brother would say. But something more had been bothering him for a while, and Zi Qian wanted to be there for him like he always was for her. Normally, she’d just keep prying until he gave in, but he never gave her the chance, always disappearing just before their conversations could get serious.
She tried to clear her mind by grinding a few levels in the game her brother bought her a month ago. He used to buy her games they could play together, but when he stopped accepting her challenges, she started requesting solo RPGs in the hopes that he’d at least get caught up in the story and stay longer with her in the living room. At one point, she thought her plan had imploded when he’d stormed out of the house after an argument over the violence rating of a game about climbing the ranks of a fictional mafia. She’d argued that it was no less violent than the MMOs they used to play together, and he’d wordlessly left, shutting the door with too much force behind him. But he returned two hours later, sheepishly knocking on her door to offer her the newest Monster Hunter game as an apology.
“If you want violence, at least kill the monsters instead of playing one,” he’d said almost under his breath. She succeeded in goading him into watching her play the new game and made a mental note to get rid of the other one. He's always preferred to be the hero.
The character on screen was powered up enough to execute the max combo move when she heard the familiar click of her brother's bedroom door. Without hesitation, she paused the game.
"Brother! I'm about to take down-"
"Sorry, Mo's waiting. We're going to play basketball for a while. I'll be back late, but don't think you can stay up all night playing games just because Mom’s out of town. There’s school tomorrow, and it's almost time for exams." He scolded preemptively. There wasn't much bite to it, though, and he neglected to tell her to actually study.
"Yeah, sure," she offered before unpausing the game and letting herself get wrapped up in the last hits to victory.
The curtains faded from amber to lilac until reflections of shadows from the television danced across them with a fluorescent glow, and Zheng Xi still wasn’t home. Zi Qian didn’t notice the time until the loading screen flashed black across the tv, striking out most of the light in the room. Getting up to turn on the overhead light, she stretched to circulate the blood back into her legs. She thought guiltily about the gaming chair her brother bought her for her birthday this year. He’d insisted if she was going to play for hours that she shouldn’t “fuck up her posture” as he had so delicately put it. He sounded too much like the redhead when he said that, hiding kind sentiments beneath harsh words. She didn’t like the way Zheng Xi sounded when he cursed so casually when scolding her. It wasn’t so much the vulgarity of the words but the way he sounded so different than the brother that used to openly shower her with affection, like he was afraid to love his little sister. Their mother told her later that it was probably just puberty and that she’d understand for herself in a year or two, but Zi Qian wasn’t convinced. She had thanked her brother for the chair anyway, knowing she wasn’t going to use it as much as she should because that would mean playing games in her room and reducing the already rare chances of seeing Xi.
Redirecting her thoughts, she decided to take a break from the game and make sure she wasn’t missing any assignments for the night. She knew she wasn’t. She was a good student with somewhat of a reputation to live up to and didn't want to add to her brother's troubles. But she checked anyway for good measure before assembling leftovers into tomorrow's lunches for herself and Zheng Xi. He probably won't eat otherwise. The least she could do was make it as easy as possible for him to have a proper meal while their mother was away. She couldn’t just rely on the Redhead to keep her brother fed. Responsibilities met, she went back to slaying monsters.
It was nearly 11, but she was still home alone, and the coffee she'd bought from the vending machine on her way back from school left her buzzing and itching to take down the next boss–because she was on a roll tonight. Definitely not because being home alone so late made the looming trees outside play tricks with her eyes. She’d just been staring at the screen too long. But, really, where is Zheng Xi?
Around 1am–he really isn’t sure–Zheng Xi slowly clicks open the lock to his front door. Nights like this, he’s grateful his mother started taking trips to the countryside to visit her parents now that her own children were older. That way, she wouldn’t have to face the disappointment of her son stumbling home at this hour, barely able to take off his shoes without knocking over the umbrella stand by the door before catching it with a self-satisfied smirk. I’m getting better at this, at least , he thought.
He and Mo didn’t drink often, but some nights one of them would sneak out, stashing water bottles filled with concoctions blended from open bottles their mothers hid in forgotten cabinets. The first time it happened was a couple weeks after high school started. Mo’s mom wanted to barbeque to celebrate a raise she got at work and insisted Guan Shan go shopping for the weekend. Out of habit–Mo would later grumble–he’d bought too much food for a barbeque for just him and his mother and didn’t want anything to go to waste, so Zheng Xi got a text saying he’d better come get food or else. Despite Mo’s prior grumbling, Zheng Xi noticed his plate never went empty while he was at the table. After dinner and two glasses of wine, Mo’s mother had dismissed herself to bed, telling the boys to finish any leftovers and insisting Zheng Xi stay the night. Mo got up to box the remaining meat while Xi gathered the dishes to wash. They worked in near silence until Mo coughed before speaking.
“Uh, so, you’re good at school right?” Zheng Xi wasn’t expecting Mo to speak first, and the silence that followed clearly made Mo nervous as he continued, “You always finished your homework first while–while everyone else was fucking around.” Mo fidgeted with the dirty serving dish in his hand. Zheng Xi took another moment to process before taking the dish from Mo’s hands.
“You were usually feeding us, not fucking around,” Xi huffed out a laugh, “But yeah, I guess I’m good at school.” He let his gaze linger on Mo, waiting for the question he now expected.
“I, uh, do you think you could help me sometimes? I’m still not good at studying, but…” Mo trailed off and Zheng Xi waited. “But I’m trying to get better.” They both let the statement linger for a moment, knowing its significance.
“Yeah, I can do that.” Both boys let out a breath as the tension left the room. Neither was one to put himself out there, so this was a significant step for two people missing their outspoken friends. They finished cleaning the last few dishes before Mo’s hand landed on the cork for the half-empty bottle of wine. He clicked his tongue.
“Tsk, she’s never gonna to finish it. I’ll have to do braised beef next week,” he mumbled to himself while grabbing the bottle. Zheng Xi was drying a water glass as Mo turned around, and they made eye contact, only breaking it for a second to glance between the glass and still uncorked wine bottle in Mo’s hand. A tense moment passed in silence. Before he knew what he was doing, Zheng Xi was tilting his glass toward Mo who leaned forward and poured until the glass was filled half way. He emptied the rest of the botte into the second glass Xi had unconsciously grabbed with his other hand. “It is Friday…and she did say you could stay…”
“I’ll text my mom.”
That night they found themselves talking more than they ever had, confirming secrets the other had tried not to assume and wallowing in mutual empathy until tears threatened to breach. They dismissed themselves to bed before that could happen–they still weren’t that familiar. But after that time, sometimes–on nights like this–they sought that same comfort and, with practice, learned to blame any tears on the alcohol.
This time was different because it was a school night, and they’d never drank when they had to go to class in the morning. Mo was too adamant about actually showing up and doing well this year that he never wanted to risk oversleeping from a hangover. But today Zheng Xi’s homeroom teacher announced that the talent show would be in a month, so anyone who wanted to participate should start thinking about their act. The classroom’s atmosphere instantly changed as the other students began to whisper to each other about who would register and wondering what their seniors would showcase. Zheng Xi didn’t hear any of that, though. He could only focus on the voice in his head repeating, One day, in the future, we’ll get together and perform! He didn't hear anything else until the lunch bell rang.
When he met with Mo for lunch, it was obvious they’d gotten the same announcement. The two ate in a heavy silence, unable to ignore the weight of their losses when the reminders were so apparent. Neither spoke until the end of the lunch period when Zheng Xi asked, “Do you want to play basketball later? After work? My Mom’s out of town again, so I can be late.”
“Sure. Meet you at 7?” Mo replied with a nod before getting up to head back inside.
Zhen Xi hadn’t planned on drinking while they played, but the mystery bottle he knew was in his mother’s cabinet was too tempting to leave behind when he walked out the door. Apparently Mo had the same impulse and convinced his boss to let him have what was left of a six-pack that shattered to the ground when a shoplifter tried to shove it into his backpack. After half-heartedly throwing the ball around for a few minutes, both boys sat down, reached for their bags, and laughed for the first time that day upon seeing that they were on the same page. When they hit the court again, their movements were less coordinated but aggressive, shoving and sweating away the weight of unkept promises. Once their breaths were ragged, they sprawled in the grass to pass bottles back and forth until the last drops spilled into the grass with the salt of their sweat and tears and memories.
Even through his stupor, Zheng Xi notices the light and noises coming from the living room. He curses to himself and tries to look as sober as possible before rounding the corner only to find his sister slumped against the couch, face smushed against the couch cushions.
“Zi Xi,” he coaxes. She only pushes her face further into the couch, so he reaches out to shake her gently. “Zi Xi, wake up. You can’t sleep like that.”
“Br-Brother?” She groans as she rubs her eyes.
“C’mon, Zi, let’s get you to bed,” he says fondly while smoothing a stray hair from her face.
“Brother…” Zi Qian hesitates. The sleep is gone from her voice, but she still speaks softy. “Brother, what’s wrong?” She sits up closer to him, and Zheng Xi is suddenly aware of the lingering smell of cigarettes on his jacket. He takes a careful step back, knowing she’d accuse him of smoking and unwilling to throw Mo Guan Shan under the bus for a lapse in composure.
“Nothing’s wrong. Except that I told you not to stay up late,” he scolds and her expression changes from concern to irritation.
“I was just asleep, Brother,” she pauses. “And you… what time is it?! Did you just get home?” Her eyes are critical as she takes him in. He feels ashamed that she’s seeing him like this, and he tries to turn from her gaze.
“I…” he starts, but his mind is hazy and he can’t think of an excuse fast enough.
“Where were you all night?” She reaches for his sleeve so he will turn back around.
“With Mo. Playing basketball,” He supplies. It wasn’t a lie, so he said it with confidence.
“This late?” her words trail off and glances at the clock on the wall before facing him again. He wants her to stop looking at him like a confused puppy, but he can’t bring himself to speak. “Brother… I know something’s wrong. I just want to help…” she finally pushes.
“I said nothing’s wrong,” and even he doesn’t believe the words that nearly slur out of him. He turns again to leave, but is stopped when Zi Qian rises and pulls him into an aggressive hug. He almost loses his balance, but manages to keep them both upright without actually returning the embrace.
“Please stop lying to me, Brother.” She nearly whispers into his back. He knows she must smell the smoke and booze on him now, but she doesn’t say anything and doesn’t let go. After the day he’s had, it feels like she’s squeezing a fresh bruise, and he wants to shake her off, but the desperate grip she has on him tells him he isn’t going to get away this time.
“Zi Xi…” he tries. He feels the way her breathing changes to listen to him. “It’s just..” he tries again. She waits. “It’s not something I want to talk about,” he says and hopes that’s enough to convince her. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then looks at him with that same expression.
“Why not?”
“Because it hurts too much.”
Her grip on him tightens, and he feels his body begin to relax. It’s more comforting than he expected, but it’s been so long since someone has clung to him like this that he forgot the comfort it could bring. The act forces him to remember the feeling of another body hanging off his back and wonder how his sister can be so light. Her hold is absolute, but the weight is all wrong. He remembers bracing for impact and and tangling limbs while dodging grabby hands, how he could always hear the embrace before it happened, his name a warning cry from a hundred feet away. And suddenly the weight of his sister is too much to hold.
“Brother?” Zi Qian releases her hold to reach for his face and pass her thumb across his cheek. He feels his skin cool under her touch, and he realizes she’s wiping away tears. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He has to close his eyes to keep from breaking at her expression.
“No, Zi Xi, there really isn’t.” He says with a finality he doesn’t want to feel. “C’mon, it’s late. Let’s get to bed.” She doesn’t move at first, still unconvinced.
“Does…does Red–I mean Mo–does he know?”
“Yes, he does,” he says, “but only because he’s… he’s dealing with something similar.” he doesn’t want to share Mo’s business, but he also doesn’t want his sister to feel jealous. His head isn’t buzzing as pleasantly as it was on his walk home, and he doesn’t think he can deal with this conversation much longer. The room is still slightly skewed, and he's already dreading homeroom, but he can't walk away from Zi Qian right now.
“So you guys help each other?” He knows her questions are innocent, but Zheng Xi can’t help the dread that sits in the pit of his stomach. He wants to reassure his sister, but he’s so tired from the day and he still can’t bring himself to outright lie.
“Sort of. It’s not really a problem with a solution, Zi Xi. We just hang out and try not to think about it too much. But, yeah, it helps to know I’m not… alone.” If she notices the way his voice hitches on the last word, she doesn’t react.
“Okay,” she says, but he can tell she isn’t finished, so he waits. “… you’re not alone.” She pauses again. “I won’t force you anymore, but I hope you can talk about it someday. I’ll always be here.” She gives his arm one last squeeze before stepping away.
“Thanks, Zi,” he attempts a smile but knows it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Not today, but maybe one day.”