Fix You

Chapter 2

He felt sick.
       
        Not physically. No, this wasn't car sickness or a cold. It wasn't even a stomach flu or food poisoning–as miraculous as it was. Living off of random takeout and cold leftovers, some of which he was convinced we're on the verge of expiring. No, it wasn't anything like that. He was dizzy, disoriented, tired… wrung out like an old dirty dish towel. It was that kind of sickness.

        The type that cannot be fixed by any over the counter medication. The type that cannot be drowned by alcohol. The type that had no relief that settled deep into the bones, creeping into the blood, and burned low in the pit of his stomach. He lowered the car window just a little bit, to no avail. It wasn't enough.

        His breakfast was… good. If he could actually taste anything, that is. It settled well enough–even better when he spotted the coffee in the cupholder. Lan Xichen was surprisingly considerate. Then again, he should have suspected as much. Not like he'd actually admit to such a thing, though. The world would truly end the day I thanked a Lan, he sighed while running his thumb across the lid of the cup.

        How did it come to this?

        One minute he was at home, ready to drink himself into a coma. Next minute, he was in the car with Lan-fucking-Xichen, on the way to a rage room of all places. It didn't make sense, but there he was. It must've been some kind of joke. Whoever said fate didn't have a sense of humor never experienced something this… bizarre. He was still floating on the feeling of disbelief… dissociated fully from the connotations of such a request. I should have said no. Did he really have a choice? There's always a choice. Like how he absolutely chose for his home to catch flame? That's different.

        “Breathe.” The one word snapped him back into his body, drawing his focus to the other man in the car. Jiang Cheng waited for another response. Anything. Yet, just like a summer breeze, he fell silent again as though he had never spoken at all. Perhaps to focus on his driving. The Lans always had such strange rules.

        So instead of trying to make small talk–something he truly despised, he stared out the window. Occasionally tracing the landscape with his eyes and occasionally glancing at the clouds, without truly processing what he was seeing. That cloud looks like jiejie. His blood ran cold.

        “Breathe.” Lan Xichen repeated, as though he knew something was wrong. It must have been obvious. No, it couldn't be. “Please?” He added, but kept his eyes on the road.

        It was too much. His stomach twisted into a knot and he could faintly feel his hands and feet trembling as the cold sweat ran down his spine. It was too much. The ringing cacophony in his head only compounded the other symptoms.

        Lan Xichen pulled over.

        Not wasting a second, Jiang Cheng kicked open the door, expelling the contents of his stomach onto the grass alongside the road. This is too much, he thought as he continued to dry heave–his back now pressed against the car.

        “Perhaps we should postpone the rage room for today.” Lan Xichen suggested. “You are unwell. Let's go somewhere else for now.” He proceeded to help Jiang Cheng into the car.

        Jiang Cheng didn't have the energy to resist, even though he desperately wanted to. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch either him or the car–anything to shake this horrible feeling. Anything that didn't involve him crying or Lan Xichen comforting him by rubbing small circles on his back. He choked back a sob. Anything but that, and yet, he knew it was too late.

        His pride left him when his breakfast did. His dignity left him when he drank himself to death for 3 days straight. His self respect left him when his family did. Now all he had was his life, something he no longer wanted to hang onto. It was too cruel. He had to live while his family was in shambles. There was no telling if Jiang Yanli would ever wake up again. If she did, she might not be the same. She might not be well or healthy. She may not survive long.