To My Pretender [BL]

[8] - Denial

Wu Jie started sweating, and his palms became damp. He couldn't rule out the possibility of the scandal spreading here.

The pain from his previous agonies ruptured, and the torture he went through in the past, the ones that he desired to forget about, took control over him. He stood still and gazed long and intently into the distance.

He ran away from Shanghai to the US, and now he ran away from the US back to Shanghai. But even in Shanghai, it was still suffocating.

"Why are you so quiet? Did I say something wrong?" Shen Xiaoyun asked, tapping Wu Jie's forehead slightly with his knuckles.

"Your face looks very pale."

Despite his overwhelming thoughts, Wu Jie physically displayed no such feely emotions. He looked calm.

"...No, it's not that... but I am just not sure what you mean. Is there a reason you are calling me that?"

Shen Xiaoyun raised his brows slightly before returning to his usual expression. He rubbed his chin before one corner of his lips raised.

"Well, aren't you one? A doctor, that is. You see, I need your help."

As the chances that caused Shen Xiaoyun to say that sentence by chance consumed Wu Jie's consciousness, their noses were lightly stung by a foreign scent.

"...I'm not—"

Without warning, the usual, fresh breeze was dyed with the colour of smoke, but Shen Xiaoyun still kept his gaze on him.

Sniffing the air, Wu Jie perched his head to the side and gaped.

"Ah!" Wu Jie flinched. "Behind—!"

*BEEP BEEP*

The fire alarm went off.

Shen Xiaoyun darted his head back and his ink-coloured eyes widened in panic.

"Oh, crap. My sausages."

Soon, his entire pan was on fire and all they could see was bright red filling their pupils. Just when this strange situation of reuniting with an old classmate that hated his guts but also helped him with his anxiety attack couldn't get any worse, they were now going to be burnt alive.

Shen Xiaoyun went to the stove and reached to grab the pan, but Wu Jie immediately grabbed his wrist.

He closed the gas emitting from the stove and asked, "Where's the lid?"

"The lid? Um, over there," Shen Xiaoyun stammered.

Wu Jie went to the counter and grabbed the lid, hurriedly rushing back to cover it over the saucepan. The smoke stung their nose, something sweet yet nauseating, rich yet so putrid as if a piece of leather was being tanned over a scorching flame.

While he covered his mouth and nose from the smoke, Wu Jie pulled Shen Xiaoyun away from the stove, who was stunned in his spot.

Wu Jie went around the living room of the apartment and opened the windows available, allowing the clean air to enter and the smoke to leave.

He walked back to Shen Xiaoyun, lifted his forearm, and examined for any burns.

"Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself? You shouldn't have just reached for it like that," Wu Jie worried.

It was clear that he had no cooking or fire management skills at all, but Shen Xiaoyun was too prideful to admit this fault.

Shen Xiaoyun stared at Wu Jie, as though his dark, hazel eyes had drifted off into a long sleep bereft of dreams.

When Wu Jie held onto Shen Xiaoyun's arm, he noticed his knuckles were covered with bandages, and the faint fresh injuries near his fingers caught his eyes. From his memory, it wasn't like this last night. Wu Jie knew immediately how those injuries could've formed judging by the placement of the bandages.

Did he fight someone?

Don't tell me... he didn't punch me in his sleep, did he?

Wu Jie's face paled and shook his head at this absurd thought. Even if he did get punched, his body wasn't aching in that sort of way, anyway.

Shen Xiaoyun, "?"

His eyes were tired, and he was exhausted in every limb, but he seemed suddenly to breathe more easily when he met Shen Xiaoyun's intent gaze.

Yet, there was still a lingering fear.

"Shen Xiaoyun...?" Wu Jie waved his hand in front of Shen Xiaoyun's eyes, pondering why he had blanked out of nowhere.

As if Shen Xiaoyun snapped back to reality, he blinked in confusion and pulled his arm back from his grasp.

"Yes, I'm fine," he said before muttering, "That's weird. Why did it light on fire?"

Wu Jie peered at him in complete disbelief.

"Why are you looking at me like that? What happened to it's the thought that counts?"

"Sorry," Wu Jie said apathetically, which provoked Shen Xiaoyun even more.

Wu Jie glanced at the counter and saw a cooking video on Shen Xiaoyun's phone. Was he learning how to cook something? It was so strange. He was so used to Shen Xiaoyun ignoring him and hating him, but why did it seem like something had changed?

In the end, Shen Xiaoyun ignored his sarcastic apology. He threw the spatula and pan into the sink while Wu Jie thought about how to bring up last night's incident.

He knew there was something more important to say instead of poking at Shen Xiaoyun's pride. Although he was curious about how Shen Xiaoyun knew about his identity, all that trouble he caused definitely needed an apology first.

"About last night... Thank you..."

Shen Xiaoyun, who was washing the pan, lifted his head slightly up as if recalling the events of last night.

"Oh, right, last night? I'm surprised you remember puking all over my clothes and shoes. Do you remember when I dragged you into my car, and you nearly puked in there, too?"

Wu Jie's face paled even more, as if he just saw his great ancestors rise from their graves. When he heard those words, another vivid memory splashed into his mind.

The memory of him gripping Shen Xiaoyun's shirt, puking all over his clothes and shoes, rung his head.

Splashes of crimson shades coursed throughout Wu Jie's cheeks, and he was too stunned that all he could do was blurt out nonsensical sentences. Just when he thought that the anxiety attack was embarrassing already, he couldn't believe he vomited all over Shen Xiaoyun's clothes.

"I'm so sorry. I drank too much, and I wasn't thinking right. Wait, um... I'll pay for the dry-cleaning and... shoe cleaning. And also, any other damages I have done."

"It's fine," Shen Xiaoyun said. "I don't need it."

Only a rush of guilt and panic consumed Wu Jie's mind. Attempting to figure out other ways to apologise to Shen Xiaoyun, he didn't notice that the man's gaze remained on him while he tried to think of a compensation.

Soon, Shen Xiaoyun turned back around to face the sink.

"Why did you drink so much when you clearly couldn't even handle it? What if you fell on the street and hurt your hands?"

When Wu Jie heard 'hurt your hands', his lips tightened.

"Yet, I guess that wouldn't matter since you aren't a surgeon."

A short silence loomed over their heads. Shen Xiaoyun continued scrubbing the plates and flushing the remains of the food out with water. Wu Jie, who stood in front of the counter, fixed his eyes on that broad back. He couldn't tell what this man was thinking of at all.