#title from ''greens'' by be steadwell which is SUCH a good song

[cerulienne]

The Best Greens In My Garden [ao3]

Lan Zhan's fancy new apartment comes with a decidedly un-fancy neighbor.

That neighbor has a decidedly confusing habit.

Well, confusing to Lan Zhan, anyway.

updates thursdays & sundays on ao3!

chapter 1: i’m here for you

If Lan Zhan were to try and name all of the places he feels truly comfortable, he would find the list to be not very long at all. His childhood home, for one; his office for another. A park with a koi pond near his uncle’s house. The six apartments he’s occupied in four years? They do not make the cut.

Staring at a small school of neon tetras in the lobby of his new building, he hopes that this one will finally break that unlucky streak.

The complex boasts a compost program, energy-efficient appliances, and solar panels. Its insulation and exterior siding are both made from recycled material. A committee of property managers, all of them residents of the building, take the place of a landlord. Near the entrance stands the no-fertilizer, no-filter fishtank that currently occupies most of Lan Zhan’s field of view.

“‘Mutual benefit,’” Lan Huan reads from a little plaque beside the tank. Lan Zhan watches the tetras. “‘A symbiotic relationship between habitat and resident.’ Cute.”

The metaphor is a little heavy-handed for Lan Zhan’s taste, but he can’t argue that they’re not cute. Big-eyed and metallic, they dart through the weeds, pausing to glint red and blue among the green. Footsteps approach from his left; he blinks and straightens up. The tall form of his brother stands beside him, hands tucked neatly behind his back.

“Is that the last one?” Lan Huan asks. He tilts his head to indicate the large cardboard box at Lan Zhan’s feet.

“Yes.” Lan Zhan turns away from the tank to pick up the box, lifting it easily despite its bulk. “Thank you for your help today.”

“I wish I could stay to help you unpack,” Lan Huan sighs.

“You have a long drive back. Opening boxes with me would not be worth the delay,” Lan Zhan says. “I will manage alone.”

Lan Huan half-laughs, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Trust me, I’d much rather be sorting your cutlery than braving the highway at this hour. But before I go…”

A smaller box appears on top of the one Lan Zhan is carrying.

“What —”

“A housewarming gift.” Lan Huan says with a grin. “Open it later, when you’re tired of unpacking.”

Lan Zhan purses his lips in a tiny smile. “I will. Thank you again.”

He doesn’t see any other tenants on the elevator ride up, and his hallway is empty of any life. He breathes a sigh of relief. Moving apartments is always an exercise in overstimulation. Too many objects and faces to keep track of. Too many trips up and down various staircases. Too many people to introduce oneself to. It’s all… a lot, even for someone as level-headed (and, lately, experienced in the subject) as he.

At least, with experience, he has the first twenty-four hours down solid. Everything he’ll need for his first night in the new place is in clearly-marked boxes, many of which have already been opened and organized. All he needs to do is order some food for delivery, make his bed, and go to sleep.

He balances the last box — the one he knows contains the electric tea kettle and the alarm clock — neatly on one arm to pull out his keys.

He’s fumbling with the lock when the door across the hall opens. A loud laugh rings through the hallway. Lan Zhan jerks at the noise and his brother’s gift slides off the box, heading for the sustainably-grown bamboo floor. He watches it fall in slow-motion, wondering if the gift is fragile, before he sees a hand shoot out to catch it just before it hits the wood.

The hand swings out of sight again. Lan Zhan shifts the box to his side so he can get a better look at the person it’s attached to.

He’s taller than Lan Zhan, just a little, lean but muscled, with a deep and freckled tan. His dark hair is wild, barely contained by a red bandana and a pair of sunglasses. He’s wearing a triumphant smile. His other hand is holding a cell phone to his ear; Lan Zhan can just barely hear a tinny voice coming through the speaker. On the tips of the stranger’s outstretched fingers — one of those fingers has a tattoo, a black sprig of leaves — Lan Huan’s gift is balanced like a trophy.

“I can hold this while you unlock your door,” he offers, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Lan Zhan looks him up and down, taking in the rest of the stranger’s — of his new neighbor’s — uh, — anyway, he’s dirty. His jeans have holes in the knees, and not fashionable I-bought-them-like-this holes; they’re worn through and threadbare and dusty. His boots are half-laced and covered in dried mud. The rolled-up sleeves of his flannel — unbuttoned and falling off of one shoulder — are in a similar state, as is the black tank top underneath.

He tilts his head a little to catch Lan Zhan’s eye, and that’s when Lan Zhan realizes he’s been staring. His ears and cheeks burn.

“Just a moment,” he says, and whirls around to face the door again. He thinks he unlocks it faster than he’s ever unlocked a door before, and thanks the gods that it doesn’t stick.

Behind him, the stranger speaks quietly into his phone. “Hold on, a-Jie, I’m helping someone with something. Don’t hang up, I’ll just be a second.”

Lan Zhan sets the box down just inside the door. His neighbor is still smiling there, head tilted like a curious puppy. He holds the gift box out, still balanced on the tips of his fingers.

Lan Zhan takes it, a little too quickly maybe, and his neighbor drops his hand.

“Thank you,” he says. His neighbor catches his eye again and smiles even wider.

“No problem,” he says. He snaps his fingers, makes a finger-guns gesture, winks, and Lan Zhan is so caught up in coordination of it all that he almost misses it when he adds —

“I’m here for you, babe!”

He disappears down the hallway with a wave. Lan Zhan, frozen in place, hears his conversation continue in a bright, laughing voice.

“Babe?” Lan Zhan mumbles.