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Shorter Wong is a great many things, but discreet is not one of them. Perhaps his neon purple hair is just a manifestation off the brightness and enthusiasm of his general person, or maybe it was just the most quiet thing about him. These were all musings that Yut Lung did not pretend to have the answers to, but he did actually want to know the answer to why Shorter insisted upon staring at him during their shared Chinese History class.
Not that Yut Lung really has an issue with being stared at by their university’s student body – he knew for a fact that he was one of the most beautiful people that their drab and unattractive campus had to offer – but the attention that Shorter often afforded him was something that he didn’t quite understand. He did want to understand, though. If pressed about it, Yut Lung would be relatively unashamed to admit that he would love to have the opportunity to pick apart Shorter Wong’s brain just to see what was going on under all of that bright purple hair.
As it stood, however, Yut Lung had no real way of knowing just why Shorter spent a whole hour and twenty-five minutes admiring the planes of his perfectly contoured and moisturized face and he had even less of an idea how to find that out for himself. It was rather infuriating and the pressure of constantly thinking about Shorter’s stupid face and even stupider biceps was going to give Yut Lung a stress-related breakout and that was something Yut Lung would readily kill the man for. He’d have it coming.
“Mister Lee, would you like to continue to give your notes an angst-filled glare or would you like to join us in the Qing Dynasty sometime in the remaining forty minutes of our class today?” Yut Lung levels the same glare at his professor – a man he is absolutely certain is as old as the Chinese civilization – before offering him a saccharine smile and apologizing for his distraction. Luckily, his charm kills the apparent issue, but a smothered snicker draws Yut Lung’s attention from the board to the left side of the classroom and right to Shorter and his unfortunate hair.
The shit-eating grin curling Shorter’s lips in response to Yut Lung’s glare is disgustingly attractive and it’s almost second nature for Yut Lung to bring his perfectly manicured middle finger to his right eye to pull the lower lid down and stick out his tongue in an admittedly ugly mocking expression. It’s far from being the most attractive face that Yut Lung had ever made, but it is was no uglier than the loud laugh that burst up from somewhere deep in Shorter’s chest and cut their professor off mid-sentence, Yut Lung is quick to school his expression back into one of unaffected benevolence as his highlighter moved carefully over the page in his notes to the tune of one very scandalized “Mister Wong !” from their professor.
Justice, as always, is sweet and swift, so Yut Lung hides his smile behind the dark curtain of his hair to mind his business and keep his eyes off of Shorter for the rest of the class.
“Eiji.” Yut Lung doesn’t even try to be polite as he descends into the seat across from Eiji’s in one of the coveted booths in front of their campus’ busy-as-fuck Starbucks. The only reason they catch themselves frequenting the cursed ass cafe is because Eiji’s tall, blond, and unfortunate boyfriend works there as a part-time barista and often slides them free drinks. That and all of the ambient noise drowned out all private conversations. Yut Lung likes the illusion of privacy and Eiji likes ignoring Yut Lung’s woes to oogle his boyfriend. It was a fairly mutually beneficial arrangement for them. “What do you know about Shorter Wong? I need to know everything – for science.”
Eiji stares curiously at Yut Lung over his caramel frappuccino, big brown eyes blinking slowly. “It sounds like you want a full presentation with slide animations and a full works cited page. Why do you even want to know? It’s not like he’s a shining example of your type.”
All of this was undeniably true and Yut Lung bites down on his straw in mild frustration. Why did Eiji have to be so fucking difficult? Why couldn’t he just be a nice and supportive friend that provides Yut Lung with all of the information that he desires in a concise manner? That’s what Yut Lung did for him , after all. And free of charge, at that! “He’s in my Chinese History class and I want to know about him and his people. That’s all, no ulterior motive to be found here.”
Eiji raises a brow at him but says nothing as he keeps sipping his damned frappuccino. Fuck him, Yut Lung is going to find a new best friend. Maybe he’ll finally start acknowledging sing as worth his time.
“...He keeps staring at me during class and I might find him somewhat attractive. When he takes those abhorrent sunglasses off. There. Are you happy?”
“Yes, in fact. Shorter and Ash are actually best friends and so I actually know him pretty well~” Eiji speaks with the carefree air of someone who didn’t know the importance of the information that he held. Yut Lung would envy him if he didn’t desperately need that information. “I know that he’s an artist, does a lot of street art and is by all intents and purposes a fine arts major? He’s always scribbling and drawing in his sketchbook. Maybe he’s drawing you! That’s rather romantic, isn’t it?” Of course Eiji would find that romantic; he and Ash had a collaborative poetry and photography book for their six month anniversary.
Yut Lung can’t stand his creative friends.
He told Eiji as much, but Eiji didn’t seem too terribly offended by it. “If he’s drawing me without my consent, he’s more of a stalker than a romantic. Is he even any good?” It’s an innocent enough question, but Yut Lung just really wants to know if his likeness was being recorded in an appropriate manner. He isn’t interested! He swears! But Eiji smiles a smile that Yut Lung finds vaguely threatening even as he finishes off the last of his little frappuccino with a pleasant hum. “He is very good. You’ve almost definitely seen his work around campus.”
Has he?
*
Yut Lung has to agree with Eiji for once in his life, though he has no intention of telling Eiji that any time soon. While Shorter Wong is indisputably one of the general banes of Yut Lung’s existence, he was very artistically talented. Despite being a street artist by trade, the university had actually commissioned Shorter to complete a series of murals around the campus. So, as it turned out, Yut Lung is very familiar with the way Shorter worked.
Any secret drawings of Yut Lung that Shorter may or may not be drawing in his illusive sketchbook were at the very least incredibly beautiful. This is troubling because now Yut Lung is even more curious and desperately wants to see them with no way to bring up their existence. Yut Lung was not going to set himself up for failure by asking about drawings that he wasn’t even sure actually existed. Yut Lung Lee has high standards and he will not lower them for knowledge.
These standards are the exact reason Yut Lung does not seek Shorter out himself but turns to Sing with the intent of asking his friend to do it for him. As evidenced by the way Sing dressed and behaved, Sing has nothing akin to Yut Lung’s standards and most importantly, Sing has an admiration of Shorter that transcended most anything. It was like taking candy from a baby.
“You want me to ask to see Shorter’s sketchbook?” Sing asks as he looks up from Yut Lung, taking in the way he bundles up in his short teddy bear coat and a fluffier scarf. “Do you want to borrow a sweater or something? You look like you’re gonna freeze all of your Gucci off.”
“I wear Prada , stay correct. Anyway, your clothes are ugly and I’m warm enough. Yes, I want you to ask to see Shorter’s sketchbook. For science,” he adds after a moment, hugging his coat tighter around himself and stomping in place to keep his feet from freezing in his little boots. It’s way too cold in New York to try to be cute to the degree in which Yut Lung did, but he is willing to get hypothermia for the aesthetic. “Don’t you want to see how Shorter’s...unbridled genius works itself out on paper?”
For a moment, he fears that he’s oversold his case to Sing but he can practically see the gears turning under his Akira -inspired haircut. He smiles short and bright when Sing’s shoulders relax in agreement. Perfect. “So, you’ll do it.”
Sing sighs as if he’s terribly put out by this, but there’s a smile on his lips as he hugs his own coat tighter around himself as another brutal winter wind struck them. “I’ll do it. But I want to know why you want me to do it after. Deal?”
Yut Lung considers this with a drop of pride – Sing’s learned how to bargain! He did that! – and inclines his head in agreement to the terms. “Deal. Will you walk with me to matchaful? I’m freezing and I can do for some good green tea.”
He grins as Sing heaves another sigh and nods quickly. “Sure, but we’re taking the bike there. It’s faster and we don’t have to freeze our toes off on the way.” Yut Lung hates that damn bike, but he can’t really argue that it’s an efficient way to travel while in the cold. He’ll take anything over freezing his cute little ass off while shuffling through the crowded New York Streets for his preferred tea.”
*
Yut Lung is not surprised when Shorter corners him after class one day, but he is a little put out about it. He likes when things are done on his own terms and Shorter taking the initiative is thoroughly taking things out of Yut Lung’s control.
“So, I’ve heard that you’ve been asking around about me,” his voice is wonderful and it simply isn’t fair to Yut Lung; he may have standards, but he is also incredibly simple and likes his men to have deep voices.
But weak knees were not enough to break Yut Lung’s confidence in hiding his emotions. “Have you? I was just wondering why you would dye your hair such and abhorrent color. What hair dresser worth their salt would even agree to such a color?”
Shorter laughs and shrugs his shoulders, looking down at Yut Lung over his sunglasses. From their newfound proximity Yut Lung took notice of piercings he hadn’t seen before – nose, eyebrow, tongue – and blinks up at Shorter to try and clear his mind. He isn’t all that attractive, really, but that look? Over the sunglasses? It could distract a priest and Yut Lung wasn’t nearly that chaste. “Ash dyed it.”
That...didn’t surprise Yut Lung in the least, but he tilts his head all the same. “Interesting. Is there something you need, Shorter Wong? I have an appointment with the Starbucks line and you are delaying me.” He doesn’t need to get in line, he’s made his online order already, but Yut Lung needs an out before he goes belly up for the giant idiot pressing him against the wall. “So if you’ll excuse me..” He makes to step away and is genuinely surprised when Shorter steps out of his way.
His surprise is swiftly replaced with something close to annoyance, but not quite there. “Can I help you?”
“Let me walk you to Starbucks.”
If Shorter were an uglier, less charming man, Yut Lung would not have hesitated to move around him and make his way to Starbucks more or less unscathed. But alas, Shorter Wong is beautiful and Yut Lung was incredibly weak. “Fine, but you’re gonna have to show me your sketchbook as a consequence for your invading my private Starbucks time.”
There was no such thing as ‘private Starbucks time’ but Yut Lung would be damned if he didn’t make Shorter work for his attention. Shorter, to his credit, takes the bait with an easy going grin and a quick incline of his head. “Sure,” he says, like it’s absolutely nothing. Yut Lung has been under the impression that an artist’s notebook is as sacred as their diary and asking to see it is something like prying into the deepest and darkest depths of their heart. But here Shorter is, offering it up on a silver platter for Yut Lung’s attention.
“Fine then. Starbucks and then sketchbook. It’s a deal.” Shorter has the audacity to laugh at him and Yut Lung sticks his tongue out as he leads the way out of the building. He doesn’t have the energy to think about just how attractive Shorter’s tongue piercing is. He needs coffee first and then maybe he’ll consider thinking about it.
Either Yut Lung is vastly miscalculating how charming and persuasive he is as a person or Shorter really just wants him to see his sketches. It’s an idea that he plays around with as they walk across the quad to the Starbucks. It’s surprisingly empty for the limited space between classes, but they did spend an extended amount of time messing around while Shorter had him cornered, so Yut Lung doesn’t really mind.
Ash isn’t behind the counter, which is a blessing and a half because Yut Lung does not need a witness to this illicit meeting, but Yut Lung also misses the comfort that comes with someone he knows can intervene on his behalf if something gets out of hand.
Though, to be fair, the only thing that he expects to get out of hand is the way he will inevitably start to ogle each and every one of Shorter’s piercings. He can admit that much to himself with the softest of sighs as he orders his venti caramel brulee latte with almond milk, extra whip, and topping. Yut Lung waits for it at the end of the bar and turns his head slightly to watch Shorter settle in a booth and pull out his sketchbook.
Shorter’s expression is peaceful as he turns the pages in his sketchbook and Yut Lung can catch the briefest pass of color as he passes through it. He can’t see anything else from his vantage point and he so desperately wants to. Shorter looks up just as Yut Lung takes his drink from the barista and just smiles at him. It’s not even a particularly attractive smile, but it’s just enough to make Yut Lung’s heart stop for a beat or two.
He knows then that it doesn’t matter what’s inside of the sketchbook because Shorter Wong could draw Yut Lung as the barest stick figure and Yut Lung would love it.
*
Each drawing of Yut Lung in Shorter’s sketchbook is gentle and ethereal. They’re all primarily black and white since Shorter does the bulk of the work while he’s in class looking over at Yut Lung over the heads of their boring classmates, but there are spots of color that he adds whenever he’s in a studio session and doesn’t particularly like the assignment that day.
Yut Lung looks as beautiful in them as he does in his day to day life, that Shorter had made certain of, and there’s one that he desperately wants to immortalize forever on a mural. Paint it larger than life where everyone can see and know that Yut Lung is as beautiful as any faerie or god they would read about in a literature course on campus.
The drawing in question isn’t done in class like its siblings. It’s a piece from Shorter’s imagination and an assignment in class, but it looks incredibly true to life. Yut Lung in a pretty oversized sweater that Shorter had seen in the window of an Urban Outfitters, his hair free from the braids and ponytails that he’d typically worn it in and flowing free around him. His expression is simultaneously at ease and pompous and mirrored by the airpods resting delicately in his ears. Heavy gold earrings rest in his ears, each a maze with a strong jade dragon working its way through it and a blue tassel dangling from the end. His eyeliner is, as it always is, sharp enough to slice through Shorter’s heart with no remorse.
Yut Lung’s figure is backlit by a traditional Chinese motifs – the lung dragons that Shorter so heavily associates with him, pearl and jade orbs, the Cantonese characters for strength and beauty, and giant peony blooms. They’re all done in Shorter’s distinct graffiti style and he would cut off an arm to be able to put it up somewhere.
He wonders if Yut Lung would let him. He wonders if he would have to ask him first or if it would be better to proceed without permission and ask for forgiveness later.
What Shorter wonders most of all, though, is if Yut Lung would agree to date him before or after seeing the work as it is intended to be viewed.
*
They don’t go on real dates. Yut Lung doesn’t even consider their various matcha dates dates because they are exactly the same thing he does with Sing, just with Shorter. But they are spending more time together. Yut Lung is sitting with a cup of matcha held delicately in his hands, his long hair waving slightly in the first real breeze of spring. His teddy bear coat is living in a closet now, but Shorter still hasn’t abandoned that hideous hoodie - puffy vest combination that he’s been wearing since the middle of the fall semester. It can be forgiven, it kind of looks cute. Shorter is kind of cute, since Yut Lung is feeling particularly generous.
Shorter is, as he almost always is now, drawing Yut Lung. The page he’s working on is covered in small, overlapping sketches of Yut Lung’s face, each one rendered delicately in narrow charcoal pencil. The one he’s working with is almost the size of his thumb, it’s been so thoroughly worked by Shorter, and Yut Lung is considering walking the few blocks up to McNally Jackson to buy him some more while he works.
But that would mean admitting that he cares about Shorter and his craft and Yut Lung is certainly not ready to do that just yet. He sips on his iced matcha latte and crosses his legs, smiling slightly as Shorter jerks a little in surprise. It’s rare to catch him by surprise and Yut Lung relishes in it every chance that he gets.
“Isn’t it hard? Drawing with something that small?” Yut Lung asks, reaching over to gently pluck the small pencil from Shorter’s hand. He holds it between his acrylics and eyes it much like a cat eyeing its prey. Maybe he does want to take Shorter to McNally Jackson. Maybe he deserves it.
Shorter shrugs and takes it back carefully to avoid getting charcoal on Yut Lung’s fresh set and further convincing Yut Lung that Shorter Wong, unlike other men he might be interested in dating, might actually have rights. “It’s not bad. Why? You wanna buy me some new pencils?”
“Yes.” They stare at each other for a few moments before Yut Lung breaks eye contact to take another sip of his latte. Shorter is making him too honest and he’s not entirely sure how he feels about all of that. It makes him warm and shit. It’s definitely new. “McNally Jackson is only a few blocks up. We can go. And there’s a Cha Cha Matcha up there, so I can get a refill.”
The drink in his hands is from MatchaBar, but Yut Lung doesn’t discriminate between matcha places when they can all provide him with the drinks he needs.
Shorter pushes his sunglasses up on his nose and hits Yut Lung with another one of his incredibly devastating grins. Yut Lung is not entirely sure how he copes with this, but he doesn’t wholly mind not being able to cope. “Sure, we can go.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
They’re lingering in the back of Good For The Study where all of the pencils are when Shorter asks Yut Lung a question he surprisingly has an answer for.
“Will you be my date to the Spring Gallery opening?” Shorter’s voice is soft and surprisingly shy as he compares two different pencils against each other, several others held securely in Yut Lung’s hand as positives for the trip.
Yut Lung smiles around his straw and lifts his eyes from the jars of pencils to look Shorter in the eye. His sunglasses have slid down his nose again and he looks a little ridiculous with his nose piercing poking out at a slight angle, but his eyes are so incredibly earnest. There is not a part of Yut Lung that even wants to say ‘no’ to him, and so he doesn’t.
“Of course,” he answers, biting down on the straw to fight his obviously growing smile. He gives up when Shorter’s brilliant one catches his attention. They’re grinning like idiots in the back of a stationary store of all places, but Yut Lung can’t even bring himself to be mad. It feels warm, natural, and perfect.
*
Shorter Wong turns out to be as loud and obnoxious as his appearance dictates, but Yut Lung turns out not to hate it as much as anticipated. He rather...likes it, in fact. He likes everything that comes with being Shorter’s boyfriend – and they are boyfriends, something Yut Lung isn’t sure he really expected to happen.
The colors that decorate Shorter’s person are just as present in his art and it's his art that makes Yut Lung realize something that he might have been aware of all along.
The sketch that Shorter was so desperate to bring to life rests in its full glory as the crowning glory of the Student Spring Gallery and Yut Lung’s breath is taken right out of his chest as he looks at it. He’s never seen anything like it even if he stares at his reflection in every reflective surface he passes in the street. There’s something else there, he realizes.
He thinks it might be love, but he’s too shy to think about it more than a second. He does know one thing, though.
He loves the passion that colors Shorter’s work and that love just might touch on the man behind the work as well.
“So,” Shorter asks a few drinks into the opening, his hand hovering over the small of Yut Lung’s back. He never touches without asking and it makes the smallest of smiles curl on Yut Lung’s lips. The mohawked punk has so much respect that it can’t be anything more than endearing. “What do you think of it?”
Yut Lung knows he’s nervous and leans against him as he sips his spiked apple cider, his eyes fixed on the painting as people whisper about him and it all around them. “I love it.”