Work Text:
yangyang is not a romanticist. no matter how much he may try, there is simply no time to be a romanticist in yangyang’s hectic schedule. after living in new york city for so long, one usually gives up on such ideologies and instead subscribes to the basic belief that: yes, i will die at the ripe age of thirty years old, working long over-extended office hours in my two thousand dollars-per-month apartment. or so, that’s what yangyang thinks. after moving to the city once he had graduated college, the young taiwanese man had made it his life goal to work as hard as he could and eventually make it big in the finance world. now, yangyang saw the faults in his dream. there was not much that waited for him at the end of the tunnel except for work, work, and more work. yangyang was starting to lose hope in living.
but, maybe there was something to look forward to after all. yangyang vaguely remembers last monday morning, sitting at his office desk as piles of paper crowd his surrounding view. despite being one of the main bankers at the firm, the office had recently undergone employment changes, resulting in the lack of a floor receptionist. as the youngest employee on the floor, yangyang was subsequently put in charge of welcoming visitors while simultaneously managing investments and pricing capital. yangyang swore if he had to greet one more starry-eyed tourist he would quit his job and move back to germany.
as the taiwanese man wrote an email to a coworker on the floor above him, the elevator in front of him rang and yangyang looked up disappointingly to see who would step out from its doors. from a clearing of stacked papers, yangyang could make out the figure of a young man who looked a bit more fashionably dressed than the regular tourist. he wore a sleek black and white suit with a matching tie that showcased a famous painting yangyang could have sworn he’d seen at a museum somewhere in cologne. shaking his head, yangyang stood up to greet the other man. there was no way he was a tourist- not with an outfit like that.
the man approached the front desk. yangyang took in the man’s features, subconsciously wondering what kind of luck he had for such a cute boy to come wandering into the office at probably the most boring hour of the day. these thoughts didn’t last long as the other spoke up in almost perfect english- something even yangyang, who had lived in nyc for a couple years, still had trouble doing.
“excuse me, do you know if sotheby’s institute of art is anywhere in this building? i swear it was in here, but they didn’t exactly give me clear directions…” the man trailed off, looking above yangyang’s head to read the company logo that was mounted to the wall. “ah- this is the jp morgan building? i must have been mistaken.”
“oh, wait-“ yangyang called out as the man turned away, heading back into the elevator. “i think i can help you. sotheby’s institute, right? i think it’s close by.” the man carefully approached the desk once more, this time with a small smile plastered across his face. looking up, yangyang was pleasantly surprised to see a small snaggletooth in the other’s smile. it was horribly cute.
pulling out a map of the city from underneath the desk, yangyang took the pen that was tucked behind his ear and pointed out the location of the building they were in.
“this is the jp morgan headquarters- where we are right now! you’re looking for sotheby’s, right? i think you’re in the right area… i have a few friends that go there.” the taiwanese man circled the location, drawing two short lines that connected to another building only four blocks away from where they were. “i think it’s there. should be on one of the upper floors too. if you need any more help finding it i can give you one of my friends’ numbers. i’m sure they would be happy to help.”
the man took in the information for a second, slowly blinking as he memorised the quick route that yangyang had drawn out for him.
“if you could do so i’d be so thankful,” he smiled, leaning across the desk to move closer to the taiwanese man. “here, you can put their numbers in my phone.” the man shuffled through his pockets and retrieved his phone, handing it to yangyang. “and you might as well put your number in too while you’re at it.” the man chuckled softly at his own words, taking a step back as he covered his own smile with one of his hands.
yangyang grabbed the phone mindlessly, already inputting the names and numbers of his friends when he had finally processed the words the other man had said.
“o-oh, i- of course!” yangyang sputtered, almost losing grip of the phone. for a second, he didn’t know how to act. snapping out of his own daze, yangyang quickly entered his contact information into the phone. at the end of his name he added a sheep emoji. perfect.
“well, thank you…” the man squinted at the phone. “yangyang. i hope to see you around soon.” the man slipped into mandarin, letting the familiar tones and sounds flow off his tongue as yangyang was mildly surprised to hear it once again. the man turned around to leave and hit the elevator button. yangyang, still in shock (considering his love life was nonexistent) from before, took a while to say something. before the man stepped into the elevator, yangyang called out for him.
“wait! i never got your name-” the man was in the elevator now and the doors were slowly closing. the man laughed.
“renjun. huang renjun.” and with those five words, the elevator closed and the office was silent once again.
♡
yangyang is not a romanticist. but, as time goes on and he finds himself texting renjun every day in between lunch breaks and meetings with clients, yangyang starts to think that maybe- maybe there is some sliver of a soul still left in him. the sensation of seeing a new text pop up on his lockscreen is indescribable. when yangyang catches the screen light up with a bright green icon out of the corner of his eye, there’s no mistaking the expression that creeps across his face as he grabs towards his phone to reply. as yangyang is in the middle of finding the right heart emoji to reply with, a coworker (with an odd nickname that has something to do with numbers) walks by and comments on how lovesick he looks. “you’re like a little schoolboy,” his coworker laughs, throwing another packed folder of papers onto his desk. “it’s cute.”
when the coworker turns his back around, yangyang sticks two middle fingers up at him. he deserves it.
somehow, it’s no surprise when yangyang finally musters up the courage to ask renjun out on a date. it’s been about a week of non-stop talking, with topics ranging from what dog breed is the cutest to how the government’s public housing system leads to a cycle of imprisonment for working class minorities. when yangyang finally sends the solidifying text, he heads into his bathroom and screams into the shower for a few minutes. the next time he looks at his phone minutes later (and unable to contain his excitement), he screams once more. renjun had agreed.
yangyang decides to take renjun to an art museum. though yangyang preferred to think he had a comprehensive understanding of the different tourist attractions in the city, there weren’t many museums he knew about. he simply did not have the time to visit them in his spare time, nor had the interest to even step foot into one. most of his earlier visits had been as a child living in germany, forced to visit by his overbearing parents who wanted him to be as in touch with the arts as much as he was in touch with mathematics and sciences.
after a couple of quick google searches and review sites, yangyang finally decides to take renjun to the metropolitan museum of art. it’s a little farther than he’d like to go, but there’s nothing the metro can’t solve. as much as he hates the hot, sticky feeling of waiting for the train underneath the busy city streets, there’s not many other options (unless he wants to fork out a heavy price tag for an uber). yangyang isn’t even quite sure why he decides on going to a museum, but he does anyways. it’s somewhere not too quiet but not too loud- a perfect place where the two can talk in public solitude.
the week slowly passes and yangyang gets impatient waiting for each day to pass so he can cross off the days on his calendar, counting down how long till his date with renjun is. on the friday afternoon the date is set for, yangyang sprints out of the office with his briefcase slung over his shoulder. their meeting time at the met is dangerously close to his closing hours, so yangyang decides there’s no time to stop at his apartment and change into something more casual. running around on the sidewalk for a few minutes, the taiwanese man finally catches the 4 line train right as it’s about to leave. breathing a sigh of relief, yangyang relishes in the feeling of cold, stale subway air-conditioning for the next twelve minutes.
when the train stops at the station closest to the intersection of 5th avenue and 85th street, yangyang exits into the bustling streets where numerous art vendors line the sidewalk and food trucks advertise their “famous” new york pretzels. though it is the afternoon, the sun beats down on the city like it’s the middle of summer. tourists walk around with gaping mouths, marveling at the tall buildings and striking architecture.
yangyang walks up the steps of the museum, nervously wringing his hands together. even in the security check line, he finds himself impatiently tapping his foot on the ground, attracting the concerned eyes of the security guards and the people behind him. when he is cleared to enter the building, he swiftly apologises and feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. there’s a moment where yangyang feels the need to check his phone once more, but remembers that renjun had texted him moments earlier to meet him near the statue in front of the egyptian wing. frankly, yangyang has no idea where the Egyptian wing is, but spots the man leaning against the statue’s fencing through the crowd almost too easily.
“renjun!” yangyang calls out, feeling his heart skip a beat when the other looks up from his phone and walk towards him. “sorry for being late. fucking metro…” he curses under his breath. renjun lightly chuckles at the latter comment and smiles.
“don’t worry, i uber-ed here almost thirty minutes ago and still ended up arriving only just now.” there’s a moment of silence where the two stare at each other while the rest of the museum buzzes with excitement, and renjun breaks the silence by gesturing towards the entrance. “i have a season pass and bought you a ticket on the way. let’s go!”
yangyang lets renjun guide him. it’s a bit awkward as it is only the second time they have seen each other since their first meeting, but it is quickly filled up by the commentary that flows from renjun’s lips and fills yangyang’s ears.
somehow, they find themselves in the bottom level of the museum where dutch old masters and contemporary landscapes and still-lifes are housed. the two walk around slowly, taking in each detail of each painting. renjun sucks in a deep breath when they approach a painting of a woman with a pitcher, his eyes shining even in the dim lighting.
“wow, i didn’t even know this vermeer was here the last time i came. how did i miss it?” renjun breathlessly says, eyes only fixated on the masterpiece in front of him. when yangyang looks to his side, he sees how immersed renjun is. his lips are curled into a small smile and he looks gorgeous, yangyang decides.
“this painting… it’s timeless. even though it was painted in the golden age, it’s still such an important and pivotal piece that really gives insight into the time period. you can instantly tell it apart from other old masters as a vermeer- the lighting of the room is so specific to his own home, which you can tell is painted in when you compare it to his other masterpieces. there’s this feeling of solitude and momentary peace, something no other dutch artist of the time could achieve. though it’s a basic pose and model, there’s so much beauty to it. the dark, satin blue of the woman’s dress to the tinted window she touches- it’s all so perfect. vermeer’s artwork can make one’s blood pressure drop and their feet stop in their tracks. you’re really stuck in that moment. i love that so, so much.”
when renjun is finished talking, he sucks in a deep breath.
“ah, did i bore you? i didn’t mean to go off like that-“ he mutters sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head and coughing out an uncomfortable chuckle.
“no- i mean, that was really cool. super cool.” yangyang gives an awkward thumbs up and the two make eye contact. there’s a moment of silence where the two just cannot make up their minds of how to make the conversation flow again but when a couple more seconds pass, they finally break down in laughter.
“god, this is so bad,” renjun laughs to himself, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “i guess my nerd side really showed there, huh? i can’t help it. i’m an art history major, after all.”
yangyang nods. “it’s cool though, i meant it. i honestly wish i had the mental capacity to know so much about even one specific art piece but… when i look at this all i really see is a lady with a jug of water. art people are so…” yangyang struggles to find the right word but eventually settles for chinese instead. “kù? shuài? i don’t even know what i’m going for here.” renjun scoffs and smiles at the latter comment. “but you get what i’m saying. it’s really impressive.” there’s a slight pause between the sentences and yangyang blurts out whatever is on his mind. in hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have. “also you looked really hot explaining everything.”
there’s a good twenty seconds of silence that follow once again. renjun takes the time to process what yangyang has said as the older man makes a beeline to the nearest exit. when renjun finally snaps out of it, he grabs onto yangyang’s dress shirt sleeve and pulls him back.
“you’re so embarrassing, you know that right?” renjun grins, pulling him even closer so that they’re practically forehead to forehead.
“s-shut up…” yangyang murmurs, furrowing his brows at the guard who currently eyes them. “whatever. i said the truth and that’s that.”
renjun finds that this is an acceptable answer and lightly smacks yangyang on the head. the other feigns hurt and makes a pained noise that resembles a mix between an ouch and an aiya.
“oh my god, you really are a loser. come on, let’s go to the sculpture garden before we eventually get trapped down here.”
yangyang lets renjun grab his hand tightly and lead him back towards where they came from and up the stairs. it’s in this moment that yangyang realises- maybe he is a romanticist after all.