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There is a man who rides the subway with Wei Ying at the same time. Wei Ying falls in love with him every day.
—
Wei Ying thinks the subway lady’s voice is funny. She says Arriving at but she says it so quickly it sounds like orelliat.
Orelliat. Orelliat. Orelliat.
—
Wei Ying always sits on the red seats by the door. Which door? He forgets sometimes. Do the doors open on the left or right? Which left? Which right? Does it depend on the direction of the subway? Forwards or backwards? Across from him there’s always a poster for Casper mattress ads. Sleep is the answer, the poster says. Below the words is a puzzle. It’s different every day. Today it’s three lightbulbs heading towards an exit sign.
A few seats away, on the opposite side, there is a man. He rides the subway with Wei Ying at the same time. Wei Ying falls in love with him every day. He’s handsome. Beautiful hair. Lovely jawline. He always dresses so nicely. Today it’s nice slacks and a button up. A black wool coat on top. There are no salt stains on his pants or boots like there are on Wei Ying’s. Wei Ying thinks the stranger must be a professor or something. He’s always reading. The book in his hands today is titled Flight of the Birch Tree. A funny title. Trees can’t fly.
Wei Ying would probably look like a mess if he stood next to the handsome stranger. The only thing he has going for him is that his ass looks great in these scrubs.
The subway lady’s robotic voice comes on.
Arriving at—
—
Today’s puzzle is unnecessarily complicated.
A donut. (dip - p + st) + (turn - n + b).
The handsome stranger is wearing a scarf today. This isn’t unusual. There’s an extreme cold weather warning. But the scarf is patterned with bunnies. The man is too absorbed in his book and so Wei Ying stares at the scarf with glee. Somehow it fits with the rest of the man’s professional outfit but it’s still a scarf with bunnies! So cute! This stranger, who always looks so aloof and cold, likes rabbits. Wei Ying can’t not go talk to him. It’s the perfect ice breaker. Haha. Cold weather warning. Ice breaker.
He gets up and pulls his backpack over one shoulder.
Arriving at—
—
Today’s Casper ad is the following: a sound symbol asl + a sheep - sh.
Wei Ying’s handsome stranger isn’t wearing his bunny scarf—a fact Wei Ying mourns. He is wearing the same boots as Wei Ying though. Black leather. Wei Ying wonders if they’re the same size. Today, he doesn’t wait and stare. He gets up, grabs his backpack and walks down the aisle. He collapses down beside the handsome man, leaving one seat between them. The man doesn’t look up. He keeps reading, unbothered. Today’s book is Flight of the Evergreen.
Unfazed by the lack of reaction, Wei Ying spreads his leg, inching his left foot closer and closer to the other man’s. Still no reaction.
Wei Ying bumps their boots together. “We have the same boots.” Look at me.
For a second Wei Ying thinks the man still won’t react, but then he looks up and—oh he’s even more gorgeous this close. His lips are set in a flat line and his face is hard. Wei Ying wonders what his smile would look like.
He gives Wei Ying an unimpressed look and then glances down at the floor at their side by side feet. “Indeed.”
Indeed. Indeed. Who says that? One word, that’s all Wei Ying gets before the man returns to his book. Not one to give up, Wei Ying says, “Evergreen trees can’t fly.”
The man sighs and puts his book down on his lap, hand caught between the pages to hold his place. He doesn’t turn to look at Wei Ying again, staring ahead, but he does reply. “Your statement makes it sound as if you believe other types of trees can fly.”
Dumbfounded, Wei Ying stares at the man’s side profile for a moment before he bursts into laughter. “Gege, who knew you could make jokes! Can I call you that, gege?”
“My name is Lan Zhan.”
“Okay, gege,” Wei Ying says just to annoy him. He’s not sure why he wants to rile up this man so badly. “My name is—”
Arriving at—
—
“You did not get a chance to tell me your name,” Lan Zhan says.
Today, Wei Ying did not leave an empty seat between them, so they’re side by side, separated by negligible millimeters. “Maybe you should call me gege,” Wei Ying teases.
Lan Zhan turns the page of his book. “No,” he replies.
“Boring,” Wei Ying huffs. “My name is—”
“Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying straightens from his sprawl, turning his torso to look at Lan Zhan. “Wait, how do you know that?”
“Your jacket is unzipped,” says Lan Zhan, like that makes any sense—
“Oh, my nametag,” Wei Ying says with a laugh, hand going up to touch said nametag on his scrub top. “For a second, I thought you were a creepy stalker or something—hold on! Why’d you ask if you already knew? You’re messing with me.” He pouts. So Lan Zhan can be funny and can tease. Maybe he’s not so boring and rigid.
“Mn.”
Mn. What a guy. Wei Ying likes him. Across from them is a Casper ad. Today it’s a speedometer and a man sleeping. Above the puzzle, there’s text saying Can’t solve it? Sleep on it.
“They should really just bring a real life mattress as an advertisement,” Wei Ying mutters. “I could really go for a nap right now.”
“Then nap,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying grins. “Will you let me use your shoulder as a pillow?”
Arriving at—
—
The puzzle today is a team of athletes inside a dream bubble, but Wei Ying pays it no mind.
“The bunny scarf is back!” Wei Ying exclaims as he sits beside Lan Zhan. He tosses his backpack at the empty seat on his other side and grabs one end of Lan Zhan’s scarf. It’s a dark grey with white bunnies on it. He strokes his thumb over the fabric. Very soft. “Are bunnies your favourite animal?”
“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. The tips of his ears are red.
“That’s so cute,” Wei Ying cries. He’s decided. Lan Zhan is the cutest person in the world.
“Do you have a favourite animal?”
“Penguins,” Wei Ying answers immediately. “They’re silly. And gay.”
Lan Zhan only blinks.
“Like me,” Wei Ying adds.
Lan Zhan turns his head and Wei Ying is caught in his gaze. “You are silly.”
Wei Ying’s mouth drops open, a little offended until he sees the smallest upwards tilt of Lan Zhan’s mouth. “You’re smiling!”
Lan Zhan turns back to his book. Wei Ying pouts. “Not fair, I only saw it for a second. Lan Zhan, I’ll be silly if it’ll make you smile again.”
“No need.”
Wei Ying crosses his arms and slumps in his seat, legs stretching out. “Gege, can you say more than two words to me? Or do I still need to unlock that level? Are we still awkward subway buddies? How many points do I need to unlock the friendship level?”
“It has—” Lan Zhan starts to say before giving a minute shake of his head.
Wei Ying wants to pinch his red ears. And kiss them. Instead he bends over to get a look at the cover of Lan Zhan’s book. Flight of the Willow Tree. With his elbow placed on his thigh, he rests his face in the palm of his hand, staring curiously at the book’s cover. Lan Zhan’s fingers are nice, he thinks. He can so easily lean forward just a little and kiss his knuckles.
“What’s this one about?” he asks instead.
Arriving at—
—
“This one is stupid,” Wei Ying announces. The Casper puzzle is an eye, with a line underneath it, and the word slept underneath that. “It’s like when kids in high school would write sin/cos on their arms and say they have a tan.”
“Sounds like something you would have done,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying snorts. “I was more cultured, more of a puns guy. Don’t drink and derive.” He can’t help the quiet laugh as he says it.
“We’re on a subway.”
“Don’t be bohr-ing.”
“That is a chemistry pun.”
Wei Ying sighs. “I know, I couldn’t think of a math one. Are you allergic to nuts?”
Lan Zhan shakes his head. Wei Ying pulls a granola bar from his backpack. He has the entire pack of six in there. The sound of the wrapper is almost drowned out by the hum of the subway. “These ads are a little creepy, don’t you think?” he says as he eats. “That horse looks so unsettling. Nightmare. Do they really think that’s good marketing? Are they saying their mattresses will give me nightmares? That’s the message that’s coming across to me. Was there a focus group for these ads?” He rolls up the granola bar wrapper and tucks it into a ziploc bag with six other identical wrappers.
“You have chocolate on your face.”
“Hm? Where?”
Lan Zhan doesn’t reply. He just raises his hand to Wei Ying’s face. Wei Ying swallows at the first touch of Lan Zhan’s thumb against the corner of his mouth. Almost unconsciously, he licks his lips, his tongue just barely brushing over Lan Zhan’s finger. They both startle, and Lan Zhan pulls his hand away. He takes out one of those little packs of tissues and cleans the chocolate off his thumb.
Wei Ying swallows again, simultaneously feeling like his mouth is dry and like there’s too much spit in it. It feels too warm suddenly—but maybe that’s just the way Lan Zhan was looking at him. With heat. Desire. Like he wanted to kiss Wei Ying.
They sit awkwardly, both of them staring ahead. Wei Ying thinks it’s funny that subways have windows. What is there to see? Just a tube traveling through a tunnel. You can’t even escape when it’s moving.
“Wei Ying—”
Arriving at—
—
“Lan Zhan.”
“Mn.”
Wei Ying doesn’t answer, too absorbed into the mattress ad. It’s not a new one this time. An eye over a line over the word slept. For a second, Wei Ying swears the eye blinks. He shivers, unsettled and looks at Lan Zhan. Today they’re really sitting beside each other, pressed shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. Wei Ying’s sitting on the end of Lan Zhan’s jacket. It means Lan Zhan can’t get up. Wei Ying likes that. If he gets up, he’ll have to pull up Wei Ying with him. Not that Lan Zhan ever gets up.
“Wei Ying.”
“Hm?” Wei Ying hums absentmindedly. He’s feeling—distracted isn’t the right word for it.
“You said my name.”
Wei Ying says it again. He likes the way his mouth moves to say it. Lan Zhan’s hair is so perfectly combed all the time. Wei Ying wants to brush his fingers through it and mess it up. Actually, what he really wants is to unbutton Lan Zhan’s shirt. The buttons are done all the way up. Lan Zhan probably thinks showing off a little collarbone is scandalous. Wei Ying hopes he’s scandalized by the v-neck on Wei Ying’s scrubs.
“Lan Zhan, I never asked. Are you a professor?”
Lan Zhan shakes his head. “A PhD student.”
“Like I thought, a man of intelligence.”
Lan Zhan gives him a flat look. “You’re a medical student, are you not?”
Wei Ying gives him his most dazzling smile. “One sleepy med student at your service.”
“Where do you—”
Arriving at—
—
These mattress ads are really, really, really starting to get on Wei Ying’s nerves. He feels irritable. Like he hasn’t had enough sleep. Which is normal. He’s in medical school, he never feels like he’s had enough sleep. But this is different.
A grim reaper. A tire. + d.
Before he has a chance to process what he’s doing, Wei Ying gets up and moves to the seats on the other side.
“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan calls after him.
Wei Ying kneels on the blue seats and starts tearing at the Casper poster. The paper makes a satisfying ripping noise. Aren’t these supposed to be covered with plastic? Wei Ying tears and tears at the paper until Lan Zhan wraps his arms around him. Wei Ying’s hands fall in defeat, a sea of pink torn paper around him on the blue fabric of the seats.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says again. His voice is unbearably soft. “It’s alright.”
Is it? Wei Ying wants to scream. Instead he says, quietly, “Lan Zhan, will you kiss me?”
“Turn around,” Lan Zhan replies.
Wei Ying turns. Lan Zhan never gets up from his seat. But he’s up now. His book is on the floor like he threw it in his hurry to get to Wei Ying. Flight of the Oak Tree, the title says. He thinks, Lan Zhan, are you a PhD student in dendrology? Have you discovered a tree that can fly?
Lan Zhan cups his face and kisses him. His lips are warm. He’s real. Wei Ying kisses him back. He puts his hands in Lan Zhan’s hair like he wanted. It’s soft. Wei Ying tugs at the strands and Lan Zhan pulls back to give him a little pissy glare.
“Don’t pull.”
“Why not? You liked it, you even moaned a little,” Wei Ying teases.
Lan Zhan’s ears flush with anger. “It’s inappropriate to do this in a public space.”
Wei Ying thinks he’ll return to his seat and leave Wei Ying among the wreckage of a nefarious sleep advertisement, but he grabs Wei Ying’s hand and guides them back to their seats.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying sighs once they’re seated. Lan Zhan hasn’t let go of his hand. A piece of the torn poster has reached all the way to their seats, and Wei Ying pushes it away with the toe of his boot. “We never—”
Arriving at—
—
A clock, the minute and hour hand pointing at 12. Sn + (tack - t).
Wei Ying laughs. “A midnight snack. The only snack I need is you, gege.”
“Don’t flirt if you do not mean it.”
Wei Ying huffs. “Who says I don’t mean it? You think I go around kissing everyone?”
Lan Zhan makes a noise that’s not in Wei Ying’s vocabulary. Wei Ying cups his face. “Ah, you’re looking a little sleepy. Maybe—”
Arriving at—
—
A bed. A clock. A store. - e + y.
“Let me tell you a bedtime story,” Lan Zhan murmurs. “I walk through a forest. The trees here are tall and old. The sunlight filters through them. There is a word for it. Komorebi. I hear the sounds of birds. There is chirping. Bill drumming. The sound of hollow wood. Birds are fortunate, you must know.”
“Why?” Wei Ying whispers.
“They are allowed a freedom that trees aren’t. In the face of danger, whimsy, wanderlust, they can fly. To new trees. New land. But a tree—a tree is rooted in place. The only thing a tree can do is spread its seeds. Rely on the wind to blow them away. There is no guarantee the seeds will make it far, or that they will take root and grow. A tree can only hope, but a bird can fly.”
Arriving at—
—
“Lan Zhan.”
“Mn.”
“We never get off this subway, do we?”
“No.”
Arriving at—
—
Sleep is the answer, the Casper advertisement says.
“Maybe it is,” Wei Ying tells Lan Zhan. They’re both so tired. “Maybe we just need to sleep. Both of us.”
“We can try,” Lan Zhan says. He looks so tired.
Wei Ying laughs. “It would be silly, wouldn’t it? If the answer has been right in front of us the whole time. I even ripped one of the posters.”
“The posters have not always been in good taste,” Lan Zhan soothes him. He closes the book on his lap, the cover facing up.
“Flight of the Birds,” Wei Ying reads. He smiles. “Finally, something that can actually fly.”
“Less talking, more sleeping,” Lan Zhan orders. He wraps an arm around Wei Ying and pulls him close.
Wei Ying lets his head rest against Lan Zhan’s shoulder and tangles their fingers together.
“See you tomorrow, Lan Zhan.”
“See you tomorrow, Wei Ying.”
Arriving at Queen’s Park. Queen’s Park station. Doors will open on the left.