Chapter Text
Hwei is furious. How dare this man take his idea? How dare he present it to the class? How dare the professor compliment him? How does no one else see this blatant rip-off?
Hwei grips his pencil so tightly; it snaps in half, and the woman next to him stares at him, afronted. This takes Hwei out of his simmering anger, as he sheepishly picks up the pieces under his desk. But it comes back tenfold as that idea thief walks towards the chair ahead of him, sitting down. Hwei glares daggers at the back of his head. Be more inspired next time, Hwei curses in his mind, as a tuft of hair falls onto his face as he hikes his shoulder up and tucks his neck in. He is vexed with the offending art that stays displayed in front of him, while the professor calls up the next presenter.
The art in question is an oil painting of Mount Targon, noctum flowers line the cliff side as it overlooks a quaint village. The sky is washed over by a mixture of deep blues, dotted by blindingly white stars as the moon lights the ground. A temple breeches the side, not overtaking the composition, but merely teasing its sight. Begrudingly, Hwei has to admit the artwork is phenomenal, exquisite, even. And the more rational side of him has to give it to the student, he had stated it was of his hometown. But, really? Hwei questions, it is practically the same painting as his own! Granted, a different area entirely, but how many people could be from a mountainside village that has a temple? Hwei’s painting of Koyehn is framed the same way, set in the same dark sky, with the same bright stars and mystifying flowers. And the same media! Oil paints? Seriously! Who uses oils other than him?! Anxious, his palms sweat as he hopes his professor doesn’t mark him down for the similarity with the two paintings. He hopes his masterful brush strokes give him the edge in getting that A. Hwei is already plotting the downfall of the man whose name was… Hwei struggles to recall. Ophelia? Ophelios? Aphelios? Whatever, it does not matter. Hwei huffs to himself. He is getting an A on this, and he will be writing a long-winded email to his professor if that student gets a better grade than him.
Hwei comforts himself with the knowledge that he had presented first. Plus, that student barely said a word! Every word was strained and mumbled, Hwei could barely make a single thing out if he wasn’t so intently listening, trying to find criticisms that quelled the anxiety inside of him. If that student can’t even present properly, then surely, Hwei easily wins this one. Right?
His anger turns from the student towards the professor. Create artwork of your hometown? What a plain and uninspired prompt. Maybe if the professor learns how to curate creativity within his students then Hwei wouldn’t be in this position right now.
“Woah, woah, woah,” Ezreal tries to calm Hwei from his rage-induced spiel. They are sitting outside in the quad, eating their lunches at a bench. “You’re going to be fine, Hwei, plus it’s the beginning of the semester, that is like a cookie-cutter icebreaker assignment in any Art 101 class. You’re just being graded on participation. That guy doesn’t even know who you are.”
“But I am not! I have studied that rubric over a hundred times. I know what I am being graded on, and creativity is 20% of the grade! How shall I get full marks if someone copies me?” Hwei sputters angrily, bits of his sandwich flies out of mouth. Ezreal grimaces as some of it lands on him.
“Chill out, Hwei, you will be fine, and stop being so angry, you’re spitting on me!” Ezreal gives his last exasperated plea to pacify his friend. Hwei whispers a meek apology, as he passes Ezreal one of his napkins.
Hwei sighs as he finishes his sandwich. The crust of the white bread remains in his tupperware as he wipes his fingers clean of the peanut butter. All that’s left in Hwei’s lunch are carrot sticks and ranch. Ezreal is ranting about the hot guy in his music theory class, paying no mind to Hwei lamenting the limpy carrots that morning him left for afternoon him. Shaking the water off the carrot, he dips it into his ranch and wants to cry with how bitter the carrot tastes. He drops the carrot back in the container, and puts his lunch away. This day only got worse, Hwei thinks as he drops his head onto the bench, and watches the animated way Ezreal speaks.
“—and so, we have a group project coming up, and I asked him to join me, and guess what?” Ezreal’s brows furrow as he looks at Hwei, pausing. Ezreal has known Hwei long enough to not worry about the depressed state the painter is in. He only worries when it lasts longer than a day. So, he keeps going when he recognizes that he wasn’t getting a response anytime soon, “He said no! He left class without joining a group! What the fuck is wrong with that guy?”
Hwei can only muster a shrug, as Ezreal continues on. “And you know what Aphelios said to me?”
“Wait.”
Hwei interrupts, sitting back up with such speed and strength that his back cracks. “Aphelios?” Hwei questions, eyes gone wide as he stares at Ezreal, bewildered. He slams his hands on the table, and stands up. “Aphelios!?” Hwei repeats, almost screaming.
Ezreal is gagged at the sudden outburst. His mouth gapes as he stops midchew, before hesitantly swallowing, “Uh, yeah?”
“That’s him!” Hwei explains, “That is the student who copied me! I can’t believe-” Hwei runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head, “I can’t believe you are working with him! You better watch out.” Hwei finally sits back down when he notices someone looking over at them. He readjusts his shirt collar, as he puts his head in his hands. “I am so sorry, Ezreal, I should have warned you. I should have told you about his trickery earlier. It is all over.”
Ezreal guffaws, dropping his bag of chips down as he keeps laughing until he is out of breath. Hwei, stressed for his best friend, cannot comprehend why Ezreal could think this is anything but horrible. He is in a group with a thief! A con artist! Aphelios is going to take credit for everything Ezreal does! How is this not bothering him?
He voices his concerns out, as Ezreal is gasping for air, tears forming in his eyes. Hwei is seriously worried for him. His eyes are frantically scanning Ezreal’s face. Maybe this is Ezreal’s way of coping, Hwei concludes, obviously, Ezreal is as panicked as he is, locked in a group for one of the first assignments in the semester.
It isn’t until Ezreal catches his breath that he wheezes, “Dude— It’s fine.” Again, Ezreal is back to comforting Hwei, “Seriously, it’s fine. Also, how could you have told me? My class is earlier than yours. And I met Aphelios day one of this class, he’s a cool guy. He just doesn’t talk much.”
“But,” Hwei trails off, worrying his hands as he tries to find the right words to say.
“But, nothing. Also, we went over this. Aphelios wasn’t copying you, he doesn’t know you. Plus, painting is a pretty normal thing to do, he’s an artsy guy. So what if his hometown is similar to yours? It doesn’t make whatever you two have done any less unique.”
The anxiety in Hwei’s brain quiets down, so he hates to admit it, but, “You are right.” Hwei looks off to the side, not able to look Ezreal in the eye, “So you don’t care Aphelios is in your group, then?”
“No, bro, I asked him,” Ezreal reassures him, patting Hwei on the shoulder, “I know your brain comes up with the craziest conclusions, but trust me when I say, Aphelios is a good guy. I’m actually pretty excited workin’ with him! He sent me some of his music, and I think he’s pretty talented.”
Hwei chews on his cheek, fighting the fact his original perception of Aphelios was overblown. People deserve second chances, even an idea-stealing grade-dropper swindler. Hwei doesn’t think too hard about him being wrong about the situation entirely. His overactive imagination and penchant for overthinking makes a combination that Hwei is not equipped to handle. That is why he has Ezreal.
“I see,” Hwei picks at the weathered edges of the wooden bench, “Then, I hope the project with you and Aphelios goes smoothly. And, I hope your endeavors with…”
“Kayn,” Ezreal supplies.
“Goes well,” Hwei smiles softly. A part of him is very grateful that Ezreal has fallen into his life. For everything his best friend has to deal with, Hwei has to give something back, “You are too pretty to be rejected like that.”
Ezreal plays up the compliment, coyly batting his hand and fanning his cheeks, “Awh, you think I’m pretty? Really?”
“Not anymore,” Hwei rolls his eyes. The bells around them start ringing, signifying a new hour. The students around them are packing up to leave for their classes, and Ezreal hurriedly stuffs the rest of his chips in his mouth.
“Well, I’ll catch ya’ later, and,” Ezreal adds quickly, as he slings his backpack over his shoulder, “Let me know how tomorrow’s art class goes with that painting stealer!”
Hwei deadpans as a response, staying seated while Ezreal waves a goodbye. His class isn’t until thirty minutes from now, so it’s time for him to find something to feel the void of time. Sketching comes to mind, but the disdain in his mouth from earlier still has yet to leave. Looking at his past sketches for his painting will only open the gates he and Ezreal tried so hard to close. In an unforeseen turn of events, Hwei does not want to continue agonizing over his grade and over Aphelios. There is something to be said about wanting to turn a new leaf and have a healthier mindset, because Hwei knows he can ruminate until the ends of the Earth are returned to dust. Though, his mind does end up flitting back to that student. He is… Hwei pauses, before slowly letting his thoughts condense a word through the fog. He is…cute.
Cute!?
What.
Hwei rapidly blinks as he jolts in surprise. He rationalizes that yes, Aphelios is cute. He is tall, with a slender frame, a symmetrical face, soft pouty lips, and a black ring pierces his bottom lip right through the middle. So yes, Aphelios is cute, Hwei concludes, that is not wrong to think. But something twinges at Hwei’s insides, this cute is not an artistic cute. This cute is not an admiration of the human form. Not simply an appreciation of a good-looking person, which Hwei knows that feeling all too well. Hwei does think he is cute, in more of a… Hwei trails off again, bringing a finger to his chin as he thinks. In more of a please let me get to know him so I can be his friend and maybe more kind of way.
What?
With a shake of his head, Hwei’s thoughts spiral down. This is not normal for him. He does not get a crush. This is not a crush! He does not even know this man, and his first interaction with him is an entirely internal conflict that led Hwei to hate him! Not a single word has been exchanged, so how can Hwei possibly think this man is cute cute. He is getting ahead of himself. Ezreal spouting off about a handsome guy in his class is making Hwei think of this handsome man in the same way. Hwei nods, agreeing with his inside voice. He is glad most of the students have dispersed, so no one is around to witness him act out this struggle.
Hwei cracks his fingers, one by one, as he regulates his insides. There are no butterflies in his stomach, and there are no images of Aphelios flashing through his mind. He needs a change of scenery, that is all.
Ezreal is getting to him. Hwei blames this random surge on him. How dare he leave while imparting the idea of Aphelios in Hwei? Hwei takes his bottom lip in his teeth, massaging the muscle as he grabs his phone. Searching up the closest cafes around the campus, Hwei will refresh his body, and therefore refresh his mind. Now that is a solid plan, rather than whatever daydreams float about a dreamy — No, not dreamy — art thief.
There looks to be a cafe a five minute walk away, and Hwei is already on the path towards it. There is a slight breeze in the air that Hwei focuses on. Letting the wind blow whatever anxieties and strangeness off of him, Hwei exhales through his mouth as his feet crunch on leaves as he makes his way off campus. His ponytail sways with every step, and his bangs fly off as another zephyr catches on the edges of his hair. He catches a glimpse of himself on the black screen of his phone before turning it back on to check if his directions are right. The eyebags that fill his face have hollowed out a space on his face, while his jaw looks sharper from the lack of food he’s been eating. Living on his own has taken a toll on him. He has lost energy to give his body the nutrients it needs, nor does he ever have the time to properly cook. Sleep is a funny concept to him, as schoolwork piles up, sleep is the first thing Hwei tosses to the side. The stress of university only exacerbates his lack of self-care. Factors compound to give him the gaunty look he has now. Maybe he should change that, maybe if he did, then he’d be more approachable. Maybe Aphelios — Hwei stops.
Again!?
He thinks of him. Again? Hwei internally screams at himself. This is so uncharacteristic of himself. He has never been known to be stuck thinking about one person like this. Yes, he has his obsessions, and he has been obsessed with people before. He had even been obsessed with Ezreal when they were younger, but purely in an artistic sense. He had filled pages and pages of faces he has liked, but his intuition tells him this is different. How? Why? Hwei questions, because this is unknown to him. He has never had a relationship and does not even know what romance feels like. This cannot be romance. Although, how bad could it be if it was? Ezreal has hopped from one relationship to another, and while some have taken its toll on his friend, it all seems so fun to Hwei. Though, this desire to want to know another person is not what Hwei does. He lets people step into his life. He has never taken the first step.
Maybe that is what Hwei will do. He will let Aphelios into his life. In the meantime, he will entertain the idea of Aphelios. He will toy with the concept of Aphelios, and let it paint pictures in his mind. That sounds like a good plan. Hwei gives into this humanistic feeling for once, rather than shying away from it. What is the point of moving away from his family if not to allow new experiences color his life?
Hwei makes it to the cafe, pushing the door to no avail. He jiggles the door for a good second before reading the pull sign.
Ah.
Despite the new discoveries he has made in this short walk, Hwei still fumbles about. Blushing slightly, embarrassed at himself, Hwei pulls the door open. The bell above the door rings, and Hwei is greeted by the sight of a wooden coffee bar. The cafe is rustic in its decorations. Wood panels line the walls, while cozy sofa chairs fill the interior. A coffee table piled high with magazines sits on top of a Persian rug. There is a candle lit, and the scent of pumpkin and cinnamon waft through the air. Coffee mixes in, and Hwei feels enveloped in a warm hug the moment he steps in. There looks to be one other patron in here with him, although tucked away in the corner, Hwei is not able to catch a good look. Nor does he want to, staring at people is weird. Past experiences remind Hwei that people do not want to be stared at, no matter how much he explains he is an artist and thinks they look interesting. Actually, most people find that more offensive than not saying anything at all.
The barista has her back turned to him, steaming up hot milk as espresso drips into the cup next to her. Reading the chalkboard menu, Hwei’s eyes quickly take in the information before quickly making up his mind on an order. Waiting patiently behind the counter, Hwei tilts his head up. There is a shelf above him, full of little trinkets. A snowglobe sits on one corner, with a potted plant right next to it. The vines trickle down, as the weight of the leaves pulls them off the edge. It’s nice, Hwei comments to himself, there is a comfort to be found here. Hwei has always romanticized being a barista in a quaint cafe like this, though Hwei knows he would be terrible with a customer-facing job.
The barista finishes pouring the milk into the cup, and heads to the other side of the bar to call out:
“Hot lavender latte for Phel!”
A sound of a chair being pushed back takes Hwei’s attention. He presumes it is Phel going to pick up their order. By the time the customer reaches his peripheral, a familiar silhouette catches Hwei’s heartbeat in his throat.
Aphelios.
Again!?
Hwei can never get a break. Of course, when he goes to a new place to find respite from thoughts of a certain man, that certain man rears his ugly head. Not ugly, the other side of Hwei’s brain corrects. Shut up, the other other side of Hwei’s brain snaps.
Aphelios grabs his latte, noticing Hwei’s staring as he turns around. His steps stutter for a moment before giving a meek wave at Hwei.
The slight acknowledgement from him should not have sent Hwei’s heart into a flutter. His heartbeat is rising, and he grips the underside of his wrist to make sure he is not having a heart attack from how quickly blood rushes up his face. By the time Hwei reciprocates the wave, Aphelios has already walked away back to his spot on a vintage crushed velvet loveseat. Hwei is left staring at the floor where Aphelios was standing, and his stupor is only broken when the barista greets him.
“Hello, how are you today?” The barista smiles, with the stereotypical pleasantry.
Hwei stutters as he replies, “I-I’m good, how are you?”
“I’m good!” The barista cheerily responds before asking, “What can I get ya?”
“Um,” Hwei’s order has flown out of the window, and now being put on the spot, he flounders, “Just a, uh- A black coffee. Please.”
Good job, Hwei, he pats himself on the back, as he wants to groan. He does not want a black coffee, but the barista has already plugged the order into the system. Hwei refuses to be the person who asks to change their order at the last minute.
“Alrighty, what’s a good name for the order?” The barista already has a cup in hand, while holding a Sharpie up.
“Hwei.”
The barista quickly scribbles the name on, before one final question, “It’ll be an even three bucks, cash or card?”
“I’ll do cash.”
“Great!”
The barista turns away to pour his drip coffee. While Hwei fishes out his wallet from the dark crevices of his backpack, he forces his eyes to stay focused on the task at hand. He wants to look towards where Aphelios is sitting, but he can’t ruin a first, second? impression. Aphelios obviously recognizes him, but does noticing a classmate you’ve never talked to count as a first impression? Hwei does not know, but before he can dig himself a deeper mental hole, he grabs three dollar bills. The barista exchanges the cup in her hand with Hwei’s money, and with a quick direction of where the sugar and cream are, he is sent on his way.
Walking towards the separate counter, he takes the creamer and pours as much the cup allows. He takes the sugar container and dumps an awful amount into it, as he punches himself over his messed up order. He hates black coffee, and would much rather have a sugary latte to tide him over. Though it is what it is, Hwei has made this bed for himself. He shall make the best of it, before lying down on it.
He scans the cafe, finding a comfortable chair by the window. Coincidentally, it is on the other side of where Aphelios is at, who has his laptop open on some sort of assignment that Hwei cannot see from here. Hwei is staring at the back of his head, while Aphelios wears his headphones, unaware of the creepy guy behind him. Aphelios is dressed plainly, a graphic tee and baggy jeans. There is a silver chain that goes around his neck, and a light jacket hangs off the back of the sofa. Hwei could start a conversation, but to interrupt someone while they are working seems like a bad idea.
Hwei does not know how to approach this. He thinks back to his plan about letting Aphelios stepping into his life, and decides to stick to it. He turns his body back in his chair, as he sips on his coffee. Watching people walk past on the sidewalk, Hwei would usually create scenarios for everyone he sees. A mom goes by with a double stroller, as a stranger with a toddler in hand waves her across the street. She stops, smiling as she waves back. They must be friends, bonding mothers. Maybe the lady with the older child has helped her out with the newborns? A teenage boy runs across his vision, holding his phone to his ear as he shouts into it. The panicked expression on him makes Hwei wonder what caught his eye. Is he trying to catch a bus? A few moments later, a bus goes past, and the teenage boy comes back with a disappointed look. Hwei snorts into his cup, a sense of achievement crosses him, knowing he is right. That is the fun part of people watching. On rare occasions, Hwei can catch such fleeting moments, create an explanation, and be proven right in less than a minute. Although, most of the enjoyment comes from seeing people be people. Seeing a community unfold in front of his eyes, and Hwei has nothing to do with it. Hwei enjoys watching and creating, more than partaking in an activity. He has always been like this.
As a child, his parents would comment on his lack of interest in making friends. Hwei would brush their concerns off, because what does a parent have to be mad about if their child comes home with full marks? Sure, a socially inept child is not ideal, but an academically successful child? That is what a parent hopes for. People can be cruel, and a child can be friends with the wrong person who takes them down the wrong path. There is no such thing as a wrong grade if the grade is an A+ everytime. Whenever he did have free time, he’d spend it drawing. A paper and pencil was his first medium, before his parents saw his affinity for the arts. Crayons, colored pencils, finger paints turned into acrylics, oils, palettes, full canvases. He earned a full ride to college through his artworks alone.
Hwei wonders what he could have been if art wasn’t part of his life. What if Hwei learned how to converse rather than learning brushstrokes and techniques? Would Hwei be more successful? A life full of friends and acquaintances, rather than a life full of paints and stressful nights when his art did not come out the way as intended. When the pool of creativity dried up, leaving Hwei feeling worthless? What if, instead, he could call upon whoever, whenever? He supposes he is content with his close knit friends. Ezreal is a blessing to him. He still sends updates to his mentor, Jhin, on one large email thread. Even Ekko and Seraphine, friends of Ezreal, have squirmed their way into Hwei’s life, appearing here and there. Though that’s where it stops. Hwei does not think he has the room for more. But, with a quick glance to the man across from him, Hwei could try and make space. Aphelios, someone Hwei has only paid attention to today, has already infiltrated his thoughts in a way that no one else has. Hwei hungers to learn more. He wants to know who this man is, and what his goals in life are. His favorite foods, his favorite music, his favorite color, Hwei wants to conceptualize Aphelios. Hwei wants to grasp the mundanities in his life, and create a character map of him.
Hwei finishes the bottom of his cup by the time Aphelios closes his laptop. Rolling the empty cup in his hand, Hwei hears the rustling of a bag, and the ringing of the bell. Aphelios is already outside, and Hwei can only stare at his back.
This seems to be a recurring theme. Aphelios is always ahead of him, so close to Hwei’s grasp, yet Hwei refuses to stick a hand out. Too scared of the rejection that may follow, Hwei forces himself to stay in the shadows.
It is fine, Hwei reassures himself, this is all fine.
He is totally not head over heels for someone he hated a few hours prior. He is totally not thinking about sharing a future with a man he has never talked to. That would be ridiculous. Right?
Hwei feels like he is about to walk into a hurricane with no protection.