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The tiniest details about an object can tell the dirtiest secrets about its creator. Hua Cheng knew this as well as any artist. There was depression in every stroke of Van Gogh’s brush, mania in every splash of paint and drip of blood on Pollock’s canvas, unfed lust in every minuscule mark Hua Cheng left with his own chisel on the marble slabs that littered his studio, desire swirling in the chemicals of his black room, desperation in the pigments that stained his brushes in the sink of his kitchen.
The little umbrella that had been in his drink flipped between his fingers as he watched the ice cubes melt, liquor long gone. He should be home doing… something. Anything. Painting, sculpting, photographing, hell, even horticulture at this point sounded like a good option. He had an exhibit opening in a month and he had nothing .
“Another?”
Hua Cheng grunted, flippantly waving the waiter away. He didn’t know if he had actually ordered another drink or not, but the glass that held his gaze was gone and soft footsteps were tapping away. That was rude, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The man probably dealt with worse on a daily basis, anyway. Being ignored probably wasn’t even all that memorable for him.
A minute later, in which he wasn’t even sure if he’d remembered to blink, a fresh glass was carefully placed down beside his hand, a new umbrella stabbed into the wedge of orange. This one, unlike the mass-produced piece of trash he’d been absently playing with, didn’t look like it had been printed. The design wasn’t any quick pattern but a deep crimson with delicately detailed silver butterflies and maple leaves splashed across it. Despite its minuscule size, it managed to not be crowded. Plucking it out, he twisted it around, examining the fine craftsmanship of the entire thing, finding it to truly be a functional umbrella, simply shrunk.
After a few experimental flicks to open and close it, watching the little runner and upper spring click into place, his intrigue only grew.
He caught the waiter’s wrist gently as he passed by again, “Sorry, but… where do you source these?” he asked, not looking up.
“Source-? Oh!” the man laughed, “I make them,” he admitted, a sheepish note in his tone.
“You?” Hua Cheng looked up, seeing first that the man was holding a box of papers and fragile sticks, following a white sleeve up to a delicate throat, pausing there for a moment as he watched him swallow nervously. He paused once more on soft lips, the bottom being worried between white teeth. A perfectly proportioned nose, and finally, finally, his gaze met amber eyes that looked at him worriedly.
“Sir? Could… could you let go, please?” though the words were said like a request, there was a hint of warning that it was more than a mere suggestion.
Only then did he realize there was a faint tremor to the hand in his hold, and he let go, flinching as if burned. “Sorry! I just… this is amazing. I just…”
“Would…. you like to learn how to make them?” the beauty before him offered with a shy smile, hand pulling back as well, hiding beneath a scuffed box he’d been holding.
Hua Cheng blinked at him dumbly for an embarrassingly long moment, “I… wouldn’t want to pull you away from your work,” he said faintly.
The beauty shook his head, “You wouldn’t be. You’re the only one here, actually. I was going to sit at the table over there and work on them, but if you’d like to watch…” he let his sentence trail off in an offer, setting his load on the table across from Hua Cheng, hand reaching toward the chair opposite.
“Please,” Hua Cheng said, trying to smile welcomingly as he hurried to stand and pull the chair out for him instead, “They really are beautiful.”
He was rewarded with a light dusting of blush across the top of soft cheeks, “Ah, thank you,” the beauty said, lightly scratching at his cheek with a finger, clearly a nervous tick, “my mother taught me when I was small. It reminds me of her. They aren’t nearly as good as hers were, though.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Hua Cheng chuckled, clearing the table of his detritus to allow the other more room to spread out his own supplies. “And if it were, her work must have been a gift from the divine.” He didn’t know where this sort of language was coming from, he never spoke like this to anyone, let alone a stranger he had no reason to even be talking to in the first place, but with each word that unwittingly slipped from his tongue, the more beautiful the man that had caught his attention became, his whole face awash with the flames of his embarrassment.
The beauty laughed nervously, scratching at his cheek as he allowed himself to sink into the offered chair, “Ah-ha, well, thank you.” He reached into the box and withdrew the spindly skeleton of an unmade umbrella, fiddling with it between his fingers, not able to meet Hua Cheng’s eye, “Um… my given name is Lian, family name Xie.”
It was a perfect name for such a man, and Hua Cheng’s smile only grew, “You can call this one San Lang. Do you make the frames yourself or do you buy those?” he asked, letting the man save some face as he turned his attention down to the box, carefully plucking out one of his own.
“I make all of it, start to finish. Well, I don’t make the paint, or the paper, but I put it all together. And I shape the wood. It’s a nice little thoughtless task to keep my hands busy while I’m listening to music or just watching over the bar waiting for customers.” He pulled out a piece of paper and started folding it, “Well, I guess I have made the paper a few times, but it always comes out too thick for the small umbrellas, but they work pretty well on full-sized pieces.”
“You make full-sized umbrellas as well?” Hua Cheng asked, eyes not moving from the precise skill of delicate fingers.
“Not very often, they’re much more expensive and time-consuming. And I don’t have the best luck finding pieces of wood that I can use that large,” Xie Lian admitted, glancing up and blushing when he caught Hua Cheng’s gaze, staring back for a moment.
Hua Cheng hummed, resting his cheek in a palm, not the least bit regretful for his transgression, “Which woods do you think are the best?”
“Well,” Xie Lian cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away, to Hua Cheng’s immense displeasure, “I like cherry when I can find it?” he almost seemed to be asking for permission for his choice.
“And why is that?”
Xie Lian glanced up again, “Why… do I like cherry?”
“Yes.” Hua Cheng nodded decisively, “Why do you have a preference toward that over something such as… maple?”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Xie Lian assembling small umbrellas while Hua Cheng watched him with a small smile, slumping a little more in his seat.
“I… don’t really know,” Xie Lian finally admitted, setting the completed umbrella between them, folding his hands in his lap, and looking at the other across the table, “I like the natural color of the wood as I carve it, and the smell, but maple is very nice as well. I really think it’s just a case of personal preference.” A light flush took over his cheeks and Hua Cheng found it even more endearing, “Does… that make sense?”
“Certainly, Gege. Every artist has their preferences, I won’t fault you for your opinion.” Hua Cheng assured, sitting up properly again and carefully lifting the umbrella, turning it around like the others before, “this is amazing, Gege.”
“...Gege?”
Hua Cheng glanced up, “Is something the matter?”
“No! No, I was just…”
“If you don’t want me to call you that, I can just-”
“Gege is fine! It’s… It’s nice, I like it. You can keep calling me Gege.” The flush only darkened with his enthusiastic reassurance.
“Well then, Gege,” Hua Cheng slowly moved his way around the table to sit beside Xie Lian, “can you show me again?”
The smile he was rewarded with could have filled museums around the world, “Of course, San Lang,” he reached for another wooden skeleton and slowly explained the entire process as he performed each step, checking that his student was understanding as he did and letting him ask questions as needed.
By the third umbrella, Hua Cheng had started following along clumsily, to Xie Lian’s amusement, a fond tone in his voice as he corrected Hua Cheng, helping straighten a crooked canopy, letting their fingertips brush.
By the twentieth, their creations were almost indistinguishable from each other in their craftsmanship, and they had begun chatting about all manner of topics and interests, concentration no longer needed to put them together.
It had been a long time since Hua Cheng had simply been allowed to enjoy himself, and his companion certainly made it easier to forget the deadlines of the outside world.
At some point, the bar started to get more patrons, but Hua Cheng didn’t mind, continuing to chatter away with Xie Lian and making lopsided little umbrellas to go beside the perfectly poised ones dexterous fingers managed across from him. They were just starting to have to shout to be heard over the loud music when a strikingly beautiful person came over and grabbed Xie Lian by the arm, “A-Lian, come dance~” they whined, tugging dramatically. They were the kind of beautiful that took a lot of practice and many cosmetics, though the base was probably attractive enough underneath as well.
Xie Lian sent Hua Cheng a sheepishly apologetic smile, “Sorry, you don’t mind, do you?”
Hua Cheng sent him a charming smile in return, waving him off, “Not at all. You’ve let me steal enough of your time tonight, I’m sure your friend would like some as well. I’ll just keep practicing, shall I?”
Xie Lian stood rooted for another moment before he nodded, smile becoming more genuinely warm, “I’d like to continue our conversation, if that’s okay?”
“I’ll be waiting,” Hua Cheng assured, shooing the pair away. He didn’t go back to the craft at hand, simply tidying it up back into the box and leaning back in his seat to watch the pair and whatever ‘dancing’ the new figure had in mind.
As it turned out, ‘dancing’ meant exactly that. The newcomer was a little jerky and sloppy in their movements, their state of unbalance relaying a certain level of drunkenness, but Xie Lian was there to steady them with a hand to guide them in a spin that almost looked planned. Twists, turns, laughter and movements that might have been sexual if their expressions weren’t simply joy. At some point, the stranger’s fingers found their way into Xie Lian’s hair, relieving him of his elastic, and there was even more movement to be entranced by. Hua Cheng hadn’t realized how much hair Xie Lian had when it was all piled on top of his head like that, but now… he just wanted to feel it between his fingers. Run his hands through it. Maybe bury his face in it in bed.
Where had that thought come from?
He shook his head, forcing his mind back to the present, and in the moments he’d been distracted, he’d lost sight of the two.
There was a cheer from the other side of the room from the ‘dancefloor’, and the movement was above his head.
They were on the bar.
They were dancing on the bar, and Hua Cheng didn’t know where he wanted to be. Whether it was where he sat now, standing next to that bar, or up there with him.
He didn’t even know how to dance, but he was willing to learn if it meant those eyes were on him again.
Holy fuck, he had it bad, and it had only been a few hours.
The song changed and the friend started jumping happily, cheering and trying to get Xie Lian to be just as enthused. Xie Lian offered a smile, happy smile and held onto their hands, but stayed where he was, happy to just be there for support. When the friend started dancing again, they took a step too far to one side, and already off balance, they began to lose against the pull of gravity.
Xie Lian pulled them back easily, getting them half steady, but the pull was too great, and the beauty Hua Cheng had spent the night watching was now the one falling, and his friend was just a second too far behind to react in time.
Hua Cheng had never moved so fast in his life, barely managing to catch him awkwardly in his arms, spinning with the momentum and cradling him close while another man darted forward to scoop up his friend on the far side of the bar, expression stormy as he started reprimanding them. Hua Cheng wasn’t paying attention to the words, looking down at Xie Lian in his arms and checking him over for injured, fingers lightly pressing at his scalp.
“I’m fine,” Xie Lian laughed nervously, squirming slightly, “You can put me down, I’m fine, really.”
Hua Cheng ignored him and kept pressing, frowning as he worked. If he directed his attention anywhere else, someone might end up in the hospital, jail, or the morgue.
Xie Lian caught his wrist, squeezing lightly until he met his eye, “San Lang, I’m fine,” he reassured softly, “You can put me down back at our table, if that’ll make you feel better.”
Hua Cheng nodded, cast a glare at the other two, and turned to do just that. He returned Xie Lian to the seat he’d been in before and continued his checking again, to the beauty’s embarrassed amusement, and then he’d finally decided no harm had been done he held out his hand, “Would you like me to put your hair back up for you?”
Xie Lian cocked his head, his hair half falling across his face in a beautiful wave, and smile, dropping the elastic into his hand, “You really don’t need to worry about me this much. I’m very sturdy, it’s not the first time something like this has happened.”
Hua Cheng gripped the elastic tightly enough in his fist that his knuckles went white, “Then he should know better.”
“They do,” Xie Lian reassured, gently prying his fingers open, “They do, it’s just… it’s just one of those days. You know how it is.”
And, unfortunately, Hua Cheng actually did know how it was.
Though he’d never had anyone he would have felt guilty hurting in one of his spirals.
Hua Cheng sighed, flexing his fingers to release some more of the tension that had settled in his bones, and pushed himself up to move and stand behind Xie Lian, gently finger-combing back his hair, “So, who was your friend?” he asked, wanting to hear that voice, because if he was silent, he might night be okay, but if he could talk, there was more of a chance he was fine.
Xie Lian let his head be tilted back and looked up at him through his lashes upsidedown, “My friend? Oh, that’s Shi Qingxuan, they actually own the bar. Well, we both own the bar, but they bought the space and the startup cost. It was kind of fifty-fifty in the planning and business aspect.”
“Shi? As in Shi Shipping company?” Hua Cheng hummed, starting to add in a small braid behind Xie Lian’s ear, fingers nimble. He’d had a time where he’d been fascinated by macreme and lacemaking.
“His brother is the CEO, it’s the family business. Shi Wudu comes in sometimes to check how we’re doing. I think it’s to keep an eye on Qingxuan, and to see if I’ve lost my mind yet.” Xie Lian laughed, letting his eyes close, “you have nice fingers.”
“Do I?” Hua Cheng hummed, letting his nails scrap across his scalp.
“Yeah. They’re a little rough, but they’re sure.”