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Somewhere along Sixth Avenue, socialite and model Yao Wang is walking in Dior boots and cheap sunglasses are perched on his head. His clothes are unknown pieces from his ex’s closet - an oversized tee, cargo shorts low and slinging around his waist. His hair is dishevelled, but it doesn’t really matter, because he’s still one of best looking people in NYC, and no amount of divorce papers or coke scandals could ever ruin that for him. No, no. He was brilliant. He was beautiful. Everyone loved him. For fuck’s sake, he was on half the tabloids at this magazine stand, even if most of them were slut shaming him.
He picks one up, the egregious title of “THAI PRINCE CAUGHT WITH SOCIALITE IN SOHO” blaring in a black and yellow font that takes up nearly the entirety of the headliners. And then that fucking photograph, the one that had gotten him kicked out of Arthur’s apartment this morning. Of him sucking the prince’s dick under a club table.
“We’re divorced! Why does it even matter?!” he huffed, strangling the magazine with gritted teeth. “He’s done worse in our shared bedroom!”
“You’ll have to pay for that,” said the vendor.
“I’m on the magazine!” Yao pointed out.
“So?” the vendor glared. “Four dollars and ninety-nine cents please.”
Yao fished out whatever coins he could find in Arthur’s pants and from the depths of his Hermes wallet.
“Here,” he said resignedly, placing the money into the vendor’s outstretched hand.
So now with a shitty magazine stuck to his hand and about three dollars in cash left, Yao was left to wander the streets back to his Park Avenue penthouse. Why did Arthur have to live so goddamn close? If only he had cash for a cab. Arthur wouldn’t let him use the driver. But with the proximity, how could he seriously not expect them to fuck again? It was inevitable, like a fight if they took Gil on a night out, or an overdose if they brought Kiku anywhere near ketamine. Arthur was just acting like a child, like he was actually hurt that Yao was using him for sex or something.
When he reached his building, even his doorman looked at him with pity.
“Good afternoon, Mr Wang,” he said.
“Afternoon,” he replied begrudgingly. He thought it was morning - how long had they fucked for?
He threw the tabloid into the lobby’s bin before going straight up to his penthouse. The elevator directly opened into it, of course. He had the whole floor to himself.
When he got home, Leon was eating lunch with his nanny, Mei, in the living room. He looked up at his baba with semi-concerned eyes.
“Hi ba,” he said. “Daddy called to tell you to never talk to him again.”
Yao rolled his eyes, ruffling his hair as he passed his extravagantly long sofa to sit beside his son. “Yeah? What else did he say?”
“That he was gonna bring me to see a monster truck show,” said Leon. “In California.”
“Fine,” Yao huffed. “But you still love me more, right?”
Leon looked unsure for a moment, while Mei simply looked disapproving.
“Leon..” Yao patted Leon’s face. “Baba loves you more than anything, you know?”
“I love you too,” Leon said earnestly. “I think you’re the prettiest person in the world, and daddy is the ha-“
“Thank you, Xiao Long,” Yao smiled graciously. “So how about you tell him you can’t go to that monster truck show, and I’ll bring you to the Lego store later. Deal?”
Leon looked unsure again. “Why can’t we all go to the same places, like we used to?”
“We’ve been over this,” Yao said gently. “We’re divorced.”
“But then you got back together,” said Leon.
“Yeah, but then.. we divorced again, and again..” Yao felt kind of shitty now. Could they be possibly fucking up Leon? No… no, they weren’t. They bought a building in his name when he was born. They loved him!
“Yao, uh, sorry, it’s Leon’s piano lesson now. The governess is coming over in a minute,” Mei suddenly interrupted. “Is it okay if we..?”
“Yeah,” Yao sighed. “Okay, talk later, bye darling.”
He kissed Leon on the cheek and let Mei take him to the drawing room, where the piano was. Then he lazily sauntered up to his own bedroom. It was a mess - he didn’t like the housekeepers touching it. There was a half-done baggie on his nightstand, a few used condoms on the floor from when Arthur last came (literally), and oh - half his wardrobe was streaming out of his walk-in closet because he couldn’t find an outfit for the SoHo party last night.
Yao ignored all of that and flopped onto his unmade bed. It was too big without someone here.. someone blond.. and bushy browed- with the biggest dick he’d ever fucked-
Nope. He’d tossed him away this morning. How dare he? No, Yao would not return. He pushed his sunglasses down, and decided to take a nap.
—
Yao’s cell phone rang at about three in the afternoon, and he picked it up, groaning.
“Yes?”
Kiku’s voice streamed through. “You fucked Arthur again, last night? Seriously?”
“Yes,” Yao said. Fuck - that Greek dude in Arthur’s building must’ve snitched. He and Kiku were friends or fuckbuddies or something or other.
“What about that restraining order you were going to file?”
“I’ll file it later,” Yao said stubbornly.
“Why don’t you just get back together already,” Kiku said snidely. “And stop torturing everyone around you. Especially my godson.”
“Leon’s fine, he understands! He’s mature for his age,” Yao replied, taking off his sunglasses and tossing them to the side. “He never cries or throws tantrums.”
Kiku huffed. “You’re fucking awful. And Arthur’s fucking awful. You’ve actually both been fucking awful since prep anyway, so just stay together and don’t poison the rest of the world.”
“You’re so harsh, Kiku,” Yao yawned, unbothered. “Anyway, no. He kicked me out this morning, so I’m not seeing him again.”
“You know you will.”
“No, goodbye,” lied Yao, hanging up on his cousin. The phone snapped shut, the bell on his kitty keychain tinkling softly with the force of it.
Yao knew deep down Kiku was right about everything. But honestly - he couldn’t be bothered right now.
—
Arthur was in a very bad mood on set today. And that meant everybody was walking on egg shells, because he was said to be the greatest actor of the 21st century by multiple directors and publications thank you very much, so don’t fucking piss him off.
Of course, the cast’s saving grace entered the studio: the one Francis Bonnefoy, Parisian fashion designer and possibly the cause of NY’s latest chlamydia outbreak.
“Bonjour!” he trilled, kissing everyone on the cheek before walking straight into his dressing room. “Artie!”
“Why are you here?” Arthur snapped, and the stylist doing his hair flinched. “Is everyone hellbent on pissing me off today?”
“Because I’ve got a pap-shot of our darling Yao walking out of your apartment today!” Francis said pleasantly, opening his phone to show Arthur. “In my latest design for Dior! Look at those legs.. and those boots! My boots!”
“And my clothes… asshole,” muttered Arthur. God, why did he let him in again last night? And why did Arthur cum in him again last night? “Fuck- I don’t want to see his face ever again. This was the last time. I’m serious.”
“Sure it was,” Francis said, smiling. “Wanna go out tonight? There’s a new bar downtown! The girls and guys.. both beautiful. It’ll help you get your mind off Yao.”
“Say no more,” replied Arthur.
The mood on set brightened considerably afterwards.
—
The day Yao and Arthur met was the first day of prep school. They hadn’t even looked at each other, because they were only seven. And then they had become somewhat friends because everyone who was anyone knew each other there - their families were always crossing paths at galas or St Bart’s or Lake Como.
But their evil relationship did not strike earth till they turned sixteen. Arthur had a growth spurt, and Yao had gone on Accutane - which meant they were both now the best looking people at school, so let’s just fuck like rabbits all over New York City, our Hamptons houses, and every other metropolitan in the world.
Their families had approved too - both came from old money, descended from British/Chinese aristocracy, and a few of their companies already had business deals tied together. And gender didn’t really matter - they could afford surrogacy.
So on the outside, everything was perfect. But with their drug and cheating habits, of course things were bound to fall apart. And then back together. And then apart. And then together.
Everyone was so sick of it that they had a “divorce party” for the last one, and all their friends made them swear to not get married again.
“Do you, Arthur, and you, Yao,” Antonio said, facing both his friends over Feli and Ludwig’s classical dining table. “Swear upon these two empty vodka bottles,” he gestured to the Grey Gooses. “That this will be your third, and final divorce?”
“Absolutely!” they had both said.
“You may slap your ex,” announced the Spaniard.
And they had - then they had kissed. But then their friends pulled them apart before it could go any further. It had been settled, really. Truly, they weren’t getting back together, ever again.
—
As Arthur got off set, he suddenly received a call on his personal cell. He sat in the back of his Mercedes, his nostrils flaring as he looked at the caller ID.
Leon? Or was it really Leon? His eyes narrowed as he picked up.
“What the fuck do you want?” he snapped.
“…daddy?”
Fuck. Arthur hurriedly changed his tone. “Lee, love. What’s up? Sorry, I thought you were… someone else.”
“Uh.. you know.. for the monster truck show?” Leon’s voice was getting nervous.
“Yes?”
“Can we also.. also bring baba?”
Arthur sighed. “No, darling, we cannot.”
There was a little bit of silence, then a tiny “okay”.
“Anything else?”
“No. Bye bye.”
“Bye Lee, I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Leon hung up then, and Arthur was left feeling like the worst father in the world. Fuck… no. This was Yao’s fault. If he hadn’t fucked up all those times, they’d still be together and Leon wouldn’t be sad. Yes - and Arthur was always trying to make his son happy, wasn’t he? Sure they had less time together because of Arthur’s career, but he still made an effort. And he’d brought him to Disneyland more than Yao ever had. Ha. That was great parenting!
“I’m a good father,” he said out loud, a comfort to nobody but himself.
His driver gave him a dirty look from the rearview mirror, and usually Arthur would fire someone for that - but this time.. he couldn’t even be bothered.
—
Yao dragged himself out of bed to get changed. He had an event tonight at some stupid party, for some new club downtown. That particular spot had been changing hands every five months since it was built - and Yao was sure that it was the fengshui, though Afiq and Feliks had said it could be black magic.
He was dressed head-to-toe in Maison Margiela today, save for his Goyard bag. He walked down the stairs to the living room, and saw Mei and Leon eating dinner together in front of the television. They were watching some cartoon - one of Leon’s favourites that he couldn’t quite recall.
“Hi, bao bei,” Yao went over, kissing Leon’s forehead. “Rugrats?”
Leon frowned. “This is Teen Titans. I’ve told you about it.”
“Sorry, you know baba’s forgetful sometimes,” Yao smiled. “I’m going out now. Be good for Mei.”
“He’s always good,” Mei said hastily, as if she’d been told to say it. “Really good. A great kid.”
“Yes, I know,” said Yao proudly, ruffling Leon’s hair and then smoothening it again. “Bye!”
—
Arthur absolutely hated this party. Firstly, it was one of the nastiest smelling clubs he’d ever been to, and he’d been to Brooklyn multiple times so that was saying something. Secondly, he’d dressed all wrong - he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans and half the people here seemed to be in BDSM gear. And thirdly, he had lost Francis five minutes upon entering, because the Frenchman had caught wind of some beautiful models.
Arthur himself was getting hit on - just the perks of being rich, handsome, and famous. But he didn’t really feel up to it tonight. He settled for another pint.
“More beer, please,” he gestured to the bartender.
“Comin’ up. Need any extras?”
“.. no, not now,” Arthur muttered. He left his baggie at Yao’s last week. He should seriously drop by and get it one of these days, maybe say hi to Leon, but he never knew when his ex was home. And that was supposed to be their home - they’d bought it together! But Yao had won it in all three divorces.
Furious, he took another deep swig of his beer. Fuck him. Fuck his stupid pretty face and eyelashes and shoulders and that tongue flicking thing he did when he blew him and grabbed his balls-
He took another swig. He needed to get laid.
Arthur turned to the girl next to him. She was tall and brunette and had green eyes - god, she was perfect, like all the other beauties here. She was better looking than Yao, and younger too. And she was smiling at him.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” she said. “You’re.. Arthur Kirkland. The actor.. from that mafia movie.”
Arthur grinned. “Did you like it?”
She nodded, then suddenly her eyes flickered to something behind him. “..isn’t that your ex?”
Arthur turned around so fast he could barely breathe. Indeed, yes, Yao had came out of the woodwork to taunt him yet again. He looked good as he did last night and this morning, of course, and he was dancing with that Korean chaebol friend of his - fuck.. why were they fucking grinding on each other? It was disgusting.
“Shit,” Arthur cursed.
“New York’s just too small,” said the girl. “Wanna dance anyway?”
“Yeah,” Arthur said, offering his hand to her. Yes, he’d be taking his mind off Yao.
They settled on the dance floor, far away from Yao, and for a moment, Arthur did try to forget about him. But his eyes kept leading back to him, and Yao to his - under the bright lights and the drugs and amongst the filthy bodies that were squashed around them.
Arthur held the girl in his arms as they swayed - and Yao too, in that Yong Soo’s arms. Didn’t he even feel bad, for breaking Arthur’s heart so many times?
Meanwhile, Yao stared at him from his partner’s shoulder. Of course he’d be here. He’d need to move to fucking Antarctica to avoid this man. And who was that girl anyway? She looked so young.. Arthur was so disgusting, seriously. He knew he had tried to hit on Mei when the blond came to pick Leon up for lunch once. Fucking asshole.
He watched as Arthur’s hands trailed down to her waist, enfolding her, holding her.. like he used to hold Yao, when they first got together and they’d sneak into nightclubs, after smoking cigars stolen from Arthur’s dad’s office. The first time they ever did, Arthur had kissed Yao as they swayed together, one hand on his face and one hand on his lower waist; like he was doing to her… now.
“I’ve had enough,” Yao muttered, his loose ponytail whipping Yong Soo’s face as he turned around, unable to look at any more of this.
“What?! But we just got here.”
“Then you can stay.”
“Yao, wa-“
Yao pushed past everyone, not even caring about strangers attempting to grope him. The little mascara he had applied was running just a little, and his top had fallen off one shoulder. He looked like a mess too. Goddammit.
“Fuck,” he hissed as he took out a cigarette, lighting it as he went past the bouncers and the queue. “Fuck..”
“Yao.”
He didn’t even have to turn to see who it was. He could already hear the whispering and murmuring everyone always did, when he arrived.
“What.”
“C’mon, Yao.”
“You said you never wanted to see me again. Or rather you made Leon say it,” Yao said, taking a drag. “So I’m not looking at you right now.”
“Yao.. we already saw each other in there-“
“Just go home and fuck that girl, OK? We can call it even for the prince thing.. and … and.. why do we even have to care? We’re not together! We’re just having sex sometimes!” Yao babbled out, his face and neck turning red. He knew he was being insane. “Just go!”
“Let’s just stop.”
Yao’s heart sank, though that was what he was supposed to want. “Right.”
“No,” Arthur turned him around. His green-eyed gaze was intense as ever. “Let’s.. let’s stop… this.”
“That’s what I said,” Yao mumbled, tearing himself away from Arthur’s grasp. “Go home.”
“No,” Arthur muttered. Then he let out a loud, frustrated sound - like a half-yell. “Yao!”
“Oh, now you’re acting crazy,” Yao said.
“We’re both fucking crazy! And it’s driving everyone else crazy!”
“You made me crazy first, you bastard!” Yao yelled back.
Nearly the entire street was looking at them - and they could both feel the cameras flashing against their faces. But they were too riled up to stop.
“I meant! Fuck- let’s just.. let’s just get back together, alright?!”
“What?! You just said we should stop this! Are you fucking delusional?!”
“No! You are! Why’d you even think you could be with anyone but me? So what if he’s a damn prince?!” Arthur raged, gesturing wildly to nothing.
“I- it was just a blowjob,” Yao stressed, his eyes blinking in confusion. “And we’re divorced. Arthur-“
“You know we’ll get back together in the end,” the blond said, huffing slightly now, his eyes blown out. “You know it. I know it.”
“No, no, no,” Yao cried out. “We swore upon Grey Goose! And you got all the nice vases the last time! I can’t lose anymore..”
“Shut up, just- shut the fuck up,” Arthur said. “Just be with me. Okay?”
Yao looked at him sullenly, his nose red, his eye makeup dripping. Arthur didn’t know how he could look so gorgeous in this state. God, was he stupid? How could he have let this idiotic man go, over and over again? No one else could tolerate him, or take care of him like Arthur could. He tangled his arms around Yao, burying his face into his silky hair. He smelled the same.. Chanel and smoke. His darling, darling man.
Yao dropped his cigarette to the floor and gave up. Fuck. Fuck it all.
“You asshole,” he said bitterly, his tears staining Arthur’s shirt. “Just come over.”
—
The next morning, Yao and Arthur woke up to several missed calls and texts from publicists and friends alike, as well as a sleeping child between them on Yao’s king-sized bed.
“He must’ve crawled into our bed in the middle of the night,” Arthur said, gently placing the comforter over Leon.
“Yeah,” Yao said softly, his eyes tender as he gazed down at their son. “Hopefully he didn’t see us..”
“No,” Arthur replied. “I cleaned you up.”
Yao flushed. “Right. Thanks.”
They were both still in their boxers, and Yao’s neck was severely decorated. Arthur picked up the baggie from the nightstand - the one he’d left behind.
“You didn’t snort it.”
“No,” Yao said. “Not yet.” He looked at the sleeping Leon. “I was thinking.. of just- throwing it actually.”
Arthur looked at Leon too, then back at Yao. “Okay. Let’s toss it then.”
“Okay,” breathed Yao. “So- are we.. we going to.. get married again? Because I-“
“No,” Arthur said.
Yao flared up. “Oh come on, last night-“
“Let’s date again, first.”
Okay.. that wasn’t a terrible idea. They hadn’t really dated before marriage, not really - they had mostly just fucked and clubbed and did drugs together. Their honeymoons had mostly been sex too. Dating was.. something that neither of them really participated in. Yao had never found the appeal of hanging out with a hot man without sex or drugs.
But he could, with Arthur. Maybe. He was sure they’d done it before.
Yao bit his lip, looking down. “Where?”
“Central Park and ice cream? Later? When the prince wakes up,” Arthur said, poking at Leon’s chubby cheek.
The Chinese man stared at him, his eyes shining. For the first time in a while, he felt strangely hopeful. “…yeah, that sounds nice.”