Yao was free for today. Francois had gone upstate to visit one of his cousins who had passed away. They were reading the will. That's the only reason Francois went, afterall. It wasn't because someone he cared about passed away, it was because he might get a little money out of it. He'd probably weasel his way into more than he deserved, too.
But he didn't want to think about that asshole today. He looked through his contacts and stopped when he found "Lee Zheng," which was a fake name. It was actually Ivan, but if Francois took his phone, he would actually be able to explain that Lee Zheng was his cousin. It was far easier than explaining "Ivan" to him. He could definitely just text him, but calling was faster, so he clicked the little phone next to his name and put the phone to his ear. It rang four times until he picked up.
"Hello?"
"Uh, hi, Ivan. It's me. Yao."
"Da, I recognized your voice, Yao."
"Oh. Well, I was wondering, uh, if you were busy today?"
"I'm working, if that's what you mean. I wouldn't say I'm busy. Why?"
Yao paced around the living room. "No reason. I mean, if you're busy it's fine."
"Would you like to come over? I'm working on something small today and I'd like it if you kept me company."
"I don't want to bother you, though."
Ivan laughed at that. "You could never bother me. Come over. I'll text you the address."
"Oh. Okay!" Yao grinned. "Do you want me to bring you anything? I'll probably stop and get coffee."
"If you could that would be great. I take it black. Thank you very much, Yao."
"Anytime, Ivan."
"Do svidaniya."
"Do- I mean, er, goodbye. Yeah." Yao heard Ivan chuckle again before hanging up. He still held the phone to his cheek though, half mortified at himself and half overjoyed. He slid his boots and coat on, ran outside, realized he forgot his keys, ran back in, grabbed his keys, and finally left with a smile playing at his lips.
Yao's eyebrows furrowed as his eyes scanned over the old building. It was an old warehouse covered in red brick and a bit of graffiti here and there, though it was clearly old because it was fading. There was a fence around the perimeter, too. Yao had to push a button to cross it. He was greeted by a bright, accented voice. Katyusha's voice.
"Name, please?"
He looked at the box curiously. "Uh, Yao? Yao Wang?" There was a giggle from the box and Katyusha said,
"You have to push the button to speak, Yao. I can see you though, so I'll go ahead and let you in." Yao blushed at his mistake. He was pretty sure that he was cursed to be awkward for the rest of his life. The gates finally opened and he stepped through them. They shut behind him much quicker than they had opened.
The inside of the building wasn't like anything Yao had ever seen. The entire thing was one big room with smoothed concrete floors which were just as stained with paint as the floor at the gallery. There were parts and machines and general industrialistic things everywhere he turned. There were all sorts of carousel horses. And not just horses, though. Giraffes, zebras, tigers, bears, etc., all for the carousels. The entire place smelled like burning metal, paint fumes, and fresh wood.
"Yao, over here," Ivan yelled from the left side of the building. His voice echoed through the entire room. Yao walked over to him slowly, taking in his surroundings. The closer he got to Ivan, the prettier things became. He was surrounded by vibrant horses and carriages. He reached up to touch one.
"Nyet! That one is still wet, Yao," Ivan said before he could touch the recently finished horse. Yao turned to watch Ivan, who was focusing now on a red thing held on a long metal stick in his gloved hands. He raised an eyebrow. "What is that?" Yao asked.
"This? This is a flower. It'll go behind this horses ear. They specifically wanted roses on this horse, so I've been making roses all day," he said, pressing the flower carefully to the horse. He was doing something to make it stay, but Yao couldn't tell what, exactly.
"What is it made of? Is it plastic or-"
"Glass, actually. This is just for their home, so it can be nicer."
"Oh. Here," Yao said, handing Ivan a cup of coffee. The taller man slid the gloves off of his hands and took the coffee. He drank about half of it in a few seconds. He wasn't a fan of the taste of coffee, but it was useful for energy, especially considering the fact that he had to stay all day and finish up two more horses.
"Thank you, Yao," he said, smiling. "So what's the lie today? You've managed to come see me."
Yao laughed nervously and sat on a wooden stool. "Francois had to go see his family upstate. He won't be back till late tonight." Yao took off his coat and tossed it onto a table closest to him. "I don't want to talk about him, though."
Ivan nodded understandingly. They were both silent for a moment until Yao spoke up again.
"So can you only make roses with the glass or can you make other flowers? Do you only make flowers?"
Ivan smiled at him again. "I can make other things, but I have to make flowers more than anything else. I can do most flowers."
"Can you do sunflowers?" Yao asked without thinking. He wasn't sure why he liked sunflowers so much. It was one of those things that was easy to pick as a favorite because you actually knew what it stood for. Sun. Flower. Sunflower. Simple, yet beautiful.
Ivan nodded, slid the gloves on, and grabbed the metal stick again. Yao leaned over his shoulder and watched as he crafted a small glass sunflower. It was about the size of Yao's palm when finished, but it was definitely still too hot to touch. Yao sat in the chair again, feeling somewhat disappointed in himself. "You're so good at things like this, Ivan. I could never do any of this. I'm lucky if I paint a wall correctly," Yao said. Ivan chuckled and shook his head. "That isn't true, Yao. Here, let me show you." Ivan walked over to the table covered in paints and picked up a small brush. He handed it to Yao along with a hand-sized jar of paint. Yao almost broke into a sweat over this.
"I wasn't joking, Ivan. I'm terrible. Please tell me you aren't going to make me paint any part of this horse," he said, his face turning bright red. He hadn't painted since high school, and even then he wasn't good.
Ivan stood behind Yao and pointed at the inside of a fake ear. "Just paint the inside with this colour. I promise it will be fine. And even if you mess up, I can just paint over it. But you won't mess up." Yao bit his lip and gripped the paintbrush, nearly snapping it in half. He dipped the tip of the brush into the pinkish-grey paint. He took a few deep breaths, in and out, in and out. He was surprised that Ivan wasn't making fun of him. The closer he brought the brush to the horse, the more his hand shook. Someone is paying for this and I'm going to ruin it, Yao thought.
He tried to get his hand to stop shaking for one moment so he could land one stroke, but before he could do it himself, Ivan's hand wrapped around his own and the brush. "There's no need to be nervous," Ivan said, steadying Yao's hand enough to allow him to paint the small area on the horse. Yao wasn't focusing on that, though. He was focusing on the body he could feel against his own and the soft, careful breaths in his ear. He wanted to lean back against Ivan. That was his first reaction. But he stopped himself just before his head was resting on Ivan's shoulder.
"Now just one more, and . . . there," Ivan said, practically moving Yao's hand for him. But Yao didn't mind at all. He was just happy that Ivan's hand was around his and he could hear his gentle voice. He wanted to stay like that forever. He felt sleepy, but a good kind of sleepy where everything was relaxing, soothing, and he was drifting off to somewhere better. He was brought back to reality when Ivan released his hand and put the paint and paintbrush away.
Yao didn't look away from the horse. He didn't even blink. He wanted this moment to last a bit longer even if he had to make it last himself. As he stood there he felt a hand on his right shoulder. Once he glanced over his shoulder and saw that nobody was there, he felt warm lips on his left cheek. He turned so quick he was sure he'd sprained his neck.
"Did you just . . . ?"
"Hm? No. That's crazy. I've been standing over here the whole time," Ivan said as seriously as possible. Yao pouted, a smile playing at his lips. He pushed Ivan playfully and sat on the stool again. "Well, jokes on you, Ivan, because I actually liked it," Yao said, grinning. Ivan raised an eyebrow at that and stood behind Yao with his arms crossed.
Yao almost turned around to see what Ivan was doing, almost, but he stopped when he felt a warm hand on the side of his neck and soft lips kissing from his cheek down to his jaw. He didn't speak. He was surprised he was even breathing. He shut his eyes and welcomed each kiss by tilting his head back, allowing Ivan to trail warm kisses down his neck. When he stopped, Yao opened his eyes to see that Ivan was in front of him now. Strong arms had lifted him from the stool and wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly.
It felt amazing to be held. It felt even better knowing that it was Ivan who was holding him. He threw his arms around Ivan's neck without a second thought. His face was flush against his warm shoulder. He smelled a lot like burnt toffee. Like burnt sugar, almost. But more like toffee than anything. Yao smiled and peppered Ivan's neck with kisses. "Thank you, Ivan," he said. He might have sounded stupid, but he felt like it was important to say 'thank you' for this. If Ivan knew how it lifted Yao's spirits to be held like this, he would understand.
Ivan, of course, despite what Yao thought, understood why the smaller man had thanked him. He smiled when he felt lips on his own neck. He was glad he'd invited Yao over; rather, he was glad Yao had called to see if he was busy.
"I really like you, Ivan. I don't care if you disagree with me, I think you're a great man," Yao said, holding onto Ivan tighter. Ivan pursed his lips, but knew better than to argue with that statement, so instead he said, "I like you, too, Yao." That was a lie.
He loved Yao. It wasn't as simple as just liking him. He wished he could have had the courage to tell him that, but he didn't want to scare him away. He wasn't sure if he was good at any of this. He'd never had to think about telling another man he'd loved him before. In a romantic sense, that is.
But he was holding him. He was holding the man he loved and his thin arms were resting on his shoulders. Yao wasn't looking at him like he was crazy for coming onto him like this. He rested his hand gently on the back of Yao's head and pulled away just slightly, so he could look at him, though he almost wished he hadn't.
Yao's brown eyes, normally peaceful and occasionally bright, were glossed over. The whites of his eyes were tinted pink along with the tips of his ears and his nose. Yao stifled a small cry and swallowed his tears, but not his pride. He couldn't cry in front of Ivan. He didn't want to seem weak or like his sadness was Ivans doing. He flashed a reassuring smile and aplogized over and over again to Ivan, who shook his head.
"You don't need to be sorry over something like this, Yao," he said with a little smile. That almost made it worse. He wasn't crying because he was sad, he was crying because he was so happy that there was someone in this world who could still look at him like he wasn't broken, like he wasn't a busted and bruised man. Ivan looked at him like he was the most pure, radiant thing this earth had to offer. Like he was worth more than he himself thought he was worth. When he was around him, he didn't feel like he was going to be thirty soon. He felt like he had just gotten out of school, like he was still eighteen. Like he hadn't even met Francois yet.
"Ivan, I . . . I . . . " Yao pressed a warm hand to Ivans cheek. He didn't know what he was doing or saying, but before he could hesitate any more, he leaned in and kissed him.
When Yao came home that night, he was smiling. He hadn't stopped smiling since he'd kissed Ivan. The world felt wonderful and glorious and he wished everyone could feel the way he felt at this very moment.
Yao took some takeout from the fridge and grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the drawer. This was really the best day he'd had in months. He ate, though quickly because he was so excited, then went to his room. It was best to be asleep before Francois came home.
Thinking of Francois made his stomach drop, but he had to be constantly aware at all times. He locked his door and undressed down to his underwear. Normally he wore clothes to bed, but he was too lazy to put more on. He looked at the scarf he'd thrown on the floor.
It was Ivans scarf, actually. He had said something about it being cold outside and he'd given him the scarf. It sounded casual, but it didn't seem casual when he wrapped it around Yao's neck. It seemed important, somehow. He picked it up again. It didn't belong on the floor with the rest of his clothes. As he sat on his bed, he wrapped the scarf around his forearm.
He didn't want to be weird, but the scarf smelled like Ivan, and it was comforting. He wanted to sleep with the scarf on. He curled up into a ball and cradled the arm that was wrapped in the scarf. He fell asleep that way, with a piece of Ivan next to him.
To Be Continued . . .
