Han Li was drowning.
It was inevitable; being locked in Graham’s penthouse for two(two!) whole days. That equated to a hell of a lot of homework and lectures and stupid art projects to catch up with. He was reduced to a soulless husk; a mere echo of his former self, dragging his feet to school like some sort of ghoul.
Three hours of sleep wasn’t healthy and he had no idea how he managed back in the day. Back then he had gone on missions without any sleep at all, willingly throwing himself into battle when his muscles ached with fatigue.
Must have been age. Han Li, 19 years, was getting heckin’ old. Yup, totally.
He grumbled, with face planted into his desk, unwilling to rise to look at the ugly drawing he had pinned under his arms. The nude model had long left, and they, the students, were meant to spend the rest of the studio time incorporating the procured sketches in some collage. Or something, something…something? What was the assignment again?
Han Li wanted to use the time to sleep instead. He was exhausted, dammit.
With the end of the period drawing near, it meant that other studio classes were in their ending phase as well, students growing restless began to meander around different classes. It was no surprise that Simone came barging in to harass him.
Violent shaking drew him out of his half-assed slumber along with the siren-like sound of Simone’s voice, “Wake up, Li Han!”
“It’s Han Li!” he roared and flailed clumsily, only to fall back down into a boneless heap on his desk. Seriously, Han Li just wanted some sweet, sweet shuteye.
Students milled around them, the semblance of class time had long dispersed. Most art students had the attention span of a goldfish and couldn’t stay focused on their projects for more than three minutes at a time.
Simone was uncharacteristically quiet and when Han Li made note of this, he felt creeping discomfort tickling his brain. He carefully peeked out of an eye, spotting her watchful gaze bear down at him. While this was prime time to poke fun at him, Simone spoke with concern instead, “You okay?”
Well, Han Li was as much of a mental mess as ever but that wasn’t new. Most of his wounds have healed, leaving shallow cuts and insignificant bruises. His muscles still ached but Han Li was mostly, “Fine. It’s fine.” He smiled sheepishly at her, still embarrassed by his impromptu actions on that fateful night when he abandoned them to rush into the fray.
Simone’s lips pulled into a straight line. There was pointed skepticism in her face and she decided to test her theory by slapping hard down on Han Li’s back.
Slap!
Han Li yelped, springing up from his seated position like a cat who just got doused. Eyes around the studio veered towards them, mostly judgmental or curious. “What was that for!?”
“Huh?” She blinked, completely unapologetic, “Looks like you’re fine and peachy.”
“This is abuse,” Han Li deadpanned, “Friend abuse. I’m going to call the authorities on you one day, I swear.”
Simone rolled her eyes and shrugged, “Good to see that you’re all patched up. Anyways since you’re all better now, Kevy boy and I are going out for Union Day. The festival is happening on the main avenue, heard they’re doing some night parade or something. You’re coming!”
Han Li stared, stupefied. “Is this supposed to be an invitation?”
“Well, did I say the word ‘invite’?” she deadpanned.
“No.”
“Then you have your answer.”
Han Li wondered if there’s a way to refund a friend. He’d really like a refund, please and thank you.
…
The truth was, Han Li couldn’t really afford to go out on Union Day. His time was divided and his mind was weary and it had everything to do with one Graham Astley and not much to do with school.
That was the sincere truth that he was doing his utmost to ignore.
His utmost included coming home late from the studio and watching anime into the night with his sketchbook open in front of him. His pencil twirled in his hand, making minimal to no contact with the paper. He was super comfortable in his beanbag and felt like he was melded in place, his bed too far away so of course sleep wasn’t an option.
It was only midnight so he still had a few hours left for procrastination and the show was reaching its climax, and albeit mediocre, Han Li was invested.
But right as the main character was about to slay the Big Bad, his phone(a brand new one of the latest model, with the highest specs, courtesy of one Graham Astley) flashed on the coffee table and Han Li made the mistake of looking down.
‘Assholey’ flashed obnoxiously at him and the message beneath read:
[ Do you happen to have a bit of time tonight? ]
No, he didn’t. And yet Han Li was biting his bottom lip, hesitantly reaching for the phone with uncertainty.
His feelings towards Graham were…mixed.
And yet he found himself thinking about the man almost obsessively; from his gentleness to his cold apathy, his compassion and his austerity. Han Li had yet to fully understand the true nature of the Saint of Eternity but there was one thing he knew for certain.
Graham Astley was mysterious and magnetic and Han Li couldn’t stay away. As he was busy fumbling with his thoughts a new message appeared.
[ If you’ve time, please open the door. I’m here. ]
Han Li cursed, springing to his feet. Curses tumbled out of his lips as he rushed to the door, unthinking.
Behind him, the protagonist of a subpar anime roared his victory speech but Han Li had long forgotten about it as he tiptoed towards the door. But he didn’t need to look through the peephole to know what, or who was on the other side.
Fuck. Han Li tentatively reached for the door handle and a part of him was blaring in his mind.
This is a bad idea.
Don’t do it.
And yet he was already turning the lock like an idiot.
Graham wore a fitted turtleneck, his wavy hair, slightly fluffy, was combed to the side and Han Li was trying his best to ignore the fact that the man in front of him was stupidly gorgeous and ridiculously sexy. By all means, Han Li should be immune to his charms already, dammit!
“What are you doing here?” What had meant to be a curt question came out soft and Han Li was already stepping aside to let Graham in.
“Pardon the intrusion,” Graham walked in and Han Li was praying to the great expanse of heaven and the divine to grant him strength to not look down and check out the way Graham’s fitted pants fell around his behind.
He wasn’t Simone, dammit!
Han Li gulped and closed the door, listening to the deep melodic lull of Graham’s voice, “I came to return something to you.”
“Huh?”
Graham stopped in the middle of his living room, his gaze wandering towards the TV screen, where the ending credits played and strange boob physics jiggled across the screen. Han Li couldn’t fathom what was going through the man’s head as he quietly observed the animations.
“This.” Graham reached into his pocket and pulled something out, all the while his eyes remained glued to the screen. It was only when the credits ended that he finally veered his gaze back to Han Li, with an expression stoic and impossible to discern.
“…?” Han Li held out his palm. A small metallic thing dropped onto his skin, where it burned and caused him to hiss. But when he looked at it, the shimmering sapphire tugged at his memories. Han Li beamed, bringing the silver ring to his face to confirm its legitimacy. “Oh!,” he chirped, “How did you manage to find it?”
It was the ring that Graham had first gifted him. The one that Han Li carelessly threw away in the heat of battle. He had been so careless back then, so thoughtless. And though it was just a relic like any other, an amulet doomed to crumble under his care, Han Li secretly felt attached to it. It was Graham’s first gift to him, after all.
“…It took a bit of effort but I was able to reclaim it.” Graham’s countenance told of indifference. Han Li must have been imagining the softness there. “But this relic will not last under your abounding demonic strength. I have arranged with an artificer and diviner to properly customize it to suit your nature. Though they have been woefully difficult to deal with, I managed to secure a schedule with my preferred master craftsmen.”
Han Li’s eyes widened before he paled, “Customize…” He clutched the ring to his chest, mind going dizzy as the thought. “I don’t have the money to customize a magical artifact!”
Graham lifted a brow. Han Li swore there was a smirk on those tantalizing lips. “But I do.”
The sound that left Han Li’s lips was more akin to gibberish than human speech.
He was, quite frankly, speechless.
But should he be surprised?
No. No, he really shouldn’t be.
