Part 2

It was one of those perfect sunny days, where the warmth of the sun touched everything, but the light breeze kept the air cool and comfortable. The university campus buzzed with life as students walked between buildings, chatting in small groups, their laughter mixing with the rustling of trees that lined the paths. Blossoms floated down from the branches, adding to the idyllic scene. The grassy lawns were dotted with students lounging with textbooks or engaged in light conversation, while the occasional cyclist weaved through the foot traffic with ease.

Inside one of the lecture halls, the atmosphere was more subdued, but there was still an energy that accompanied the start of a new day of learning. Sunlight poured in through the large windows, casting long golden stripes across the rows of desks. The professor stood at the front, her voice echoing slightly in the high-ceilinged room as she explained the day's lesson. Most of the students were focused, their eyes glued to the presentation slides or hurriedly scribbling notes.

At the back of the classroom, near the window, Yok sat slouched in his chair, his elbow propped on the desk, staring absentmindedly out the window. His cap was pulled low, and the sunlight just barely caught the edges of his golden skin. He had been in and out of focus all morning, his mind wandering far beyond the walls of the lecture hall.

Outside, a tall tree swayed gently in the breeze, its branches heavy with green leaves. Without realizing it, Yok had started to sketch. His fingers moved fluidly across the page, drawing the outline of the tree, its leaves, and its branches in quick strokes. He had always found comfort in sketching, the movement of the pencil against paper calming his restless thoughts.

But then, as he drew, a different image began to creep into his mind. The familiar lines of the tree shifted, his fingers moving more slowly now, deliberately. His mind conjured up a face-one he hadn't expected to think about. His pencil hesitated for just a moment before he began to trace the shape of an eye, the soft curve of a cheek, the delicate slope of lips. His strokes became more precise, each line creating a clearer image as his hand moved almost instinctively.

It was Longtai's face.

Yok's brow furrowed as he realized what he was doing, but his hand didn't stop. The half-complete tree on the page was now overtaken by a rough sketch of Longtai's half face, his almond-shaped eye staring back at him from the paper. The soft bangs that often hung over Longtai's forehead were captured with a few deft strokes, and the hint of a shy smile lingered in the curve of his lips.

Yok paused, his pencil hovering just above the page, his heart skipping a beat. Why was he drawing him? He hadn't meant to-his mind had just wandered, and suddenly Longtai's face had appeared so clearly, as if it had been waiting in the back of his mind all along.

Just as he was lost in thought, his quiet bubble was popped by the sound of his name.

"Yok?" The professor's voice rang out across the room, snapping him back to reality.

His head jerked up, and he quickly shoved the notebook away, covering the sketch with his arm. The entire class was staring at him, some students turning in their seats to see what had caught the professor's attention.

"Yok, can you answer the question I just asked?" the professor repeated, her tone a mix of irritation and expectation.

Yok blinked, his mind still foggy from the drawing. "Uh... sorry, what was the question again?" he mumbled, his voice low.

The professor sighed, clearly unimpressed. "I asked about the key themes of the text we're analyzing. Do you know what they are?"

Yok scrambled to think, but the only thing filling his mind was the image of Longtai's half-drawn face. He guessed blindly, "Uh... is it, like... relationships?"

A few students giggled quietly, and the professor gave him a disapproving look. "That's not exactly the answer I was looking for. Perhaps if you were paying more attention to the lecture and less to your drawings, you'd have a better idea."

Yok sat back in his chair, his face flushing slightly in embarrassment. The professor continued, "Please focus on the class, Yok. There's time to draw during your free time, not here."

With that, she moved on, resuming the lesson as if nothing had happened. Yok sank lower into his seat, feeling the weight of the stares around him slowly dissipate. He glanced down at the notebook he had hastily shoved aside. The edge of the paper peeked out, and he knew what lay underneath it.

Curious despite himself, Yok carefully lifted the corner of the notebook and peeked at the sketch. Longtai's face stared back at him, unfinished but unmistakably him. A strange tightness seized Yok's chest, and his mind raced with questions he couldn't answer. Why had he drawn him? Longtai was just a stranger who worked at a bookstore, someone he'd met only once. Why would his face keep returning to his mind, compelling him to capture it on paper?

With a soft huff, he snapped the notebook shut, pushing the thought away. It was just a random sketch, nothing more. He wasn't going to read into it.

Straightening up, Yok forced himself to focus on the lecture, his gaze directed at the professor though his mind still lingered on the half-drawn face in his notebook.

As the sunlight continued to filter through the window, illuminating the classroom, Yok's mind wandered once again-this time, not to the tree outside, but to the quiet, shy smile of Longtai.

-

The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the university's sprawling campus. After the class had ended, Yok made his way to the back of the campus, where students often gathered to smoke or escape the hustle and bustle of the main buildings. The air was cooler here, with the faint scent of blooming flowers mixing with the sharp tang of cigarette smoke.

Yok leaned against the brick wall, pulling a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. The familiar weight of the cigarette between his fingers was comforting as he lit it and inhaled deeply, the smoky flavor filling his lungs. As the smoke billowed out, he felt the tension from the day begin to ease, though his mind was still caught on the strange drawing from earlier in class.

Nearby, three figures stood close to him, each with their own cigarettes in hand. One of them was Gram, a guy with a short, messy haircut that looked like he'd hacked it off himself with a pair of scissors. He wore a blue button-up shirt over a plain white tee, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and black pants. His cigarette dangled loosely from his lips as he spoke, his voice muffled slightly by the smoke.

"You see the news this morning?" Gram asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he spoke. His tone was casual, but there was an edge of frustration in his voice. "That asshole, Nishan Patil, just signed off on another law. This one's about cutting public housing budgets. Said it was to 'streamline resources,' but we all know what that means."

Yok glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow but remaining silent. He wasn't surprised by Gram's frustration-he had heard that name a lot lately. Nishan Patil was a well-known politician, a man with deep pockets and even deeper connections. His family had old money, and he'd built his entire campaign on promises of "reforming" the city, which usually meant cutting resources for the poor and lining the pockets of the wealthy.

Gram took another drag from his cigarette, shaking his head. "It's just another move to screw over people who can't afford to fight back."

Standing beside him was Sean, who was the same height as Yok but had a more intimidating presence. His short hair was slicked back, and he wore a black leather jacket that creaked as he shifted his weight. Sean's jaw was tight as he spoke, the cigarette held between his fingers like he was ready to snap it in half. "It's bullshit, man," he said, his voice low and angry. "These rich politicians-they have their hands in everything. They've got so much power and money that they can just do whatever the hell they want, and no one can stop them."

Yok took a long drag on his cigarette, his eyes narrowing slightly as he listened. He wasn't one to get worked up over politics, but he understood the anger. It was hard not to, living in a world where people like Patil seemed to control everything.

"They don't give a damn about regular people," Sean continued, his voice growing louder with each word. "They pass these laws that crush the poor, raise rents, cut jobs, and then they sit in their mansions pretending like they're 'helping the economy.'" He spat the word out like it was venom.

Yok finally spoke, his voice calm but thoughtful. "It's all connections. Patil's got friends in the banking world, in real estate. It's not about the people. It's about making sure the right people stay rich."

Sean nodded, his face tightening in anger. "And if anyone tries to stand up to them, they get shut down. They've got their claws in everything, man. The media, the cops, even the courts. It's like there's no way to fight back."

Gram flicked the ash from his cigarette onto the ground, sighing. "If only there was something we could do. Something real. But what the hell can we do? We don't have money, we don't have power."

Yok leaned back against the wall, blowing a stream of smoke into the cool air. He had thought about this before. The world they lived in felt rigged, tilted in favor of those who were born into power and privilege. People like him, like Gram and Sean, were just scraping by, trying to survive in a system that didn't care about them.

"You ever think," Yok began slowly, his voice low, "that maybe it's not about money or power? That maybe the only way to fight back is to stop playing by their rules? They use money to control everything, right? But what if we find a way around that?"

Sean glanced at him, intrigued but skeptical. "What do you mean?"

Yok shrugged, taking another drag. "I don't know. But I've been thinking about it. Protests don't work because they control the media. Lawsuits don't work because they own the courts. So maybe the answer's not in fighting them directly. Maybe it's about building something outside their reach."

Gram laughed, though there was no real humor in it. "Like what? Some underground resistance?"

Yok didn't laugh. "Maybe. Or something like that. If we could find a way to build a network of people who aren't bought and paid for, who aren't afraid to go up against these guys, maybe we could do something."

Sean looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah, maybe. But it'd take a hell of a lot of guts."

"Yeah," Yok agreed quietly. "It would."

The three of them fell into a contemplative silence, the smoke from their cigarettes curling up into the air like ghosts. The world kept turning, and the rich kept getting richer, but here, in this small corner of the university, they felt the weight of it all pressing down on them. And though they didn't have the answers, they knew one thing for sure: the system was broken, and they were tired of living under its thumb.

Gram broke the silence, flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it underfoot. "Well, I've gotta head to my next class," he said with a sigh. "But if you come up with a way to take down Patil, let me know."

Yok gave him a nod, and Gram waved as he disappeared around the corner. Sean lingered for a moment, his brow still furrowed in thought.

"Yok, if you're serious about what you said," Sean muttered, "I'd be in. Just think about it."

Yok didn't say anything, just gave him a small nod as Sean tossed his cigarette away and walked off.

Left alone, Yok stared up at the sky, the last of his cigarette burning down between his fingers. His mind drifted back to the drawing of Longtai from earlier. He wondered what the quiet, thoughtful bookstore clerk would think of all this-of fighting against a system so much bigger than themselves. He crushed the cigarette under his boot, exhaling the last cloud of smoke before heading back to the campus, his thoughts still heavy, but now focused on something bigger.

~

The bookstore was quiet that afternoon, the soft glow of sunlight filtering in through the tall windows, casting warm patterns of light on the wooden floor. Longtai was in his element, lost in the world of books and stories. He moved quietly between the shelves, his slender fingers grazing the spines of the books as he rearranged them by category. His mind was elsewhere, floating between the pages of old novels and the verses of poetry he loved so much.

As he arranged a set of hardcovers, he hummed softly to himself, a habit he had picked up when he was alone. The melody was an old one, something his grandmother used to sing to him before bed. It was the kind of song that made him feel safe, grounded, even when everything else seemed uncertain. His voice was barely audible, but the words flowed easily:

_"In the fields where lilies grow,

The winds will sing, the rivers flow,

A gentle heart, with love untold,

Will guide you home as you grow old."_

He smiled to himself, remembering how he would beg his grandmother to sing for him every night. Her voice had been soft but full of warmth, and she would always give in, sitting beside him until he drifted off to sleep.

Longtai's humming continued as he reached for another book, carefully sliding it into place on the shelf. He didn't notice the doorbell ring at first, too absorbed in his task, but the familiar creak of the door opening drew his attention.

A voice, warm and teasing, interrupted his solitude. "There you are."

Longtai turned, startled but smiling as he saw who it was. Standing at the entrance, casually leaning against the doorframe, was Tian, his cousin and best friend. Tian was a few inches taller than Longtai, with a slight resemblance in their sharp features and almond-shaped eyes, though Tian's were a deeper shade of brown. He wore simple clothes-dark jeans and a loose gray sweater-but there was an air of ease about him, as if he belonged wherever he went.

"When did you get back?" Longtai asked, his smile widening. He hadn't seen Tian in weeks, and it was always a relief when he showed up out of the blue.

Tian smiled softly, his eyes bright with amusement. "Just now. Phupha had some work to take care of in the city, so I came along with him. Thought I'd stop by and see how my favorite cousin is doing."

Longtai rolled his eyes at the "favorite cousin" comment but couldn't help the smile that stayed on his face. "Well, you found me," he said, turning back to the shelf. "I'm just rearranging things. These books were all over the place."

Tian stepped closer, watching Longtai's methodical movements with interest. "You and your books," he said, shaking his head slightly. "You know, not everything needs to be in perfect order all the time."

Longtai paused, giving Tian a sidelong glance. "You say that now, but you'd be the first to complain if you couldn't find what you were looking for."

Tian chuckled, running a hand through his slightly messy hair. "Fair point. But seriously, it's good to see you. How have you been?"

"Busy, mostly," Longtai answered, continuing to arrange the books. "But good. The shop's been quiet, so I've had a lot of time to myself. You know how I like it."

Tian watched him for a moment before his expression softened. "I know you do. But, hey-have you thought any more about that photography class?"

Longtai stopped mid-motion, the book in his hand hovering just above the shelf. He had known this question was coming sooner or later. Tian had been gently pushing him toward it for months now, ever since Longtai finished high school. Tian always had this way of encouraging him, but without pressuring him too much. Still, Longtai wasn't sure he was ready.

"I've thought about it," Longtai said slowly, sliding the book into place and turning to face Tian. "But I don't know. I mean, it's a big step, right? Enrolling in university... taking a photography major... I don't know if I'm cut out for that."

Tian gave him a look, one that was both supportive and slightly exasperated. "You've been taking pictures for as long as I can remember, Longtai. And you're good at it. Better than good, actually. You've got an eye for detail that most people don't have. This university has a great photography program-probably one of the best in the area. You should go for it."

Longtai bit his lip, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I don't know if I'm ready. What if I'm not as good as you think I am? What if it's too much?"

Tian moved closer, his voice softening. "You're never going to know unless you try, Longtai. And you don't have to do it all at once. Take it one step at a time. Besides, you're done with high school now. You can't just hide in this bookstore forever, as much as you love it."

Longtai let out a small laugh at that. He knew Tian was right, but the thought of stepping outside his comfort zone-of putting himself out there-still made him uneasy. The bookstore was safe. Familiar. He wasn't sure he was ready to leave that behind.

"I'll think about it," Longtai finally said, his voice quieter now. "I'm just... not sure yet."

Tian smiled, understanding but persistent. "That's all I'm asking. Just think about it. I know you'll make the right choice when you're ready."

There was a pause between them, a comfortable silence that spoke of years of understanding. Tian reached out and placed a hand on Longtai's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"You've got more talent than you realize," Tian said softly. "Don't be afraid to let the world see it."

Longtai nodded, his heart warming at his cousin's words. He wasn't sure what the future held, but for now, he was grateful for Tian's support. The books on the shelves around him felt less like a fortress and more like a stepping stone, leading him toward something new.

"Thanks, Tian," Longtai said, his smile returning. "I'll keep it in mind."

Tian grinned, stepping back and shoving his hands into his pockets. "Good. Now, let's grab something to eat after you're done here. Phupha's meeting us later, and I'm starving."

Longtai chuckled, shaking his head as he went back to organizing the shelves. "Of course you are. You're always hungry."

With that, the two cousins fell back into easy conversation, the bookstore once again filled with the quiet sound of Longtai's humming and the warmth of Tian's presence beside him.

~

Yok's thoughts keep drifting back to Longtai, a stranger who's already left an imprint. Meanwhile, Longtai wrestles with doubts about his future. What is it about Longtai that's captivated Yok so deeply? And how will their paths collide next? 🎞️✨

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Love Yoon ~