─═ڿڰۣڿ♚ڿڰۣڿ═─♥︎─═ڿڰۣڿ♚ڿڰۣڿ═─

Without really thinking, Ling turned around and exited the way he'd come before Xavier even noticed him standing there. In retrospect, perhaps he could've caused a scene, or kneed him in the balls — Ling doubted anyone in that gym would've dared lay an offensive hand on someone half their size — but everything quickly became a numb blur as he drifted to the sidewalk and called Wyatt.

"Hey Ling Ge, what's up? You done with the shoot? Or are you going to Xavier's?"

Ling bit back either a snort or a sniffle, he wasn't sure which. "Ah, no, not today," he said evenly, casually. "But yeah, the session's finished. I got cookies from it. Wyatt, if you're home, would you mind picking me up from the juice bar?"

"Sure, I'll be there in fifteen. And save half the cookies for me, yeah?"

"You can have them all."

Wyatt arrived soon and drove them back home, Ling staring absently out at the town setting. Still, he tried his best to keep a neutral and casual demeanour, not wanting to ruin his bubbly friend's night. Along with some uni friends, he was going to some new club, though if Ling told him what happened, Wyatt would probably stay with him out of guilt.

When they got home, Ling went straight to his little work space, consisting of a long work bench, tidy paper piles, a large tropical fish tank and a dozen or so pot plants to offset the spartan, exposed brick décor. If he just continued burying himself in scetching to designs, he could pretend nothing had happened until tomorrow, and mentally work through it then.

Wyatt happily tore open the plastic wrapping and grabbed a cookie. Well, at least Ling could hear the other man do so in the kitchen, assuming he was happy because Wyatt loved eating.

"Hey Ling, what you working on? The girlypop graphic ones?"

Ling answered as Wyatt walked over, not taking his eyes off the notepad, "Yeah, I want the entire hoodie to have the pinkcore graffiti aesthetic thing going."

"They'll go great with the Cherry Soul line," remarked his friend, peering over Ling's hunched shoulder.

A few hours later, Wyatt returned to the workspace to show Ling his outfit for the club.

"Dude, you're still here? You've literally been working all day. Take a break."

Ling looked Wyatt up and down. Sequins, ass-hugging, purple ripped jeans exposing under layers of fishnet, multiple necklaces and chains and glowy bronze highlighter, the younger man looked like the most flamboyantly androgynous gay man Ling had ever met. His actually quite masculine, completely heterosexual friend enjoyed this little game. Excellent at pool, card games, or basically any other betting game – including a high alcohol tolerance – Wyatt was incredibly skilled at hustling people who took one look at his sassy and effeminate vibes, and thought they could take him.

It was kind of a dick move sometimes, and he loved that about Wyatt.

"I don't know Atti, looks kinda gay," noted Ling.

Wyatt flicked imaginary long locks back. "Thanks babe—" he returned to his normal, lower registering tone. "—but speaking of gay, you should come. Lana, Daniel, and Logan were asking about it."

Ling really wasn't in the party headspace right now and was about to kindly decline, but Wyatt spoke up again.

"Don't worry. It won't be like last time with Daniel, he knows you've got a boyfriend. He feels really bad about it now and asked me to apologise because he's a pussy. And I really want you to come. We hardly ever do anything lately together, unless it's for work, or I'm dropping you off at one of your other jobs."

Ling swallowed some sour emotion at the word boyfriend. Maybe the club wasn't such a bad idea? And he'd be going with a group. Ling was still ambivalent about whether he should go when his phone buzzed. The notification that popped up showed it was a text from Xavier. Ling put his phone on silent. Screw it.

"Sure. I take it I don't have much time?"

"Half-an-hour." Wyatt grabbed him in a giant bear hug from behind. "You're such a hermit, dude. The only time you've been going out for social shit is with Xavier. Seriously, remember when it poured and stormed for three days straight and you didn't even realise? I can't believe you don't need glasses yet, from all the staring at your designs for hours."

"Wow Atti, don't give me too many compliments at once I might cry...or faint from the lack of oxygen," he quipped, gasping the latter half out as Wyatt was stronger than he looked and the hug was crushing Ling's hermit lungs. With Xavier though, even most of their time spent together was at the other's place. Or at the cinema.

Wyatt let go and smiled with an apologetic glint. "It's not my fault you're 2D. When you turn sideways you go a little invisible. Here," Wyatt offered the last bit of his cookie, "have a cookie."

"Thanks but no. Before I get changed, are there any other little pep talks you want to give your dà gē who just saved your grades?"

"No, I think that's about it," concluded Wyatt cheerfully.

Ling went to his loft bedroom, deciding to put a bit more effort in than the sweater and varsity-style hoodie he was wearing.

✦

In the black Grand Jeep Wagoneer, the party had already started, though the fact that this beast of a car was almost as big as a house, Ling at least had plenty of personal space to glaze over as he ignored the five missed calls Xavier had left. Maybe silent wasn't enough and he should just turn the phone off.

He did.

"Holy shit!" Logan laughed almost manically as he sat back in the car going seventy-five miles an hour at night. He'd been leaning out to reach the road whilst Lana and Rigby held his waist. "I am an artist. Rigs, you get a photo?"

"Just...how?" asked Wyatt, his laughter slightly more controlled due to the fact he was driving.

Ling had to admit, spray painting a giant, cum-shooting penis on the tar in a fast-moving car was quite a feat. He was impressed.

"Artistic," repeated a confident Logan.

"More like autistic," snorted Lana.

Logan brushed her off like some peasant, leaned back and draped an arm over Ling. "LZ, as a professional artist, what's the take?"

Rigby passed his phone back, allowing Ling a better visual of the creative artwork. "...I think it is a truly unique and daring endeavour. Especially the ten-metre shaft that zigzagged when we hit a pothole, giving the visual of Harry Potter's scar."

"Bro that's a vein," cracked Rigby, the varsity footballer sweeping lank, auburn strands out of his eyes.

The artist in question, or the scholarship footballer, said, "Nah man, I like LZ's better: Harry," he continued in his best Hagrid imitation, "yer're a cock."

"I'm a what?" replied Ling in his best pre-pubescent British tone. Okay, he couldn't help it, he laughed along with the others. Logan could be a fucking idiot, though he was a kind and funny one. Ling had met Wyatt's uni friends several times, though Logan – who at first gave off major frat boy vibes – was actually far more quiet and thoughtful than Ling had thought. Unless he'd been drinking and had spray paint.

After an hour, the six finally arrived at the club, just on the other side of the curfew's border. The expansive, dark, geometric building offered underground parking, and they parked on the second sub-level.

Ling's hair and makeup had already been done at the studio using the cosmetics he'd been paid to model, so all he'd done was part his fluffy fringe, straighten it with some high tech tap water, and donned the first fancy-ish thing he saw. The loose-thread, beige lace sweater thing worked just fine so he'd also thrown on some black leather pants and silver western boots. He was vain enough not to look like a complete layer-covered hermit outside. Most of the time.

Ling let everyone else walk in front of him as they spoke enthusiastically about this new place, which was clearly packed. For some reason though, lines didn't appear to be an issue. There must have been multiple entry points and the group was quickly let in after a simple scan of their IDs. They took the vintage elevator down rather than the long descending ramp beside it, faint music from the club echoing up.

The place was a monochrome fever dream; as if film noir had jumped out of the TV and decorated itself around a nightclub. The flashing lights and pulsating glow converted everyone to greyscale. All the different levels were packed with partiers, and Ling's senses were attacked on all fronts. None of it was bad, just a lot at once. The smell of booze, perfume, and an underlying one of campfire smoke and incense all mixed together as Logan led them over to the wall-lining bar.

If the Empire State Building had come with a nightclub, this is what Ling imagined it'd look like. A circular beam chandelier even lowered to create a small pole-dancing stage.

"Damn," Wyatt said over the retro trap music. "This place is insane. What'd you say it was called again, Lo?"

"Lonely Hearts," Logan answered, buying everyone the first round. It didn't take long for the group to get into it, and for Wyatt and Logan to spot a potential hustle. They looked at each other with a knowing smirk, Ling shaking his head at their shamelessness but still enjoying the potential show as the two friends split to act their parts.

"Those two are such con artists," scorned Lana, somewhat dampened by her grin.

Ling nearly choked on his drink at the dark-skinned girl's reaction, both of them sitting on one of the round oasis lounges surrounding the stage. They'd recently returned after getting more drinks, though Daniel and Rigby were still on the floor, or watching the WyLo duo win big.

"And Wyatt and I are doing really well financially too," added Ling. Yes, he also had a side hustle, as he would never take his business' success for granted, though those two must have just been a little evil.

What Ling at first thought was glitter fell from the ceiling like snowflakes, though he realised they were actually bits of edible silver leaf. That was also when he caught a glance of someone watching him from across the massive chamber. A falling leaf obscured Ling's slightly bleary vision for a moment, but in the next moment, that someone was gone.

─═ڿڰۣڿ♚ڿڰۣڿ═─♥︎─═ڿڰۣڿ♚ڿڰۣڿ═─

Yes I know I drew things out just a bit, but the two main characters meet next chapter.

Definitions:

dà gē = older brother, by a few years (this can be used by friends and not just kin)

Not that it matters, but this is the song that I was thinking of when I wrote the club scene:

https://youtu.be/APiVbaNo1ng

~ Daci