Beneath the Surface

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?"