Beneath the Surface

Part 4

The room was dimly lit, with the golden glow of the setting sun filtering through the half-closed blinds, casting long shadows across the walls. Yok sat on the edge of his unmade bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, his skin still damp from the hot shower he had just taken. His hair was dripping wet, strands sticking to his forehead and neck as he lazily dragged a towel over it, barely making an effort to dry it properly. His body moved slowly, as if weighed down by an invisible force, the towel occasionally falling limp in his hand as he stared off into the quiet, cluttered space.

The room itself was a mess—clothes scattered across the floor, sketchbooks and half-empty paint tubes strewn about, and canvases leaning haphazardly against the walls, some half-finished, others painted over in frustration. On one wall, a large, chaotic graffiti piece splashed with vibrant colors stood out, a stark contrast to the otherwise disorganized space. The mattress lay directly on the floor, rumpled sheets spilling over the edges.

Yok tossed the towel aside, running his fingers through his hair. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his gaze unfocused. In the stillness, an image crept into his mind.

**Longtai.**

He blinked, trying to shake the thought away, but it lingered—persistent. He could see Longtai clearly, walking ahead of him, just like in the bookstore. His long, slightly messy hair swaying gently with each step, the pale nape of his neck exposed beneath the dark strands. Yok’s brow furrowed as the image of Longtai’s back became clearer, his slender frame hidden beneath an oversized shirt that seemed too big for him. The way his shoulders moved, so delicate, almost fragile.

Yok bit his lip, his fingers twitching as if they were itching to move. He imagined tracing a line down the back of Longtai’s neck, over the soft skin where the hair met his collar. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he visualized the curve, the way the light would fall on that spot. The thin frame, the way Longtai’s shirt draped over his body—it was all so vivid in Yok’s mind.

Without thinking, Yok threw himself back onto the bed, tossing the towel aside. He reached for his sketchbook, flipping it open to a fresh page. His fingers moved on instinct, grabbing a pencil from the nightstand, and he began sketching.

His hand moved swiftly, fluidly, as if it had a mind of its own. The pencil traced the delicate curve of a neck, the slope of a shoulder, the soft lines of hair falling around it. Yok’s strokes were bold but precise, capturing the image of Longtai’s back that had burned itself into his thoughts. His eyes flicked back and forth from the paper to the mental image, his brow furrowing in deep concentration as the form took shape on the page.

He sketched the hair first—loose, soft, and slightly messy—before his pencil moved lower, outlining the narrow shoulders and the oversized shirt that hung loosely on Longtai’s body. The more he drew, the more vivid the image became in his mind. The thin fabric of the shirt clinging just barely to the outline of Longtai’s frame, the way it dipped at the back, revealing the graceful curve of his spine.

Yok paused, his pencil hovering over the paper as his breath caught in his throat. He stared at the half-finished drawing, his mind racing. What the hell am I doing? He blinked down at the sketch, realizing just how intensely he had been focusing on Longtai’s back, his neck, his shoulders.

His chest tightened as he leaned back, tossing the pencil onto the bed beside him. He stared up at the ceiling, his sketchbook resting on his chest. He let out a deep, frustrated sigh, his fingers brushing against his forehead as if trying to clear away the thoughts that were swarming in his mind.

Why can’t I stop thinking about him?

His mind replayed the scene in the bookstore—Longtai’s soft smile, the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, the gentle way he spoke, almost too shy to hold eye contact. Yok groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes, trying to block out the mental images.