Chapter Text
Yao set down his teacup. The relentless ticking of the wall clock reminded him it was time to meet the patron, Vittorio Vargas, who had lent a priceless family heirloom to the museum’s upcoming blockbuster, The Ancient Empires: East Meets West. This exhibit was not merely another showcase. It promised to vault his career from a regular curator to a coveted high-ranking position among the museum world’s elite.
Vittorio Vargas. The name stirred a memory. He had known a Vargas before, but it was a common name. Yao could not be sure whether this Vargas was connected to the Vargas he once knew.
Stepping into the meeting room, Yao found only a lone suitcase resting on a chair. Beyond the glass wall, the corridor was empty. There was no sign of any elderly gentleman fitting the description. Just as he reached for his phone to contact Kiku, a voice called out from behind.
“Yao? Yao Wang?”
The voice was startlingly familiar, one he had not heard in years. Yao turned slowly. Standing in the doorway were a pair of brown eyes that made his heart skip.
The man was in his thirties, with tousled hair crowned by two gravity-defying cowlicks. His tailored suit projected confidence and refined. A coffee cup rested in his grip, releasing a faint bitterness of espresso through its lid.
“It’s really you!” the man exclaimed.
“Your hair is longer. Other than that, time has barely touched you.”
Yao twisted his lips uncertainly.
“Romulus…?”
His eyes roamed over the man from head to toe, noting his rugged features.
“You look… old.”
Romulus stood there with an indiscernible expression.
“No. I mean, you’ve matured. Not like the twenty-one-year-old boy I last remembered,” Yao quickly added.
A rueful smile broke across Romulus’s face. “Oh yes, thirteen years have passed. Time shows no mercy.”
Yao frowned, struggling to place the situation. “Why are you here?”
Romulus strode past, placing his coffee on the meeting room table, then straightened his jacket with poised formality.
“I am Romulus Vargas, here on behalf of my late grandfather, Vittorio Vargas, to oversee the Hercules Knot for The Ancient Empires: East Meets West exhibition.”
***
Yao called in his assistant curator, Kiku Honda, and introduced him to Romulus. He explained that Vittorio Vargas had died a month ago. According to his will, the heirloom must be displayed at the event before it passes to Romulus, who was there to honor his grandfather’s final wish.
“My condolences, Mr. Vargas,” Kiku said, bowing respectfully.
“Just Romulus,” he replied with a relaxed wave. “You’re Yao’s friend, so you’re mine too.”
Yao’s expression softened. Romulus’s easygoing nature had not changed at all.
Entrusting Kiku to lead Romulus on a museum tour, Yao promised to join them after his conference call. The two men wandered through the halls, admiring artifacts from Japan to the Middle East, each piece echoing tales of vanished empires. An hour later, they took a break in Kiku’s office.
Kiku handed Romulus a steaming mug of tea. “How do you know Yao?”
“We met at university here in the city. Both shared a deep passion for history. Yao was a bit reserved at first, but I coaxed him out of his shell. We became close friends.”
Romulus turned the mug in his hands, studying the cartoon kitten with its sly grin and red ribbon. Its design was far from the usual aesthetic. “This is… uh… unique.”
Kiku snorted. “Yao’s idea. He’s obsessed with these Kitty-chan mugs, and he insisted I use them. I only keep them for guests. Glad you think it’s weird too.”
“Yao’s got his quirks,” Romulus laughed, and his attention shifted to a crooked photo on the wall. A punk-styled youth with green eyes and thick brows flashed a defiant gesture beside a blonde man with chin stubble, wearing a pink dress, lips pursed for a kiss.
“Interns’ farewell party,” Kiku said, following his gaze.
Romulus grinned. “Your interns sure know how to have fun.”
He spotted another photo and nearly choked on his tea. Kiku, topless except for a bowtie and bunny ears, posed beside a platinum blonde girl whose glare could slice diamonds. A broad-shouldered man with a boyish face had his arm around a shy girl with flushed cheeks, her black hair tied in low twin tails adorned with flowers.
Romulus squinted. “Is that… Yao?”
Before Kiku could answer, Yao’s voice burst from the doorway.
“Kiku! Why is that photo still up? It’s humiliating!”
Yao stormed in, cheeks blazing, hands flying to cover the frame.
“It’s a good memory,” Kiku replied in a monotone voice.
Romulus shook his head, mischief dancing in his eyes. “No, no, Yao. Kiku looks great with those bunny ears, and you? You’ve got a real talent for pulling off a dress.”
“Not my idea! Ivan insisted. I just… went along.”
Kiku set his mug down and noted, “Ivan and his sister Natalia were visiting scholars from Russia. He and Yao got along well, so Yao humored his wish.”
“You looked cuter than most girls,” Romulus teased, smirking. “Bet Ivan could not take his eyes off you.”
A flush of embarrassment and something gentler warmed Yao. He pushed it aside and declared, “Enough. We have work to do.”
Sitting down, he opened his notebook and launched into a crisp summary.
“The exhibition opens the day before Christmas Eve. It’s a charity fundraiser featuring rare collections: private loans, treasures you won’t find anywhere else. We’re expecting visitors from all over the world.”
Yao lifted his chin toward Romulus. “Your Hercules Knot is the centerpiece. Please share its story. The stronger our understanding, the better our presentation.”
“It was my great-grandfather’s gift to my great-grandmother. He bought it when his business took off as a thank you for her sacrifices. She risked everything to get him out of a war camp.”
Romulus leaned back in his chair, speaking in a professional tone. “The Hercules Knot, a belt-shaped ornament forged around 2 BCE from solid gold, gleaming with rubies and emeralds, symbolized strength and protection in Hellenistic times. In Roman weddings, the bride tied it around her waist, to be undone only by the groom, representing their unbreakable bond of love and fidelity.”
Steam rose from the mug in his hand, grassy and fresh as he went on. “My grandfather wanted it here because this neighborhood was his mother’s birthplace.”
Kiku stopped scribbling, his face lighting up with inspiration. “It reminds me of the Eastern red string of fate, binding destined lovers no matter the distance.”
Romulus chuckled dryly. “Funny how people everywhere are so eager to tie themselves down. What brings joy in love can sometimes feel like a strain.”
“It’s human nature to seek connection,” Kiku expressed his opinion. “To weave bonds that anchor us through life’s storms. That longing runs through every culture.”
“It’s the perfect theme. Different cultures, same truth. We should make that shared longing the focus of the exhibition’s promotion.” Yao closed his notebook with a decisive snap, signaling the end of their talk.
“No objection here,” Romulus raised his mug in a playful salute. “I trust your expertise. You’re the star student. I’m just scraping by.”
Yao gave him a pointed look. “You’d have been top of the class if you spent less time flirting and more time studying.”
Romulus clutched his chest as if offended.“Yao, you wound me. I was… distracted. But my charm kept study groups lively, right?” He winked.
Though his lips hinted at a smile, Yao couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
Kiku hid behind his mug, entertained by their back-and-forth exchange.
***
The hot shower melted Yao’s exhaustion with heat seeping into tense muscles. Since Romulus had returned, Yao had been pulling long hours at the museum, collaborating on the upcoming exhibition. He’d anticipated the carefree Romulus, laid-back, allergic to responsibility. Instead, a sharp-eyed art dealer had arrived: demanding and precise, shaped by years of catering to wealthy clients who required perfection.
Yao was towel-drying his hair when the doorbell rang. Puzzled, he padded to the door and found Romulus, a backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Romulus?” He examined the man at the porch. “What brings you here this late?”
“I flooded my flat.”
Yao blinked in disbelief.
“Had some friends over for a wine tasting. One got drunk, tried washing a glass in the toilet, and flushed it. Long story short—the toilet broke, flooded the place, ruined the carpet,” Romulus sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. “Can I crash here tonight? I’ll find a hotel tomorrow.”
Yao did not even question the absurdity. It was classic Romulus, diving into catastrophes as long as alcohol flowed. He fancied himself Dionysus reborn, though Yao saw only a grown man with the impulsiveness of a six-year-old, staggering through endless jaw-dropping idiocy.
He stifled a snicker and stepped aside. “Only you could turn a wine tasting into a disaster. Come in.”
Romulus did not move.
The oversized long sleeve T-shirt had slipped off one shoulder, revealing smooth, faintly luminous skin. Damp long hair curled at Yao’s neck, the faint scent of soap still clinging to him. With soft features and wide amber eyes, the look was almost delicate. It was hard not to stare.
Yao felt his ear tips burning as he yanked the shirt back into place.
“Get inside before I change my mind!”
Romulus hurried in, dropping his backpack on the couch. His eyes landed on a Kitty cushion, its eerie grin mocking his latest screw-up. Yao brought out tea before settling down beside him.
“Thank you, Yao,” Romulus uttered with rare sincerity. “You’re as kind as you were at university.”
“Yeah, sure,” Yao drawled, his words sharp with sarcasm. “You disappeared. Thirteen years without a word. No goodbye. What a fine way to treat a kind friend.”
Romulus looked like he had been slapped in the face. He slouched slightly and grimaced.
“I’m so sorry. A family crisis struck. I had to leave with no time to explain. I never meant to hurt you.”
He stared at his tea for a while before speaking again.
“You were always there. Listening to my nonsense. Sharing your notes. Dragging me back to the dorm when I partied too hard. You mattered more than I ever said.”
The feeling of abandonment resurged. Yao wanted to snap, to cut Romulus with words as sharp as the hurt he had carried. Yet the man’s apology, his posture laden with remorse, dulled the edge of his fury.
Romulus had been his first friend at university, welcoming him when he arrived alone from China, far from everything he knew. When others made fun of Yao’s childish looks, leaving him self-conscious, Romulus just brushed it off, saying “You’re fine by me,” and looked out for him. He had been there from the start.
His absence had left Yao probing their bond, but the apology had brought him halfway to forgiveness.
“I’ve only got a spare futon,” Yao said. “The couch is too small for you.”
He set up the futon, and they exchanged goodnights. That night, Yao tossed and turned, his mind flitting between past and present.
The next morning, he woke to find Romulus already up, scrolling through his phone.
Yao filled the kitchen with the aroma of scrambled eggs, buns, and tea. As he set the last of the food on the table, he waved a packet of instant coffee at his friend. “I only have this. You probably need it to function.”
Romulus nodded gratefully. They ate breakfast in silence. He seemed troubled as he searched for a hotel room.
“It’s peak season,” Yao remarked between bites. “Finding a room on weekends is nearly impossible.”
“Maybe I’ll try outside the city center,” Romulus mused.
Having noticed the apprehension in Romulus, he tried not to seem overly forward as he made an offhand offer.
“If you like, you can stay here until your flat is fixed. Living too far out is inconvenient for work.”
“Is that okay?” Romulus asked hesitantly. “Won’t it be awkward having someone stay overnight?”
Yao blushed. “I don’t have visitors or a partner, so no worries.”
“Thanks!” Romulus beamed, already halfway through a bun. “I’ll pay rent, and this,” he held up the half-eaten bun like a trophy, “is better than anything I’ve had at a five-star place!”
Yao felt his heart tripping over the praise.
In the days that followed, they fell into a routine, sharing breakfast, commuting to work, and returning for dinner. Romulus offered to cook, but his repertoire was limited to pizza and pasta. Yao politely declined and took charge in the kitchen.
Their daily life buzzed with petty spats. Yao nagged Romulus for burying the couch in laundry. Romulus whined about the garbage pile. Yao fumed when Romulus messed up his feng shui setup. The squabbles even followed them to the grocery store.
Whenever Yao spotted a sale, he raided the aisles like a pirate, crowing, “No deal this good gets left behind!” Romulus, buried under a mountain of bags, could only groan, “Are you stocking up for the end of the world? I’m not your human mule!”