Black.

The absence of hue.

The absence of light.

The darkest achromatic color permeated Jongin’s dreams, away any radiance that had previously existed in his artistically brilliant mind.

He stared at his open sketchbook, the formerly pristine white pages filled with nonsensical scribbles and ink splotches.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t his work. Even a baby could create something better than this…rubbish.

Jongin slammed the book shut and threw down the ink pen in his hand onto the rectangular mahogany wood table, silently fuming at his inability to create anything decent. It had been five months since he had completed his last piece. Five frustrating, dull months. He felt like ripping out his hair at this point. His manager had almost given up hope on him as well after months of Jongin shutting himself in his apartment, refusing to meet any sponsors or museum curators.

“Jongin, I can’t believe you turned down a chance to showcase your artwork in a seasonal exhibit at the Louvre!” Yixing exclaimed in disbelief as he barged into the artist’s work room. The place was strewn with half-painted canvases tossed haphazardly to the side, the floor was littered with crumpled up balls of paper, and pencils and paintbrushes were scattered all over the room. It seemed like every time Yixing entered the artist’s work room, the place became messier and messier.

Jongin was sprawled on the wooden floor with a ripped up canvas next to him. “Shut it, Yixing. You know I don’t want to participate in these exhibitions anymore. I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”

“But, Jongin, this is the opportunity of a lifetime! Only the most renowned artists are invited to send in their work for a seasonal exhibit at the Louvre! Isn’t that why we came to Paris together? So you could reach your dream of being one of the best artists in the world?” Yixing continued adamantly. “This exhibit could open so many new doors for you!”

“Enough, Yixing!”

The manager limply dropped his hands to his side. He didn’t know what was wrong with Jongin nowadays. The young artist had been well on his way to taking over the art world. His artwork had won in competitions all around the globe, and there were countless of magazines that featured him and his art on the front cover. Commissions came flooding in continuously, since everyone wanted a creation from the prodigy of the century.

Kim Jongin was currently the it guy of the art world.

But lately, the artist had turned into a shut-in.

At first, he began refusing interviews. Yixing had been perplexed when Jongin made that request, but still politely declined those who wished to speak with Jongin for magazine articles and television shows since that was what the artist wanted. Even if he didn’t wholly agree with Jongin’s decision, Yixing still respected it since the artist knew what was best for himself. Then Jongin cancelled all of his upcoming showcases. Yixing was considerably upset about that, since those events were extremely important for exposing Jongin’s art to larger audiences and gathering sponsors who would finance his future projects. Not to mention, Yixing had spent weeks painstakingly scheduling and setting up those events, wanting only the best for his friend. And the final nail in the coffin was Jongin failing to produce any artwork he was satisfied with for the past few months. Either he finished a piece and then trashed it immediately or started one before tearing it apart soon after its inception.

“Jongin, I know you haven’t been feeling very inspired recently, but that doesn’t mean—”

“I said, enough, Yixing!”

Jongin felt bad for how he had been treating his manager and long-time friend lately. Yixing had given up everything back home to travel halfway across the world with the artist to Paris, because he truly believed in his friend’s abilities and vision. Yixing had nothing but pure faith in Jongin, yet the younger male was deflecting any aid that his manager was trying to provide him. Jongin didn’t mean to be so selfish and harsh, but Yixing didn’t understand why the artist was so closed-off from the world now.

Jongin couldn’t create anymore.

Everything that came to his mind was dreary, trite, and completely unlike his usual vibrant works. Everything was amateurish and un-befitting a world-class artist who was known for his mind-blowing, creative pieces. Everything lacked the bright spark that usually brought his art to life and made his work stand out amongst the thousands of drawings and paintings that graced the halls of museums and galleries.

His muse had left him. He no longer had a well of inspiration to draw from in his mind that was usually crammed to the brim with overflowing ideas. He was…empty.

Jongin couldn’t go out in good conscience, knowing that he had turned into a failure overnight while the art world still praised his work and called him the greatest rising star to emerge this decade.

He wondered if he had gone crazy. It had happened to all of the greatest artists in history, so it wasn’t strange to think that it could eventually happen to him as well. But even if they were insane, their insanity allowed them to create magnificent and out-of-this-world art, which Jongin was miserably failing at. He couldn’t seem to funnel any of his creativity onto the blank surfaces that awaited his artistic touch.

Jongin hated himself.

He hated how self-assured he had grown over the past few years. He hated how expectant he had become of winning first place in any competition he entered. He hated how confident he had acted whenever he was interviewed, whenever he met with exhibit managers, whenever he promised another dazzling collection of art.

Because now, he couldn’t deliver what he had so arrogantly shown off that he was previously capable of creating.

If Jongin had to choose one of the seven deadly sins that embodied him, he would instantly choose pride because there was no way he would ever publicly admit his shortcomings since he was on his way to reaching the pinnacle of success. That was unacceptable. A genius like him bowed down to no one, not even himself, yet his current lack of inspiration was severely crippling his abilities and causing him to devolve into a shell of his former brilliant self.

God, he was pathetic.

He smiled wryly as he thought of the mighty lion, standing tall as the fierce king of the jungle. It towered over every other creature with its sheer strength and raw power. It established itself at the top of the food chain, taking command over those who dared to challenge it.

Jongin was the prideful lion of the art world.

He quite liked that depiction of himself. It seemed like his muse hadn’t completely left him. Or perhaps he was just deluding himself into thinking he could create something for the umpteenth time. But it was worth a shot.

So Jongin set up a blank canvas on his easel and quickly began sketching a rough likeness of his face framed with a lion’s mane. There was no need to grab a mirror to look at since he was already very familiar with his own facial features, having done numerous self-portraits over the years for practice. None of them were particularly stellar since he put in minimal effort, simply because he believed self-portraits were too ordinary to exist in the portfolio of an artist of his caliber. This one wasn’t going to be amazing either, but he desperately wanted to draw something—anything—just to prove to himself that his mind wasn’t completely dry.

Once he finished the primary sketch, Jongin swiftly glanced over it, deciding it wasn’t too bad. The lion’s mane looked quite flat, but then again, this was just a pencil sketch. Something like this needed to be painted instead of being another one of the ink drawings he had been pumping out for the past three months. Jongin walked over to his supplies cabinet and took out his circular palette, slightly dusty from the lack of recent use. While eyeing the canvas, the artist decided he would start with a base of browns and oranges for the lion’s mane. He could later mix an olive skin tone for the face, and then finish the painting off with reds and yellows intertwined in the lion’s mane.

With this plan in mind, he pulled out the two plastic shelves carrying various shades of brown and orange paint, picking up several tubes and bringing them over to the small table that already had his paintbrushes set up. Jongin doled out generous amounts of russet and gamboge onto his palette before picking up a large flat brush. He dipped it into the puddle of gamboge and brought the tip of the paintbrush to the white canvas.

--

Yixing locked the door behind him and sighed as he kicked off his shoes at the entrance of the apartment he shared with Jongin. He didn’t even know why he still bothered scouting venues and competitions lately, since he knew the artist would promptly shoot down any word in regards to appearing in public again. Well, it was at least worth a try to keep an eye out for any new opportunities, just in case Jongin finally came to his senses in the near future.

The manager lugged over two heavy grocery bags to the kitchen counter and reached for the ingredients he had bought to prepare their dinner. Tonight’s meal would be boeuf bourguignon, a beef stew with the meat braised in red wine and the broth flavored with potatoes, garlic, onions, and carrots. It was one of Jongin’s favorites, especially with an île flottante, a dessert consisting of a meringue floating on top of a vanilla custard, to finish off the meal. Even though Yixing was upset with Jongin’s current attitude, he still cared very much for the artist’s well-being and wanted Jongin to at least enjoy eating since he didn’t seem to enjoy creating art at all these past few months. Yixing couldn’t let the poor guy starve, no matter how frustrated he was with the artist. Besides, it would be easier to work with a full stomach rather than an empty one. So Yixing got to work as he quickly cooked the beef before transferring it to a pan filled with red wine set on low heat.

As he calmly chopped the vegetables that would be simmering in the broth, Yixing heard several loud crashes come from Jongin’s work room. The manager immediately dropped the knife he had been holding, letting it clatter onto the cutting board, and high-tailed it to the artist’s room. When he entered the spacious room, Yixing saw an overturned easel adjacent to a canvas that had been knocked to the floor. A palette lay on the floor, smudges of brown and orange paint dripping onto the wooden floorboards. Yixing took a closer look at the canvas and saw several slashes of different shades of orange all over its surface. “J-jongin?”

The artist was kneeling on the floor, clutching several paintbrushes in his hand. They were coated in the same orange shades that covered the wrecked canvas. “Yixing, come here,” the artist commanded.

The manager was quite startled by the darkness in Jongin’s tone. The atmosphere was much more sinister than it usually was during the artist’s frequent explosions. Yixing cautiously stepped over to his friend and kneeled down next to him while placing a soothing hand on Jongin’s shoulder. “What is it?”

Jongin two paintbrushes in front of Yixing’s face and demanded to know, “What colors are these?”

Yixing hastily leaned back, trying to avoid being stabbed in the eye by Jongin’s paintbrushes. The manager stared wide-eyed at the artist, at a loss on how to answer. “Uh, orange?” he finally managed to croak out.

“No, what shade of orange?” Jongin pressed.

“Well, this one is light orange?” Yixing responded uncertainly as he pointed to the left paintbrush. “And this one is slightly darker?”

Jongin growled in frustration as he shook his head. “This should be amber,” he said, waving the left paintbrush that Yixing had pointed at first. “And this should be gamboge.”

“Okay…” Yixing didn’t know what point Jongin was trying to make. “I mean, I know they’re two different colors, but I don’t know their technical names. You’re the artist, not me.”

“But you can tell they’re different shades of orange though, right?”

“Yeah…”

Jongin locked eyes with Yixing as he stated in anguish, “That’s not what I see.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Yixing asked, a foreboding sense of trepidation taking over. He had never seen Jongin look so desperate and forlorn before, not even when the artist was destroying any artwork he had become dissatisfied with. Jongin would usually be overcome with bursts of anger during those times, but now, only despondence was etched on the artist’s face. And that terrified Yixing, because he didn’t how to deal with the sudden appearance of such an unfamiliar emotion being showcased by Jongin.

“They all look the same to me.”

♈♈♈

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALISON!! This is for you and I hope you're ready, BECAUSE WE'RE ABOUT TO DIVE INTO A KAISOO WORLD OF EPIC PROPORTIONS. Thank you SO MUCH for nine years of friendship and fangirling. Even though we don't listen to J-Pop and Buono! anymore, I'M SO HAPPY YOU FOUND K-POP AND FELL IN LOVE WITH IT. And I can never thank you enough for bringing me to my first K-Pop concert on Valentine's Day this year (since i'm a single pringle who has no one rip), even though I was a little hesitant because I wasn't sure if I wanted my first concert experience to be with EXO since I didn't really know them at the time. BUT THANK GOD I WENT, BECAUSE YOU CHANGED MY LIFE AND NOW I HAVE GIVEN UP MY SOUL TO EXO. And thank you for putting up with my obsession with BaekChenLay, even though they're far from your OTP, because I don't think I would be able to express my undying love for those three with anyone else, HAHA. And since you gave me THE BEST PICTURE EVER for my birthday, I AM GIVING YOU THE PICTURE BELOW. (sorry kyungsoo didn't show up in this chp lol but this should make up for it + bby baek bc who doesnt love the most fab man on earth) I HOPE YOU LOVE IT AND I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU SOON!!