The drive was silent the entire way.

Jongin occasionally shivered in his seat, his wet clothes sticking to his cold skin. Although the car heater, which was on the highest setting, helped warm him up to the point where he didn’t feel like he’d faint from possible hypothermia, it didn’t change the fact that the artist had knelt down in the frigid rain for an entire hour. If he didn’t end up catching a cold tonight, Jongin would consider it an undeserved turn of good fortune.

Now that his mind was slightly clearer, he realized what a foolish decision that had been. If Yixing caught wind of this, his manager would be sure to fuss over and lecture the artist for weeks on end. And Jongin wouldn’t blame him for it, no matter how much he hated being nagged at.

It felt strange sitting next to Do Kyungsoo while not in the familiar setting of Bright Vision Eye Clinic, as if he were witnessing something that technically shouldn’t exist. Even though Jongin knew Kyungsoo had a life outside of the eye clinic, it was still a bit bizarre to see the ophthalmologist as a normal person, as someone who was just like everyone else. It was like seeing his school teachers or university professors shopping in grocery stores or walking around the mall. There was a sense of disconnect between their professional life and their personal life that was somewhat difficult to overcome.

Jongin also felt awkward after showcasing such a weak, wrecked part of himself to the other male. He couldn’t remember the last time he had broken down and cried like that, especially in front of someone else, much less a stranger.

Yes, Do Kyungsoo was technically a stranger.

They had met only five times—six, if counting their current situation—total and all of those were controlled by the circumstances of Jongin’s eye appointments. The artist didn’t bother counting the coincidental encounter at Café Noir the previous month, since Kyungsoo hadn’t even noticed the other male that time.

Sure, Jongin knew that Kyungsoo liked to wear an onyx ring on his right pinky finger and that he was apparently being romantically sought after by his colleagues, Kim Junmyeon and Park Sojin, and his friend, Baekhyun the coffee shop owner. But that was it. That was the extent of Jongin’s knowledge regarding Do Kyungsoo, senior ophthalmologist at Bright Vision Eye Clinic.

And what did Do Kyungsoo know about Kim Jongin?

Barely anything as well.

They were nothing more than acquaintances, their paths crossing by chance.

Yet the silence in the car was comforting. Well, it was for Jongin at least. He had virtually no energy to do more than focus on warming himself up while occasionally glancing at Kyungsoo to see if there were any changes in the ophthalmologist’s neutral expression.

There was nothing.

When almost twenty minutes passed, as they neared the end of the car ride, Jongin noticed how they were driving through a relatively affluent neighborhood, not unlike his or Sehun’s wealthy neighborhoods. He could tell how expensive the properties looked, since they were illuminated by dazzling and decorative streetlamps. The artist had an inkling of where they were headed, but he wordlessly waited for Kyungsoo to reveal their destination as the ophthalmologist drove through a giant platinum gate and onto a circular driveway in front of a massive white mansion.

Once the car was parked and the engine was cut, Kyungsoo finally said, “Welcome to my home, Mr. Kim. I hope you aren’t uncomfortable with me bringing you here so suddenly. I didn’t know where else to go, since you don’t want to go home, and you definitely need a change of clothes.”

“I’m fine with it,” Jongin murmured as he stepped out of the car and followed the shorter male into the house.

The first thing Kyungsoo did was shuttle the drenched artist into one of the guest bathrooms on the second floor. “You can take a hot shower here,” the ophthalmologist directed as he pushed back the cream-colored shower curtain to showcase a gigantic bathtub encased in a gold and white mottled granite chamber. “The shampoo, conditioner, and body wash are here,” he pointed to the golden metal basket attached to the tiled bathroom wall, “and I think I have a spare shower loofah you can use, unless you prefer scrubbing yourself with your hands?”

“Yeah, I’ll just use my hands.”

“Okay. In the meantime, I’ll go find a new outfit for you to wear when you’re done showering. You can leave your wet clothes in the sink. I’ll take them to the laundry room after I’ve dropped off the dry clothes.” Kyungsoo stared critically at Jongin’s tall frame, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought of what to lend the other male, knowing his own clothes definitely wouldn’t fit his guest.

“Thank you,” the artist said quietly.

Once Kyungsoo left the bathroom, firmly shutting the door behind him, Jongin slipped off his wet clothes and tossed them into the sink like the other male had instructed him to do. He then stepped into the oblong-shaped bathtub and drew the thick shower curtain across the right side of the basin, effectively concealing him from view. It took the artist a moment to figure out how to turn the shower faucet, but once the hot water knob was twisted to the left, a powerful stream jetted from the golden showerhead attached near the ceiling.

The steaming hot water poured over Jongin, scalding every centimeter of his body, but he welcomed the sting. It felt like he was burning away all of his incompetence, all of his failures, and letting them wash down the drain. Translucent steam escaped the shower chamber from underneath the curtain and filled the bathroom, causing the various mirrors and windows in the room to fog up until nothing could be seen in the glass reflections.

About ten minutes later, Kyungsoo knocked on the door, loudly announcing, “I’m coming in,” and then waited several seconds before letting himself into the bathroom. “I’m leaving the clothes and a towel for you to dry yourself with on the sink counter,” he said, setting a folded pile of clothing on the granite counter. He then extracted a fluffy white towel from one of the cabinets and neatly placed it next to the clothes. “When you’re done showering, come downstairs to the living room.”

“Okay,” was Jongin’s reply, muffled by the noises of running water hitting his bare skin and his hands scrubbing away the sudsy body wash he had applied a minute before.

“Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten dinner yet, right? I can make some food for you right now,” the ophthalmologist offered as he scooped the other male’s soaked clothes into his arms.

Jongin briefly paused his cleansing to respond, “No thank you. I don’t feel like eating right now.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Kim?”

“Yes.”

Kyungsoo worriedly looked at the drawn shower curtain before sighing and saying, “Okay then. I’m going downstairs now.”

--

By the time Jongin entered the living room, toweling his hair dry, Kyungsoo was pouring tea from a teapot decorated with lavender flowers into two ceramic mugs. The ophthalmologist looked up when he heard loud footsteps near him and then motioned from his open kitchen for Jongin to sit somewhere. As he lowered himself onto the beige leather couch that was stationed at the right side of the living room, the artist mildly noticed how it and the matching couch on the opposite side seemed to be the same brand as the couches in Kyungsoo’s office at Bright Vision Eye Clinic.

The living room itself looked extremely spacious, due to it being connected to the kitchen on the west side. The north wall of the living room was comprised of several wall-length window panels that likely let in copious amounts of sunlight when the weather wasn’t dark and stormy like it was at the moment. There was an enormous crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, which was about twelve feet high by Jongin’s estimation. An obsidian-rimmed fireplace was built into the south wall, and a handful of bronze statuettes and framed photographs stood on the mantle.

A thick patterned beige rug covered the floor from wall to wall and a rectangular, glass-topped table stood in the middle of the room, between the two couches. Two matching beige leather armchairs were placed by the north and the south sides of the table. A maize yellow vase of white magnolia flowers sat atop the table as its centerpiece. Four Madagascar dragon trees that varied from six to eight feet in height decorated the room, two on either side of the fireplace and two at the opposite ends of the north wall. The east side of the living room opened up to the winding, gold-trimmed staircase that led to the second floor and several hallways that led to other rooms on the first floor; Jongin wondered what else was in this big house.

While Jongin was busily observing the interior of the living room, Kyungsoo brought over the two mugs of tea and placed them on the glass-topped table before sitting next to the artist. “I brewed some olive leaf tea while you were showering, Mr. Kim,” he said, gesturing to the mugs. “At any rate, this will warm your stomach and help keep you from getting sick. It’s rich in Vitamin C and should stimulate your immune system. Not to mention, there’s no caffeine, so there’s no need to worry about staying up all night when you should be resting.”

“Thank you.” The artist reached forward to grab the navy blue mug, which was closer to him than the baby blue mug was, and brought it to his nose so he could take a sniff. A smoky, bitter scent wafted into his nostrils and Jongin slightly recoiled from the mug, a pinched expression appearing on his face. “I’ve never had olive leaf tea before,” he revealed when the ophthalmologist looked at him questioningly.

“Try it,” Kyungsoo encouraged with a soft grin. “I personally prefer olive leaf tea over green tea, especially at night because of the lack of caffeine, and it also has twice the amount of antioxidants than green tea does. It’s a very healthy alternative to green tea, but if you don’t like it, I can brew something else for you instead.”

Deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to try the drink, Jongin slowly brought the mug to his lips and sipped some of the hot olive leaf tea. It took a few moments for the artist’s taste buds to register the foreign flavor, since the heat of the liquid was overpowering at first, but Jongin soon found that he was pleasantly surprised by the result. The olive leaf tea wasn’t as bitter as green tea was; there was a sweet tang that excited his taste buds instead. “It’s…really good,” the artist finally commented, much to Kyungsoo’s delight. “Did you add anything to the tea to make it taste so sweet?”

The ophthalmologist shook his head. “That’s how it naturally tastes when steeped correctly. I’m not a big fan of adding sugar or honey to my tea, so I also like how olive leaf tea is already sweet enough by itself.”

Jongin had to stop himself from draining the entire mug, since it was still extremely hot. But he did indulge in a few more sips, exhaling contentedly as he felt the warm liquid travel down his throat, through his esophagus, and eventually to his stomach.

Kyungsoo also sipped some piping hot tea before placing his baby blue mug on the table and motioning to Jongin’s body. “How do the clothes fit?”

The artist briefly looked down at his outfit, which consisted of a woolen maroon turtleneck and a pair of black Adidas soccer pants. “They actually fit pretty well,” Jongin answered, slightly adjusting the thick fabric around his neck. “I’m surprised you managed to find something in my size, since you’re a lot shorter than me.”

“My best friend is about your height—maybe a few centimeters taller, but not by a significant amount—so I lent you his clothes,” Kyungsoo explained. “He sleeps over sometimes, so I have some of his belongings stashed around here.”

Jongin raised an eyebrow at the statement, wondering who the ophthalmologist’s best friend could be. Certainly not Kim Junmyeon, who he remembered had looked to be around the same height as Kyungsoo. It couldn’t be Baekhyun either, since the coffee shop owner was much shorter than Jongin.

Not to mention, the artist thought it was a bit strange that the other male’s best friend was apparently sleeping over enough times to warrant Kyungsoo keeping his clothes—and whatever else—somewhere in the house. Jongin didn’t even have that kind of relationship with Sehun. Both preferred sleeping in the comfort of their own beds, so no matter how late it got, they would always return home after hanging out with each other. Yixing did live with Jongin, but that was because of his job as the artist’s manager and the fact that he didn’t have a house of his own, having come from abroad to attend university in Seoul when they were younger.

But Kyungsoo didn’t seem to think it was odd and just continued saying, “You can return the clothes to me at our next appointment. My best friend has other clothes he can wear if he decides to stay over sometime within the next two weeks.”

“Oh, okay…”

There was a pregnant pause as neither male said anything after that. Jongin took another swig of the hot olive leaf tea and kept his gaze trained on the table in front of him, knowing that this was just the preamble of what was to come.

After several minutes of silence, save for the occasional sounds of tea sipping and mugs clinking against the glass tabletop, Kyungsoo finally asked, his voice tinged with hesitance, “Are you ready to talk about what happened earlier?”

Jongin shrunk back, even though he had been expecting the question.

“Mr. Kim, I know it might be uncomfortable for you, but I can’t pretend something like that didn’t happen,” Kyungsoo gently pointed out. “You could have been seriously hurt while you were kneeling in the parking lot. What if someone had driven into the lot and accidentally hit you, since it was raining so much and it was too dark to see anything? What if I hadn’t been there to close up the eye clinic and you knelt there for hours in the cold rain?”

Jongin bit his lip while keeping his head bowed, too ashamed to look at Kyungsoo in the eye.

“I don’t want to lecture you and I’m sure you already know how thoughtless that was. There’s no point in me reiterating it further. If something is bothering you, Mr. Kim, this is a safe space to talk about it. I won’t judge you or say anything, unless you want my advice. I’ll just listen and let you get whatever is burdening you off of your chest.” The ophthalmologist sent Jongin a soft smile before adding, “I promise.”

His support fed Jongin a small spark of confidence and the artist slowly nodded in response, which caused Kyungsoo’s face to brighten.

“I… I don’t know where to start…” Jongin admitted several moments later. “There’s been a lot going on in my life this past year.”

“Is there something in particular that bothered you today?” Kyungsoo prompted.

The artist took a deep breath before spilling out, “I failed the one hundred hue test, didn’t I?”

This time, Kyungsoo was the one to pause before answering, “Unfortunately, your results were less than satisfactory. I am still working on deciphering why that could be, but it does support your claim of having weak color vision. If anything, I will conduct another comprehensive retinal examination at your next appointment to see if the health of your eyes has changed these past few months. Perhaps that can give us more insight into why your Ishihara test score is so drastically different from your Farnsworth-Munsell test score.”

At the ophthalmologist’s words, it felt like sharp claws were clenched around Jongin’s heart, digging deeper and deeper to make it bleed out. He was back at square one, just as lost and without any answers as he had been while in Paris. Except it hurt even more to know that he had done so much and tried so hard to solve the problem, but with no success in the end.

It was as if there had been no point in doing any of this in the first place.

When Jongin didn’t say anything, since he was so caught up in his thoughts, Kyungsoo tentatively asked, “Was that why you came back to the eye clinic? Was it to ask me about your test results?”

The artist couldn’t answer. He honestly hadn’t known that his legs would automatically take him to Bright Vision Eye Clinic when he impulsively ran away from home. His mind had completely shut down as soon as he had stepped outside, letting the rain pour down on him in droves. In fact, Jongin couldn’t even recall how he had eventually made his way to the eye clinic. All he remembered was suddenly dropping to his knees when he had finally reached the parking lot, his leg muscles burning with exhaustion and his heart frozen with fear. He hadn’t cared that the asphalt dug sharply into his knees or that he looked like a drowned rat as he knelt there in despair.

At that moment, he hadn’t been able to see his past, present, or future.

“Mr. Kim?” Kyungsoo gently prodded, seeing the light fade from Jongin’s eyes again. “Is there a reason why this is so devastating for you? It isn’t uncommon for men to experience some form of color blindness, since we are statistically more susceptible to showcasing an inherited X-linked genetic mutation due to our single X chromosome. Eight percent of the male population is afflicted with color vision problems, but most are able to live a relatively normal life. Technology and medicine have also progressed greatly within the last few decades to help correct these deficiencies, even though a cure has yet to be discovered. I know you’re an artist, so I can understand why color is so important to you, but research has shown that color blindness does not necessarily deter one from creating art. Several professionals have managed to achieve great success, despite their weak color vision.”

“But that doesn’t mean it’s the same for me!” Jongin burst out, his hands now gripping the edge of the couch so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Realizing that his anger was getting the best of him again, he immediately ducked his head and muttered, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“No, I should apologize as well,” Kyungsoo answered with a shake of his head. “I probably sounded like I was belittling your situation, which wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s just that color is so important to me,” the artist said, trying to put into words something that had been ingrained in his life for as long as he could remember. “Without color, the world feels dead. Color is what gives life to everything around us. Plants are green, water is blue, and even then, they’re all different shades of those base colors.

“The world is given depth and dimension, because we have all of these colors giving shape to things that would otherwise be flat. Imagine if everything were the same, if everything were just black and white. Wouldn’t that be incredibly boring? Even we, as humans, come in all different colors. Even within the same race, as East Asians—heck, the same ethnicity, as Koreans—we range from pale peach to tanned brown.” Jongin gestured to Kyungsoo before pointing at himself. “We’re so similar yet so different at the same time and the fact that there’s so much variety on this planet is the biggest blessing we could have ever received.

“As an artist, it’s my duty—my life’s meaning, really—to showcase how beautiful and diverse this world can be through the colors on my palette. I’ve learned so much by observing nature, by illustrating man-made objects, by designing whatever comes to my mind and sharing my art with the rest of society.” His voice then began to falter. “Without my ability to see color, even if my muse returns, there’s no hope—essentially no future for me as an artist. There’s no future for me at all. Without color, my world is dead.”

At the end of his monologue, Jongin buried his head in his hands, having fallen back down into the pit of darkness, of black tendrils that eagerly wrapped him in their waiting embrace.

But Kyungsoo refused to let the artist break, not when he had caught a glimpse of the strength that truly resonated within him. Scooting closer to Jongin, the ophthalmologist said softly, “You’re a very inspirational man, Mr. Kim. I’m sure your art has inspired so many people to see beauty in every shape and form.”

“Maybe I was able to before, but not anymore. Not since last August,” Jongin mumbled through his hands.

“What happened last August?”

Jongin lifted his head up, letting out a shuddering breath before replying, “My muse disappeared. The voice in my head that conjured idea after idea for me to paint just vanished all of a sudden.”

As the artist explained everything that had happened to him since then, all of the failed inked drawings, all of the nights he partook in excess alcohol, all of the times he screamed and destroyed his creations, Kyungsoo patiently listened. He nodded along, but didn’t make any verbal comments to avoid disrupting Jongin’s flow. And by the end of it, after the artist had recounted how today’s failures had pushed him to his latest breaking point, Kyungsoo found himself wondering why so much pain and hardship had been inflicted on a single person.

While life generally wasn’t fair, this was beyond unfair for Kim Jongin.

--

It was around nine o’clock at night when Jongin finally decided to check his phone. As expected, there were dozens of missed calls and unread text messages from Yixing.

Kyungsoo gestured to the phone as well, a look of understanding crossing his youthful face. “Is your manager looking for you?”

The artist nodded, keeping his gaze glued to the phone screen as he typed in the four-number pass code and began scrolling through the call log. Yixing had been incessantly calling him for the past two hours, most likely since after he had finished making dinner for the evening. That would have been when he had realized Jongin’s absence. The artist never went anywhere without notifying Yixing first, whether in person or through text, so it was understandable that his manager had frantically tried to reach him upon discovering his disappearance.

Deciding there was no point in looking through the text messages, since they’d all be saying the same thing in varying ways, Jongin briefly looked up at the ophthalmologist and said, “I guess I’ll ask my manager to pick me up now. It’s late and you haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

“Neither have you,” Kyungsoo gently reminded him. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat, Mr. Kim? I can whip up something in a couple of minutes.”

“I’m honestly not hungry,” Jongin politely declined. “Besides, you’ve already provided a lot for me tonight,” the artist motioned to the empty navy blue mug sitting on the table and the dry clothes he was currently wearing, “and I think I’ve imposed long enough.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Kyungsoo insisted while smiling warmly at the other male who quickly averted his gaze, feeling like he didn’t deserve the ophthalmologist’s kindness. “I’m just glad I found you before anything worse happened to you. And I hope you’re feeling better after our chat, Mr. Kim. I think I understand you better now, so I want to sincerely apologize for anything I might have said or done that offended you during our appointments.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jongin mumbled, his face facing the maroon-colored carpet. “I should be the one apologizing for being so rude to you. You’ve been nothing but patient and considerate to me, yet I continuously let my anger get the best of me and I thoughtlessly took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

Kyungsoo reached over to place his right hand over the artist’s left hand and then gave it a comforting squeeze. “Apology accepted.”

Jongin noticed how warm the shorter male’s hand was and he was almost loath to remove his own hand from the calming heat source. But then his phone rang again, courtesy of Yixing’s umpteenth attempt at reaching the artist, causing Jongin to instinctively reach for it and the movement resulted in his hand slipping from underneath Kyungsoo’s.

“Jongin, are you there?!” the manager’s voice shrilled from the phone speaker.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Oh, thank god, you finally picked up! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours!” Yixing rambled, relief noticeably coloring his tone. But it didn’t last for long and he instantly switched to a more accusatory voice to ream the artist for being so irresponsible. “Where have you been this entire time, Jongin?! I went up to your room when you didn’t come down for dinner and you were gone! I couldn’t find you anywhere in the house! And you didn’t leave a note or a text or anything to tell me where you went! I was so worried that something bad had happened to you!”

“I’m fine, Yixing. You don’t have to worry—”

“Of course I have to worry!” the manager screeched. “No one knew where you were! I tried calling you so many times, but you didn’t pick up any of my calls, and I tried texting you over and over again, but you didn’t respond to any of my messages! You didn’t even read them! I called Sehun to see if you were with him, but he didn’t know where you were either! He and Jongdae are searching for you right now, and I’ve been going absolutely crazy trying to figure out where you could’ve gone!”

Jongin winced when he heard the anguish in Yixing’s voice. He hadn’t meant to cause his friends and family to become so concerned. At the time, all he had thought about was trying to escape another stark reminder of his failure as an artist and the thought of informing Yixing of his plans hadn’t crossed his mind in the slightest, mostly because he technically hadn’t planned on running away. It had just…happened.

And now he was here at Do Kyungsoo’s house, wearing his borrowed clothes—well, technically, Kyungsoo’s best friend’s clothes—and sitting next to the ophthalmologist.

“I—”

“Don’t you dare give me any excuses,” Yixing cut in. “Just tell me where you are right now and I’ll come pick you up this instant.”

“I’ll text you the address,” the artist replied quietly, his head hanging low in penitence, even though Yixing couldn’t see him at the moment.

By now, the manager’s voice had softened as he calmly said, “Thank you, Jongin. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay, see you in a bit. Thanks, Yixing.” The artist hung up the call and unconsciously let out a noisy exhale as he leaned back into the couch. That phone call had taken more out of him than he had expected it to. He then turned to Kyungsoo, who was watching him with those round dark brown eyes, and sheepishly asked, “Could you text your address to my manager, please? He’s coming to pick me up right now.”

“Of course,” the ophthalmologist answered, taking Jongin’s phone and diligently typing out his address in the New Message box. “There, you can send it now.”

“Thanks.” Jongin inputted his manager’s contact number before pressing the Send button and locking his phone screen, setting the electronic device facedown next to him on the couch. “You’ve been really helpful tonight. I appreciate it a lot.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Kim. Would you like some more tea while we wait for your manager to arrive?” Kyungsoo offered as he stood up and collected the empty mugs from the table. “I can also grab your clothes from the laundry room. They should be clean and dry by now.”

The artist smiled gratefully and nodded. “That would be great. Thank you.”

--

Jongin and Kyungsoo were in the middle of a conversation about birds, since the ophthalmologist used to be an avid bird-watcher. He was in the midst of showing Jongin his thick photo album of various bird species he had followed during their autumn and winter migration patterns when the doorbell suddenly rang.

“That must be Yixing,” the artist commented, looking in the direction of the front hall. “I guess it’s time for me to go now.”

As he shut the photo album, Kyungsoo said, “We can finish looking through these another time.” He then quickly added, “I’ll take care of those after you leave,” when he noticed the artist reach for his empty mug to take it to the kitchen and rinse away the residual drops of olive leaf tea.

“Oh, okay.”

After making sure Jongin had all of his belongings—a plastic bag filled with his cleaned clothes, his phone, his house keys, and his wallet—the two males walked to the front door and Kyungsoo unlocked it to let Yixing inside.

The manager immediately wrapped his arms around Jongin, who let out a low grunt since he hadn’t been expecting the crushing hug. “Don’t you dare disappear like that ever again, Kim Jongin!”

The taller male soothingly patted his friend’s back as he apologized once more. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

Once Yixing was satisfied with the artist’s answer, he let go of Jongin and curiously turned his gaze to Kyungsoo. “Thank you so much for taking care of Jongin tonight, but may I ask who you are and how you know him?”

“I’m Dr. Do Kyungsoo, his ophthalmologist at Bright Vision Eye Clinic,” the shorter male introduced with a pleasant smile decorating his face while also holding out his right hand. “I believe you are Kim Jongin’s manager, correct?”

“Yes, I’m Zhang Yixing, Jongin’s manager and long-time friend since college,” the Chinese male answered, quickly using both hands to shake Kyungsoo’s proffered right hand as he bowed to the ophthalmologist. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Dr. Do. Thank you very much for doing everything you can to help restore Jongin’s color vision! We’re tremendously grateful for all of the help we can get to fix his problem.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Kyungsoo replied, also dipping his upper body in a slight bow. “I apologize for not suggesting to Mr. Kim that he contact you sooner, Mr. Zhang. You must have been extremely worried about him while he was here.”

“Goodness, no, it isn’t your fault, Dr. Do,” Yixing hastily said. “Jongin is the only one to blame here,” he continued, sending the artist a fierce glower. “He’s old enough to be responsible for his own actions.”

“What the heck, Yixing! It’s not like—”

“Anyway, we’ve taken up a lot of your time already,” the manager said, mercilessly cutting off Jongin’s attempts to defend himself. “Thank you again for helping Jongin today! We’ll see you at his next appointment!” Even though the artist was glaring daggers at the Chinese male, Yixing blatantly ignored Jongin’s fury and quietly hissed to him, “Hurry up and thank him, you dolt!”

“I already did!”

“Well, too bad! Do it again!”

Jongin grumbled as he turned to Kyungsoo, who was watching the pair in amusement, and repeated, “Thank you for helping me today. And I deeply apologize for making you go through all of this trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Kim. I hope you feel better soon. Have a safe drive home, you two!”

With that, Jongin and Yixing stepped outside while under the protective canopy of the older male’s cobalt blue umbrella, since it was still raining. They carefully made their way to Yixing’s Lexus, which was parked behind Kyungsoo’s BMW, and buckled themselves in.

“Can you text Jongdae and Sehun to tell them we’re on our way home?” the manager asked as he revved up the car engine.

“Yeah, I’ll do that right now. Sorry again about what happened today, Yixing.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” the manager answered, his voice laced with exhaustion. “I’m going to bed the moment we get home.”

A wave of guilt washed over Jongin, and he obediently dropped the subject as his fingers flew over his phone keyboard to send a text message to his older brother and his best friend. They both responded within the minute, Jongdae making a snarky remark about Jongin being a child who constantly needed adult supervision and Sehun asking if Jongin wanted him to come over so they could talk about whatever was bothering him. The artist opted to ignore his older brother’s response and pressed the notification from Sehun instead. Jongin then typed back a message, saying that there was no need to since it was late and that he would update his best friend another time.

This car ride, like the one to Kyungsoo’s house, was also quiet. Jongin was glad for the silence, since it gave him a chance to gather his thoughts as he reflected upon the last few hours spent with the ophthalmologist.

It felt nice knowing that his future appointments with Kyungsoo would no longer be wrought with bitterness and irritation, although he knew the negative behavior had been mostly his doing. From now on, the two males would work together to figure out a solution to the artist’s problem.

Tonight, the olive branch had been extended and Jongin intended to keep this peace treaty permanently in place.

♈♈♈