As Yixing scrambled behind Jongin, juggling as many bags as he could while trying to keep up with the artist’s long strides, the manager grumbled under this breath about Jongin not pulling his own weight. But the younger male just ignored his friend’s complaints as he marched on, a pair of black aviator sunglasses perched atop his nose. Jongin was dressed in all black, knowing that he would be less conspicuous that way, even though it would be very difficult for anyone to spot him amidst the bustling crowd of people hastily walking to and fro within the Aéroport de Paris-Charles-de-Gaulle. Not to mention, no one knew of the pair’s sudden travel plans, which had stressed Yixing to no end when Jongin commanded that they leave soon after he proposed the idea of returning to Seoul.

Within forty-eight hours, Yixing had bought two first-class tickets for a non-stop flight from Paris to Seoul, arranged for all of their belongings to be shipped back to Jongin’s home in Seoul, and ended their housing contract with the grumpy landlady who lived on the first floor of their apartment building. The manager had begged and pleaded for Jongin to speak with the old Parisian woman instead, the traumatic experience of securing the apartment keys from her when they had first moved to the capital city of France still fresh in his mind.

“Jongin, she’ll chase after me with her metal cane again!” Yixing whimpered as he clutched onto his friend’s arm before Jongin could escape to his work room so he could pack away his art supplies. “Please, I’ll do anything if you talk to her instead! We both know that she likes you more, since you’re the one who’s actually paying the rent!”

“You’re overreacting. She’s just a harmless old woman,” Jongin answered without a trace of sympathy as he tugged his arm out of Yixing’s grasp. “Besides, we’re offering to pay the entirety of next month’s rent as compensation, so there’s no reason for her to get upset.”

“But—”

“No buts, Yixing,” Jongin responded firmly. “I have other things to take care of before our flight tomorrow evening. it up and go do your job.”

Yixing felt like crying as he wordlessly watched the artist disappear into his work room without a second glance, firmly shutting the door behind him. Why, oh why, had he ever agreed to be Jongin’s manager all those years ago?

The two navigated the busy walkways of the Charles de Gaulle airport, Yixing having considerably more trouble as he struggled with balancing their entire luggage in his arms while trying not to bump into any poor unsuspecting individuals. Once they arrived at their designated terminal, Yixing immediately dropped everything onto the floor as he fell into one of the mustard yellow chairs provided by the airport, loudly exhaling in exhaustion.

Jongin sat down next to him and was about to pull out his sketchbook, but ultimately decided against it since he didn’t want to feel agitated and distressed when he left the city that he had called home for the last few years. It didn’t seem right to sour the dozens of wonderful memories he had made in the world’s arts capital, simply because he had lost his way near the very end. So the artist opted instead to gaze at his surroundings, the atmosphere’s silence punctuated by the light snores coming from Yixing who had soundly fallen asleep.

The younger male wished he could drift off into unconsciousness as easily as his friend had, but even if he didn’t want to admit it, Jongin was afraid to do so. Sleep meant the crushing sensation of black would return. The artist wanted to blame every problem he had encountered since five months ago on this suffocating feeling, even if it might not actually be the cause of the loss of his muse and his ability to properly distinguish color. Jongin felt a wave of resentment wash over him as poisonous thoughts began entering his mind and he had to deliberately blank out everything in an effort to squash the toxicity. The artist had already promised himself that he would leave Paris in high spirits, so when the flashing overhead screens in the terminal they were waiting in announced that it was time for the passengers to board the aircraft, Jongin let out an audible sigh of relief before gently shaking Yixing awake.

When the two young men finally boarded the airplane, Jongin thought mildly how he would much rather ride a speedy jet back to Seoul, feeling the pull of home even more strongly now that the act of leaving Paris was finally becoming a reality. Even though he and Yixing would be comfortable during the entire flight in their reclining seats with ample leg space, which most of the passengers on this flight would be missing out on, the need to be back on South Korean soil was eating away at the artist as he pushed his maroon carryon bag underneath his chair and settled into the soft plush seat he had been assigned to.

Looking out the small oval-shaped window by his seat, Jongin noted how dark the night sky was. Instead of being the usual midnight blue, the shadowy sky reminded him of the mineral gemstone obsidian. The thousands of stars twinkled brightly against the enormous expanse of sky overhead, but Jongin could only feel the sharpness of the dark pressing down on him, even though he was safely inside the airplane.

As he felt his breath constrict in his chest, a large fluffy white blanket was suddenly dropped into his lap. Jongin looked up to see Yixing smiling down at him while holding out a black eye mask for the artist to take. “Get some rest. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us and you can’t be up the entire time, thinking about your problems.”

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” Jongin responded gruffly as he took the eye mask from Yixing. He eyed the manager, who still looked dead tired, and said, “You should take care of yourself first. Worry about me once you don’t look like you’re about to collapse where you’re standing.”

Yixing nodded with a small smile gracing his angelic face before stepping across the narrow aisle to his assigned seat and wrapping his own blanket around his thin body. A few seconds later, the older male’s eyes gradually closed and his breathing slowed down to an even, steady rhythm, the blanket moving in conjunction with the rise and fall of his chest.

The artist watched Yixing fall asleep before dragging his own blanket up to his chin and pulling the eye mask over his head, fitting it securely above the bridge of his nose. The overwhelming blackness surrounded his mind now that the dim light in the aircraft was completely blocked off from his vision and Jongin could feel himself slipping down back into the void that had first pulled him into its clutches five months ago. Unable to fight the pull of the intense emptiness, the image of him plummeting down into nothingness was the last thing Jongin thought of as sleep finally claimed him.

--

Jongin stared out of the window of the taxicab, drinking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city he had spent most of his life in. Seoul was bustling with activity, cars zipping around while masses of people filled the sidewalks. The city crackled with life in an inherently different way than Paris did, which charged up the artist as he tried to internalize everything he was experiencing at the moment.

Yixing smiled to himself as he noted the expression of unadulterated wonder plastered on his friend’s face. It had been the right call to return to Seoul, despite the harried and hasty conditions that had surrounded their departure from Paris. Perhaps all that the younger male needed was a change of scenery coupled with the familiarity of home. Maybe now, Jongin would return to being the great artist that he had always been since he was just a young boy, playing with finger-paints and creating sand sculptures.

But it was strange. Seoul, much like the Luxembourg Garden, didn’t look the same as it had before. Even though it was still a visibly lively city, something felt…off. As if a sense of lethargy were hanging over the capital like a gray raincloud. That was the easiest way for Jongin to describe it as he continued observing the scenery through the taxicab window.

--

“When are our things scheduled to arrive here?” Jongin asked Yixing as the two were unloading their luggage from the trunk of the taxicab. The car was parked in front of the gated entrance to Jongin’s home in Seoul.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Yixing answered, trying to balance as much as he could in his arms. Once they finished unloading, Jongin handed several bills to the taxicab driver, who tipped his hat in thanks and drove away.

As they walked through the large metallic gray gate and into the front garden, the artist distastefully noted how the usually flawless hedges and topiaries looked unkempt, and the bright flowers seemed to be wilting in their designated patches. “Remind me to fire the gardeners and hire new ones,” Jongin ordered as he continued sweeping his gaze over the front yard.

Yixing let out a noncommittal grunt, even though he could see nothing wrong with the garden. It looked as beautiful as ever. However, he didn’t want to argue with Jongin so soon after returning home and just pressed forward, getting to the front door before the younger male did.

Jongin dawdled behind and let his manager enter the house first as he stepped towards a patch of Grecian windflowers, reaching out and gently rubbing the soft petals between his thin fingers. After briefly musing over the blue-gray tinge that appeared on his fingertips, Jongin walked to the front of the house, pulling his jet black suitcase behind him. Yixing had left the door open, most likely due to the fact that he had been holding too many bags to comfortably close the door behind him. So the artist passed through it and grabbed the golden doorknob to close the heavy wooden door.

And seconds later, Jongin heard two high-pitched screams coming from the living room. He hastily dropped his suitcase and dashed over to the main room of the house, stopping in his tracks once he was at the entrance. His bottom lip curled in displeasure as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

“Why are you , Jongdae?”

A small, scrawny man was standing by the large brown leather couch in the middle of the room, using one hand to hold a cushion in front of his crotch and the other to cover as much as he could of his bare chest. A magenta flush covered his defined cheeks as he fidgeted where he stood, trying to salvage what was left of his dignity. “Oh my god, Jongin, you could have at least let me know you were coming home.”

Jongin raised an eyebrow as he replied, “And what does that have to do with you being - right now?”

The artist’s gaze momentarily flicked over to Yixing who was crouched on the floor, covering his eyes and repeatedly muttering under his breath, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The bags the manager had been carrying were messily scattered around him, having fallen out of his grasp when he stumbled upon a completely Jongdae sitting on the couch.

“I—I like to be comfortable when I’m home alone, okay?” Jongdae stuttered as he shifted uncomfortably, keeping a defiant expression on his face to mask his embarrassment.

Jongin didn’t say anything.

“It isn’t weird! And normal people don’t barge into people’s homes unannounced!”

“This is my house as well,” Jongin pointed out, his face impassive as he continued staring at Jongdae who was now a bright shade of scarlet.

“That you haven’t lived in for three years!”

“…Go get dressed, Jongdae. We’ll talk later. I need to get Yixing some eye bleach.”

Jongdae almost threw the cushion he was clutching at Jongin, but remembered at the last moment that he was holding it for a certain reason and shot the artist a dirty look instead before he ran for the stairs, yelling behind him, “You're not the boss of me, Jongin! I can do whatever I want in my own house!”

Jongin just rolled his eyes as Jongdae disappeared and focused on his manager, who was still curled up on the floor. The artist tried tugging Yixing up, but it seemed like the exhaustion from moving and the shock of seeing a completely exposed Jongdae had messed with the older male’s psyche, rendering him immobile at the moment. Jongin sighed deeply as he rubbed his temples in annoyance.

He was going to kill that foolish, older brother of his one of these days.

--

“Glad to see that you’re finally dressed and actually presentable,” Jongin commented dryly once Jongdae joined him at the dining table. Yixing was resting in the guest room on the second floor; the artist had finally managed to drag the stunned older male to the bedroom and convinced him to sleep for as long as he needed to now that they were finally back in Seoul. The manager had protested weakly at first, mumbling about needing to sort out the luggage and properly unpack everything, but Jongin insisted that he get some much-needed rest instead. It was for these moments in which his executive power as Yixing’s boss came in handy.

“And you’re still a snarky little brat,” Jongdae shot back as he patted away the creases in his crisp white shirt and faded jeans. “I guess being in Paris for three years didn’t change you at all.”

Jongin’s face darkened, because he was suddenly reminded of why he had returned home to Seoul in the first place.

But Jongdae misunderstood the reason for his younger brother’s change in expression and hastily said, “I’m kidding! Lighten up a little, will you?”

“And end up like you?"

“Shut up! I have a job, okay? It’s very important and pays very well!” Jongdae retorted while smiling smugly as his chest puffed up with pride.

Jongin looked skeptically at his older brother. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. I’m now the personal secretary for the CEO of Jade Enterprises,” Jongdae boasted with a wide grin. “It's one of the fastest growing conglomerates nowadays and I managed to secure a position within the main company.”

“As the CEO's slave,” Jongin deadpanned, visibly unimpressed with his older brother’s news.

The smaller male aimed a kick at the artist, who easily dodged the attack, and said, “I’m an extremely significant employee, you jerk. The CEO wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything without me and he always takes my suggestions very seriously.”

“Whatever you say, bro,” Jongin answered, leaning back into his chair. “Well, it’s about time you stopped leeching off of Mom and Dad.”

A mortified look crossed Jongdae’s face as he exclaimed, clearly offended by his younger brother’s words, “I’ve never leeched off of anyone! Mom and Dad left me to fend for myself once you started sending them monthly checks after you went off to Paris. They’ve been on vacation every moment they get, thanks to the money you send them. Right now, they’re in Hawaii for who knows how long.” Jongdae sighed dramatically as he looked longingly into the distance. “I wish I could go on vacation…”

“Seems like you were doing just fine without one before Yixing and I arrived,” Jongin remarked sardonically, thinking back to Jongdae’s previously unclothed form.

The older brother blushed again, although not as deeply as he did when he had been completely earlier. “I swear to God, you better not bring this up ever again after today.”

“No promises.”

“Screw you, Jongin.”

The artist just shrugged, knowing that his older brother had no authority over him. Perks of growing up as a child prodigy.

“So why are you back all of a sudden?” Jongdae finally asked, wanting to divert the conversation away from his former state of undress. “Weren’t you off doing super amazing art stuff in Paris? I thought you wouldn’t be back for another two years or so.”

And once again, Jongin’s mood soured. “Plans change.” Seeing Jongdae open his mouth to continue asking questions, the artist quickly spoke before his older brother could. “I’m tired. Has my room been kept clean all this time?”

Jongdae nodded as he stood up with his younger brother and began following him out of the dining room to Jongin’s bedroom on the second floor. “The housekeepers go in once a week to clean it, even though there’s nothing much for them to actually clean since you haven’t been here for the past three years.”

While they walked down the hallway on the second floor, Jongin caught sight of several pieces of jewelry displayed on a counter between his bedroom and Jongdae’s. He stopped abruptly, hissing in exasperation when his older brother bumped into him, and reached out to trace a finger along the perfectly cut edges of the jet black stones. “Jongdae, where did you get these?”

“Jade Enterprises started off as a jewelry company and once they gained enough traction in that industry, they began expanding into other fields. But their most successful and lucrative ventures are still based in jewelry craft. The CEO gave me a prototype set of one of the new lines the company is launching this winter since I mentioned to him how much I liked it when we were discussing which collections to release,” Jongdae explained as he gazed fondly at the set of a necklace, earrings, brooch, ring, bracelet, hairpin, and pendant all made out of jet. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

Jongin hummed in agreement as he continued inspecting the minute intricacies that made up the pieces of striking black jewelry. Despite it only being a prototype set, the accessories were still extremely well-made in the artist’s opinion. The set sparkled nicely with the rays of sunlight from a nearby window beaming perfectly onto the counter. The only thing that bothered Jongin was the sensation of melancholy that bubbled up within him as he stared at the jewelry, the familiar abyss of black reaching for him once more.

“Um, Jongin?”

The artist was jolted out of his fleeting trance and lightly shook his head, trying to erase the magnetizing pull of the jet stones from his mind. “What?”

“I think it’s time for you to rest. You can look at the jewelry later. You seem really out of it right now,” Jongdae observed as he placed a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder and softly pushed the artist towards his bedroom.

Jongin let his older brother lead him to his perfectly made king-sized bed and fell onto the mattress, all of the energy completely drained from his body now that he was in a more physically relaxing position. With his systems shutting down, he couldn’t make out any of the words currently coming out of Jongdae’s mouth and just surrendered to the darkness, unable to fight off the waves of sleep.

♈♈♈