Jongin pursed his lips in a straight line as he scanned the contents of the letter from Bright Vision Eye Clinic. It was a jumble of numbers and medical terms that he honestly didn’t understand, but at least Dr. Do had been considerate enough to summarize everything into layman’s terms at the end of the report.

Yixing noticed his friend’s change in expression and asked, “What does it say?”

“My blood is normal,” the artist answered, his tone void of emotion.

There was a slight pause before Yixing hesitantly responded, “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Well, that was the problem.

At this point, Jongin wasn’t sure what he was hoping for. Yes, this meant he was in good health and didn’t have to worry about any other medical conditions possibly afflicting him. But, on the other hand, this also meant there still wasn’t an explanation for his botched color vision. At the rate they were going, it would take years for Kyungsoo to figure out what was wrong with the artist.

Jongin exhaled noisily as he folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope it had been mailed in. “I’m going to bed,” he stated as he stood up from the dining table, pointedly avoiding the manager’s question. “Good night, Yixing.”

“Good night, Jongin…” However, the response fell on deaf ears as the other male disappeared up the stairs, his dismal aura spreading around the house again.

--

Light rain was falling from the cloudy, gray sky as Yixing drove his friend to the eye clinic. The precipitation made the city seem even gloomier than usual and Jongin was reminded of the dark skies that typically covered Paris when it wasn’t summertime. Rainy weather was the norm there, so right now, it felt like he was back in his apartment in the fourteenth arrondissement of France's capital city.

Once they arrived at the parking lot, Jongin was about to step out of the car when the manager’s hand quickly latched onto his wrist. “You should take your umbrella with you,” Yixing said, using his free hand to point at the rolled up gray umbrella lying at the foot of the passenger seat.

“What for?” the artist asked, raising his right eyebrow.

“The weather forecast says it’ll be raining even harder later today, so you should take it with you, just in case.”

“Fine,” Jongin relented with a heavy sigh as he bent down to grab the umbrella by its black handle. He had no energy to argue with his manager, especially on a dreary day like this one. The sooner he got this appointment over with, the sooner he’d be at home, cocooned in his thick blanket in the comfort of his bedroom.

Yixing could tell that the artist was feeling dejected again, even though he didn’t know the reason why, so he sent Jongin his brightest smile and said, “See you in a bit! I’ll be doing errands in the area, so text me when you’re done!”

The artist hummed in response as he shut the car door and briefly waved to Yixing. Since it was only drizzling at the moment, Jongin made no move to open the umbrella and tucked it in the right pocket of his slate gray raincoat instead. He then took a deep breath before steeling himself to walk through the double doors made out of glass and into the waiting room of Bright Vision Eye Clinic.

--

Jongin shifted uneasily as he sat on one of the beige leather couches in Kyungsoo’s office. The ophthalmologist had taken him to his office again—directly from the waiting room this time, to Jongin’s surprise—and the taller male had no idea what to expect. Kyungsoo hadn’t said much before they had entered the room, only directing the artist to the couch before stepping to his desk to grab several items. Jongin was still waiting as the ophthalmologist rooted around one of his desk cabinets for whatever he was looking for.

“My apologies for making you wait, Mr. Kim,” Dr. Do said as he straightened up and shut the bottom left desk drawer with his foot. His arms were full as he carefully turned, trying not to drop anything, while he gingerly reached for his onyx ring on his desk. “It’s been quite some time since I last administered the test you’re about to take.”

“It’s fine,” the artist answered monotonously.

Kyungsoo paused to stare at the back of the other male’s head for several seconds before walking over to the other couch and gently setting everything down on the cinnamon cherry wood table that stood between the two couches. Once the whole lot was placed safely on the table, he started up his laptop and keyed in the password, one-handed again, while using his other hand to flip open Kim Jongin’s medical file. The ophthalmologist then moved the electronic device onto the couch cushion next to him, pushing it against the back of the couch to keep it from accidentally falling. After picking up a black ballpoint pen, Kyungsoo made several notes on Jongin’s file before closing it and placing it under his laptop to prevent it from falling as well.

It wasn’t until he picked up his ring and slid it onto his right pinky finger that the ophthalmologist said, “You can open that now.” He jutted his chin in the direction of the large slate gray briefcase that was sitting on the table.

“Okay.” Jongin leaned forward to undo the clasps and then pushed back the lid of the case to reveal four long, black plastic trays filled with one hundred colorful caps altogether. “What’s this?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion before quickly averting his gaze from the caps. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, but the artist wasn’t sure whether it was due to fear or anticipation.

“This is the Farnsworth-Munsell one hundred hue test,” Dr. Do introduced as he also shifted forward. “There’s also an electronic version of this test, but I prefer to use the physical set since computer screens can affect how the test-taker views the displayed colors. That’s also why I administered a physical version of the Ishihara test last time, instead of the electronic version. And speaking of the Ishihara test, you passed it with flying colors,” Jongin narrowed his eyes at the choice of words, but kept quiet as the ophthalmologist continued, “so with any other patient, I would have left it at that and said their color vision is normal. The results from your blood test and your retinal examination also indicate that nothing is physically wrong with you.”

“But I know—”

“Yes, Mr. Kim, you’ve made that very clear during our previous appointments,” Dr. Do cut in before the artist could further escalate the conversation. “That’s why we’re now trying this test, since it might give us more insight regarding your specific problem. You mentioned that color shades all look the same to you, correct?”

Jongin grunted in response, feeling somewhat peeved after being interrupted.

Having noticed Jongin’s disgruntled expression, the ophthalmologist’s voice softened as he said, “The Farnsworth-Munsell one hundred hue test will check your ability to perceive different shades within the same color group. In the right environment, this test should be fairly accurate in discerning whether or not you have a color disability.”

“That’s what you said about the Ishihara test, but it was a giant waste of time and we didn’t learn anything from it,” the artist bitterly pointed out, unable to reign in his irritation.

“I am a bit perplexed as to why that was the case,” Dr. Do admitted, “but that is why we don’t necessarily rely solely on one test for an answer. It will take you much longer to complete this test than it did when you were taking the Ishihara test. But I do have about an hour until my next patient arrives, so feel free to take your time. There’s no need to rush.”

“Thank you,” Jongin answered in a clipped tone as he grudgingly looked down at the four black trays. “So how do I do this?”

The ophthalmologist reached over to rotate the briefcase so that he could also see the caps in the trays and then pointed to the top tray, which was filled with caps ranging from red shades to yellow shades that were randomly mixed up. “You’ll organize the caps from red,” he pointed to the fixed cap on the left side, “to yellow.” Dr. Do also tapped the rightmost cap as he said, “Don’t move these. They are your controls.”

“I have to do that for all of these?” Jongin asked incredulously, gesturing to the remaining three trays that resembled other color gradients.

“Yes. I know it may seem a bit tedious, but you also have the freedom to change your answers as you see fit. Just because you place a cap in a certain place doesn’t mean you have to commit to that answer right away. If you want to change your mind as you’re organizing the caps, go right ahead. When you feel like you’ve placed all of the caps where they belong, you are free to leave. I will score the test after my last patient leaves today and relay the results to you at our next appointment.” Dr. Do sent the artist a warm smile as he rotated the briefcase back so that it was facing Jongin again. “You can start whenever you’re ready, Mr. Kim. And you can also take the trays out of the case, if that will make it easier for you. However, please focus on one tray at a time to avoid accidentally mixing up the caps with the wrong set.”

“Sure thing,” Jongin mumbled before taking a deep breath and pulling the red-yellow gradient tray towards him. He scrutinized the caps, trying to see if he could detect the subtle distinctions between each cap color. At the very least, he could somewhat tell that the leftmost red cap was different from the rightmost yellow cap. It was a slightly comforting thought, knowing he was able to distinguish the primary colors from each other.

But when he looked more closely, picking up two random caps from the tray to compare them with each other, his heart sank to his stomach as he realized that they looked exactly the same to him. It was like he was reliving that earth-shattering afternoon in Paris all over again, when he hadn’t been able to differentiate the amber paint from the gamboge paint.

He grabbed another cap and flicked his gaze between the two already in his hand with the new cap, but there was still no difference. Jongin couldn’t tell if they were saffron or goldenrod, vermilion or marigold, or cinnabar or cerise.

Even so, he tried his best to soldier through and meticulously stared at each cap. Perhaps the lack of sunlight streaming through the windows was messing with his vision. Jongin moved his hand up, trying to cast as much of the weak light filtering through the white curtains onto the caps that he was currently holding, but it was to no avail.

Every hue looked one and the same.

And this went on and on and on, no matter how many caps he picked up.

By the time he had looked through the fourth tray, in an attempt to focus on something else and avoid being bogged down by one color gradient for too long whenever he felt his irritation mount higher than before, the artist wanted to tear out his hair and scream at the top of his lungs, because this was so hard. The Ishihara test had been a piece of cake, but this…

This was absolute torture.

In fact, it was nearly impossible. Everything looked identical and this caused Jongin to second-guess every choice he made as he neurotically organized the caps in the four trays. He could feel his soul being erased, bit by bit, while his eyes strained as much as they could to identify the colors of the caps. It was like he was trapped in a maze and every turn he made led to a dead-end. All he could do was back-track and try again, but that meant he wasn’t progressing any further than he had at the start.

It was just as painful for Kyungsoo to watch, as an observer. He could tell how frustrated Jongin was becoming as the artist inspected the caps with a frenzied gaze, his hands slightly shaking with terror and aggravation. Whenever Jongin made a mistake and placed two obviously dissimilar caps next to each other, as if they were one shade apart from the other, Kyungsoo couldn’t help but wince. It was even more tragic when Jongin would be on the right trajectory, but then suddenly change his mind and swap the correct cap for one that was glaringly unrelated.

This happened with all four trays. It made no difference whether the color gradient being tested was red to yellow, yellow to blue, blue to purple, or purple to red.

Jongin struggled with every single row, agonizing over every cap he picked up and stared at.

Time passed at an alarmingly fast rate, which Kyungsoo noted as he looked at the gold-plated watch wrapped around his left wrist. The hour was almost up, but Jongin didn’t seem to be close to finishing the test anytime soon. Even though the ophthalmologist wanted to continue letting Jongin try, he knew he had to prepare for the arrival of his next patient. It usually took fifteen minutes on average for someone to complete the Farnsworth-Munsell one hundred hue test, so Kyungsoo had already given the artist more than enough time to organize the colored caps. At this point, if Jongin hadn’t finished this task, he most likely wouldn’t, even with more time.

Perhaps it would have been smarter to give the artist a condensed version of the test, which was the Farnsworth-Munsell D15 color vision test that was comprised of only fifteen caps rather than the one hundred caps that Jongin was currently losing his sanity over.

After awkwardly clearing his throat to get the other male’s attention, Dr. Do clasped his hands together and stared straight into Jongin’s distress-filled eyes. “I apologize for interrupting, Mr. Kim, but we have to wrap up within the next five minutes. My next patient is due to arrive very soon, so please make your final decision regarding the caps’ placement.”

“You never seem to have a problem with making me wait though,” the artist immediately lashed out, his right fist curling around the purple—or perhaps it was blue—cap that he had been comparing to the one he had placed in the middle of the bottommost tray about three minutes ago. The round edges dug into his palm, hard enough to leave an angry red imprint against his skin, but he didn’t register the pain at all. Not when his mind was overwhelmed with despair.

Kyungsoo didn’t attempt to make a rebuttal and stayed silent instead, a sad expression painting his youthful features. About a minute passed, neither of the two males saying anything, before the ophthalmologist kindly repeated, “Please use the next few minutes to finish placing the caps where you think they belong in their respective spectrum, Mr. Kim.”

Seeing that he had no choice, the artist began aimlessly putting the caps back on the trays. He didn’t bother making an effort to see whether he was placing them correctly or not. His brain was tired, his eyes were tired, and he frankly didn’t care about this anymore.

It was too exhausting to care when Jongin knew he had failed the test anyway.

“I will score your answers this afternoon. Thank you for coming, Mr. Kim. Have a great rest of your day,” Dr. Do said, smiling encouragingly at the defeated artist. “I’ll see you in two weeks with your results.”

Jongin didn’t respond and listlessly stood up from the beige leather couch, feeling as gloomy as the stormy rain clouds that were gathering in the dark sky.

♈♈♈

A/N: I participated in NaNoWriMo this year, which was something I wanted to do for a long time but never had the time for. Luckily, I finally had some free time this past November to focus solely on this story and I now have a decently solid plan of the first quarter of this story. I've also decided that this monster story will be 200 chapters long! Yes, it sounds crazy, but we've got a lot of colors to go through and so much of Jongin's growth to explore. This might be the most slowburn story you'll ever read, but I believe it'll be worth it! And I'm determined to finish this story, even if it takes me forever. So please stay with me if you can! Thank you so much for being patient with me! I really appreciate it! Subscribe, comment, and/or upvote if you're enjoying the story so far! Have a lovely day and see you next time with a brand new chapter!