Yixing happily hummed a simple ditty while he sat on the couch in the living room and folded freshly laundered clothes. He had already finished the batch of black clothing, neatly separated into three piles with Jongin’s significantly dwarfing the other two. Right now, the manager was working on the batch of blue clothing, most of which was his own. The final batch of colored clothing—minus the reds, which he planned to hand-wash the next day—was currently in the dryer. There were still fifteen minutes left on the machine, so Yixing took his time and folded each article of clothing with the utmost care.

Dinner had passed without a hitch earlier, to the manager’s relief, although conversation between Jongin and Jongdae was still strained. Yixing, as usual, had done most of the talking to keep the atmosphere relatively light.

As soon as they could, both Kim brothers had escaped to their respective bedrooms, leaving Yixing to clean up the dining table and wash the dishes by himself. Admittedly, it would’ve been nice to have someone with him while he did the chores, mostly to converse with, but the manager didn’t let their absence faze him too much.

He continued singing to himself, keeping his mind occupied while his hands busily moved. The night was young and once he finished organizing the last load of this week’s laundry, he could relax and start reading the new fantasy novel that he had spontaneously picked up from a bookstore during his most recent errands run.

Yes, life was good, in spite of Jongin and Jongdae’s ongoing cold war.

As he delicately placed a folded button-up shirt onto his growing pile of clothes, Yixing’s ears suddenly perked up when he heard the telltale sound of a door opening from the second floor. It was unusual for either brother to leave the refuge of their own bedroom after dinner, so the manager wondered who it was and why he had emerged.

His question was soon answered with the appearance of Jongin who was dressed in a thin black coat over a burgundy red shirt and gray pants. The artist headed directly for the entrance of the house and slipped on his shoes while taking his key ring out of his coat pocket.

“Where are you going?” Yixing called out, his laundry folding paused as he looked curiously at Jongin.

“Out for a walk,” the artist curtly replied.

Yixing furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “This late? Are you sure you don’t want to wait until tomorrow?”

“No, I’m going now.”

Hearing the finality in the other male’s voice, Yixing knew not to press any further. “Alright, just make sure you don’t stay out too late. Come back home before midnight, okay?” That should give the artist ample time to clear his head of whatever was bothering him at the moment.

“Okay, see you later.” With that, Jongin was out the door and it clicked shut behind him a second later.

--

The artist soon found himself at the top of a grassy hill, not unlike the one that he and Kyungsoo had visited a week ago after he had fought with Jongdae. It had taken some time to trek up the knoll, especially since there weren’t many lights around. There were several instances when he almost tripped over large rocks in his path, since it was too dark to see much of anything, and Jongin cursed out loud each time he unexpectedly went off-kilter.

His black leather Oxford dress shoes were probably all dirty and scuffed up by now. Granted, it wasn’t the smartest idea he’d had to wear them on a mini hike, but the artist didn’t own any athletic shoes that he could've worn instead. Perhaps it was time to invest in a pair, if these spontaneous night hikes were going to become a regular occurrence. At the very least, he could visit Hyukjae at the main subway terminal and ask him to shine his Oxfords again.

Hopefully Park Chanyeol wasn’t there the next time he went. Jongin grimaced as he sat down cross-legged and envisioned the talkative guitarist coming up to him, yapping his ear off, especially now that they had a mutual acquaintance in Kyungsoo. That would be an absolute nightmare.

Luckily, the likelihood of bumping into Park Chanyeol again was low, as long as the artist was more cognizant about when he planned to visit Hyukjae. Last time, Jongin had gone to the main subway terminal in the late afternoon when people were commuting from work to home before dinner. That was most likely why the guitarist had been there then; hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people entered and exited the terminal which meant his music was exposed to that many people in just one busking session. Even if only a fraction of them actually listened to Chanyeol’s set, that was still a substantial audience that could one day propel the guitarist to stardom if an agent or talent scout happened to be one of those people.

But Jongin wasn’t, so it wouldn’t hurt Chanyeol’s future if the artist purposely avoided him from now on. At any rate, that was how Jongin rationalized it, even though he knew it was mostly to absolve himself of any guilt for not doing more to support the poor musician when he had the capacity to.

He remembered how earnest Chanyeol had been, asking for feedback on his performance, and how surprised he had looked when Jongin had handed him the two fifty thousand won bills. How his eyes had lit up like fireworks when he realized that Jongin meant to give him that much money, that it wasn’t a joke or a mistake.

Well, that was the best that Jongin could do for the guitarist. He had basically given Chanyeol the equivalent amount of a concert ticket. It would be foolishly avaricious for the other man to desire more from a mere civilian, especially when he had yet to showcase that he really deserved that much money for one busking performance.

Besides, there were other musicians who could benefit from Jongin’s generosity if they happened to perform while Hyukjae shined his shoes. Park Chanyeol wasn’t the only musician who ever came to the main subway terminal, hoping to draw a crowd with his talent. He was one of dozens of hopefuls putting themselves out there, waiting and wishing for the right people to discover them.

It was too bad that such an opportunity most likely wouldn’t present itself to Park Chanyeol anytime soon. The market was oversaturated with musicians like him who could more or less carry a tune while strumming a guitar. The man just wasn’t special enough. Talented, perhaps, but definitely not special by any means.

Jongin mildly wondered how long Chanyeol had worked towards becoming a successful, renowned musician. During their heart-to-heart the previous week, Kyungsoo had mentioned that his best friend had started seriously chasing his dream in university after begging his parents to let him pursue a music degree, which they had reluctantly agreed to on the condition that he attended a school of their choosing. That meant, assuming Chanyeol was around his age since he didn’t look all that much older—Jongin quickly calculated the time in his head—the guitarist had been trying to break into the industry for around fifteen years, give or take a year or two.

How exhausting.

Especially since the man had nothing much to show for it in the end.

Jongin involuntarily shuddered as he imagined himself in that position, constantly painting for spare change while not knowing if he’d ever enjoy the fruits of his labor.

What a frightening situation.

He didn’t know how Park Chanyeol had managed to persist for this long and still wear that goofy smile, as if he weren’t slaving away day after day and living paycheck to paycheck.

And he didn’t know if he should praise the guitarist for his perseverance or write him off as an idealistic idiot for wasting so much time on something he’d probably never achieve, especially if he hadn’t by now.

Not that it really mattered to Jongin in the grand scope of things.

Park Chanyeol was just a stranger.

A stranger that he now grudgingly had a link to, but a stranger nonetheless.

Jongin audibly blew air through his mouth before laying down, flat on his back. It had begun to ache from how long he had been sitting, slightly hunched over, as he stewed in his thoughts. The artist wiggled around, trying to find the most comfortable spot on the ground, while also not caring that he would most likely get grass stains all over his clothes. All he had to do was toss them in the laundry hamper when he returned home and they’d be impeccably clean within days, courtesy of Yixing. The artist could roll around in a pile of mud—not that he’d ever want to, but that was beside the point—and Yixing would have his clothes perfectly laundered, looking like fresh new clothes out of an advertisement. A bit of grass wouldn’t hurt at all, even though his manager would most likely sigh and ask Jongin why he hadn’t at least taken a picnic blanket with him to minimize the damage.

As he gazed at the blindingly bright full moon and the twinkling stars surrounding the round astronomical body in the inky black sky, Jongin was suddenly reminded of Kyungsoo speaking about his ex-boyfriend, Ok Taecyeon, and the photographer’s love for anything related to outer space.

The artist hadn’t thought about Kyungsoo’s ex-boyfriend since their conversation on the hill a week ago. And Jongin frowned, somewhat annoyed that his mind had drifted onto a topic that he had no desire to entertain, especially after already uselessly expending so much brain power on Park Chanyeol.

He began trying to think of different things, anything that would drive Ok Taecyeon and his prior relationship with Kyungsoo out of Jongin’s head.

He tried thinking about Sehun’s upcoming photo shoots for several high fashion magazine spreads that the model was going to be featured in. But that only reminded him of the disastrous weekend at the warehouse with Jongdae and his boss.

He tried thinking about all of the various Korean dishes that Yixing had made since their return to Seoul. But that only reminded him of home, which he had escaped from in the first place due to the environment exacerbating his already suffocating thoughts.

He tried thinking about the open pottery class that he had taken more than two months ago. But that only reminded him of how much he had failed as an artist, of how useless his color vision was. And that was the absolute last rabbit hole he wanted to fall into.

It was to no avail.

With everything else that he was trying to avoid, Jongin's mind kept inevitably wandering back to Kyungsoo’s ex-boyfriend. So the artist finally surrendered and allowed his frustrating thoughts to run free.

He wondered what kind of person Ok Taecyeon was to capture Do Kyungsoo’s heart. It was…strange to think of the ophthalmologist in a relationship, much less in love with someone. Not that Kyungsoo didn’t deserve to love or be loved, but Jongin couldn’t wrap his head around the image of Kyungsoo tenderly holding hands with someone else or staring lovingly into another person’s eyes.

It was easy to see the ophthalmologist getting along with others as friends, smiling and laughing as one typically did with close companions. But being in love? Jongin couldn’t imagine it at all.

And then he wondered if Kyungsoo was still in love with Ok Taecyeon.

It was highly probable, considering how the ophthalmologist continued to wear the onyx ring given him to by his ex-boyfriend. Jongin recalled Kyungsoo saying that it was supposed to be a promise ring. There was a chance that the ophthalmologist was still holding onto that promise, holding onto the hope that Ok Taecyeon would return to Seoul one day after completing his world-wide travels. And then the two could reignite their past relationship and live happily ever after like they had initially planned to.

After all, why else would Kyungsoo keep wearing the ring so openly? Even if their relationship had ended on good terms, the ophthalmologist still seemed to be affected by the break-up itself.

As much Kyungsoo had tried to shrug it off, saying that he wasn’t bothered at all, Jongin remembered how the smaller male’s usually smooth voice had shaken as he recounted his history with Ok Taecyeon. How his usually steady hands had trembled with nervous energy as he absentmindedly toyed with the onyx ring. How his usually kind, bright gaze had deadened as he relived what must have been an extremely low point in his life.

Break-ups were never easy, regardless if they were mutually agreed upon or well-intentioned or neither or even both.

Not that Jongin really knew what it was like to break up with someone, having never been in a relationship before, but he also wasn’t naïve.

He had witnessed friends experience devastating heartbreaks throughout university and beyond. He had helped several of them pick up the pieces of their shattered hearts and glue them back together again, doing their best to seal up the cracks as best as they could.

But just like a china plate, once something shattered, it would never be completely whole ever again. The fissures would always exist—jagged, uneven—as a lasting memory of what had led to the fracturing in the first place.

Jongin didn’t blame the ophthalmologist for holding onto his past, painful as it was to do so. Letting go was never easy, no matter the circumstances.

Was that why Kyungsoo seemed to pay no heed to any romantic advancements made towards him? Was it that he was so blinded by his previous relationship with Ok Taecyeon that he pointedly ignored how much others were flirting with him so that he didn’t lead them on while his heart still laid with his ex-boyfriend?

Or was Do Kyungsoo really just that clueless?

Jongin groaned loudly and rolled onto his side while closing his eyes. His brain was starting to hurt from conjuring so many hypotheticals about the owl-eyed ophthalmologist’s love life. The whole reason he had gone outside in the first place was to clear his head, not to cloud it even more. His quota for tolerating anything and everything had been filled to the brim after his eye appointment earlier that day, thanks to Kim Junmyeon’s exhausting appearance.

No, he couldn’t let himself fall into another trap. The moment he got himself started on mentally lambasting Kim Junmyeon, Jongin knew that he’d never stop.

The artist shifted onto his back again and randomly chose a star to focus his gaze on. Once his eyes were locked onto the glimmering light directly overhead, Jongin let his mind melt into a reflection of the night sky. Any invasive thoughts that he had were smothered by the enveloping darkness, keeping them safely at bay. Not too close, although not entirely extinguished either.

Just far enough to exist without drowning him.

♈♈♈

A/N: I hope you all are staying safe during this pandemic! Wash your hands, stay inside, practice social distancing, and keep your spirits up! It's a hard time for everyone, so please take care of your physical and mental health! Anyway, thank you so much for reading! Subscribe, comment, and/or upvote if you're enjoying this story so far! And if you'd like to join my crowdfund, I'd really appreciate the support! Have a lovely day and see you next time with a brand new chapter!