He was losing his colours. In an indifferent world, where the sea of stranger looked like a homogeneous mass making its way through life without a care for the few strays it kept of leaving behind all the way, he felt like he was losing his colours. How much time would it take for him to become black and white like everyone else? How long before he became one of them?

He knew crying would not help, nothing did, but he could not help but do. As he caught the salty tears in his hands, it was almost as if he could see the colours in them, getting washed away like the remnants of his courage, forced out by his growing disappointment and his unstoppable discouragement. Those were the days when he even wondered why he tried to tackle a task that, from the very beginning, was obviously way too heavy for him. He blamed the innocence of youth, the blindness of hope and the trusting eyes of those who somehow found enough faith in him to paint him with expectations.

He blamed all of it for having incredible dreams as beautiful as they were impossible, for having as much faith in himself as he had doubts, for trying to be different in a world that didn’t care.

He looked around at all the canvases decorated with bright reds, warm oranges, peaceful blues. He wondered if all of them had a meaning, because he could not remember; all he could see were mistakes, false hopes, horrendous manifestations of a hopeful mind that was starting to drown into nothingness. Anger replaced sadness with an unexpected quickness, still not wiping away the bitterness that made both of them unbearable, and he threw one of his paintings at the wall, where it collided with a crash before landing on some tins, the noise finally creating some of the mess that seemed to appease his mind. Chasing for a bit more of that sweet release, he threw another one, then another one. He looked at the yellow paint lazily flowing out of one of the tins that were knocked over and a small, bitter smirk made its way to his lips. He was just another knocked-over tin.

He threw a punch to the painting closest to him, tainting his hand with the warm red hues and the sparkling whites of a sunset on the sea. This one was still fresh. He looked as the destroyed canvas fell over and his breath caught in his throat when he noticed the silhouette facing the sea, the light pink hair. Regret washed over him as fast as anger had taken over and his back hit the wall, slowly sliding down until he was sitting with his head on his knees, sobbing quietly, back to the start.

All of this was because he was losing his colours.

He didn’t hear the door opening, but he heard the gasp that followed. He curled up onto himself a bit more if that was even possible. Not him. Not now. Not like this. Not after what he had done.

The few seconds of silence that followed felt like a deafening eternity. But the small whisper that came after, so full with hurt and too many colourful emotions for him to grasp, cut deep into him and he wondered why he was even there, on the floor, in this house, in this world.

“Soo…”

Quick footsteps approached him, his fear and disappointment increasing with every one of them, and when delicate hands landed on his shoulders, he immediately shook them off. However, those hands were stubborn.

“Kyungsoo!”

They touched his shoulders again, this time grabbing them and shaking them a little. He didn’t want this, didn’t want the other to drag him up again, not when it was only to dive down one more time. So this time, he didn’t push away the hands, but the whole body to which they belonged. He heard the owner of the hands fall over and looked up for the first time, another wave of regret coming over.

Baekhyun was on the floor, looking at him with the look that he regrettably knew so well by then, a mixture of sadness and determination, as always accompanied by a spark of helplessness. His hair was exactly the same shade of pink as in the painting he had just destroyed. He wanted to tell him to run away there and then, to never look back, not when Baekhyun was so colourful when he himself was struggling to keep away from the monochrome, only to be hopelessly in. The fear he was feeling, shaken up by all the anger, regret and helplessness, was so unbearable that he felt like going crazy.

However, Baekhyun would not leave, he knew it. And that was the best and the worst part of it all. So when Baekhyun kneeled before him and tried to hug him, he could not say he had not been expecting it. He pushed him away again, with less strength this time, because he had already hurt two Baekhyuns in the last couple of minutes.

“Kyungsoo, stop pushing me away, would you? Let me hug you, please…”

The pleading tone was enough for him to let the other in and comply to everything he said; it was enough of a reason to push him away and keep him at a safe distance – safer than this. He shook his head, didn’t push Baekhyun away when warm arms circled him once more, but didn’t stop shaking his head.

“Talk to me, Kyungsoo…”

He kept on shaking his head, the tears that had stopped when the other had walked in returning in silence. The only thing he could think of was how he loved this warmth that Baekhyun gave him, how he felt like he was going to die if it was ever taken away, but how much he hated it at the same time, because he knew that the other would feel just as much cold from him, because the other’s colours would get in as well. And the pink hair softly brushing his face was still the same as the one he had destroyed earlier. The words were growing in his throat, getting bigger and bigger, and as much as he hated them, it was alright to let them out because he hated himself more.

“Go away.” He hated just as much the pain that came along with his words. “I’m destroying you over and over again, Baekhyun.”

He wondered if that was his voice, if he was the one who had said those words, because as soon as they were out, he realized how much he didn’t want the other to listen to them. As much as he hated himself, as much as he hated the fact that he was dragging the other down with him, as much as he hated his own worthlessness, he could not do without Baekhyun’s hold. The sole idea of those arms going away terrified him so much that he had to remember how to breathe. He hated his weakness for gripping onto the soft material of the other’s t-shirt.

The arms didn’t go away and the hands started to draw reassuring patterns on his back, the actions slowly writing on his white skin that Baekhyun was there to stay.

“Shh… I’m not going anywhere, Soo, it’s okay.”

He wondered how it could be okay when he could feel the other’s tears silently falling on his shoulder, when he knew he was their cause. He wondered how it could ever be okay when he was slowly draining Baekhyun’s colours too, almost as if he had to take him down with him, to not fall alone. The arms around him moved, the body slowly moving away, and he panicked again.

“Soo…” He desperately clenched onto the other’s t-shirt, like a child terrified of losing his mother. “Kyungsoo, look at me.”

Those hands found his face, the thumbs so lightly caressing his cheeks and he found in the small gesture enough courage to look up through his foggy eyes. The other’s face was stained with tears, but still sported a smile, one of those that were sad yet reassuring, as if they knew that the pain was going to go away eventually, that the rain was only temporary.

“The only one you’re trying to destroy is yourself, Kyungsoo.”

He wanted to say that he was not trying, just like he was not trying to destroy Baekhyun but still did.

“Soo?”

He realized his eyes had trailed down, getting lost in the distance and he focused on the other’s face again.

“But I already told you, didn’t I? That I’d keep you together when you don’t manage to.”

Another smile, and Baekhyun dropped a small kiss on his forehead. It was all it took for Kyungsoo to hug him as close as he could, to hide his head in the crook of his neck and to cry loudly, letting out the sounds of pain that his silent, lone sobs didn’t let him express.

He had no idea how long they stayed like this, huddled up together with Baekhyun gently rubbing his back, but he was certain that the other’s knees and heart were probably hurting a lot by then. When the tears finally stopped and he let out deep, exhausted breaths, he finally looked up to meet that same smile. Without a word, his fingers traced the other’s features, as if they did not know them by heart already, to finally get lost into that soft pink hair. His voice came out raspy and as worn out as he felt, as his eyes didn’t leave the colourful threads.

“I can trust you, right?” His eyes found the ones in front of him again. “When you say it’s going to be okay. I can trust you, right?”

Baekhyun’s smile grew, gaining a bit more light. “Of course, Soo. I swear, it’s all going to be alright.” With that, he dropped another kiss, on his cheek this time.

Kyungsoo let out a deep breath, as if he had been holding it for long, way too long, maybe all this time. He looked at the beautiful person in front of him, the owner of the footsteps, of the hands, of the arms, of the reassuring warmth – Baekhyun, his Baekhyun. Kyungsoo did not know what he did to deserve such a beautiful person, but he was too selfish to let him go.

He cupped his lover’s face and reduced the distance between them to kiss him gently, slowly, as slowly as the colours were seeping out of him, out of them.

However, when they parted and Baekhyun hugged him tight and let out an ‘I love you’ filled with relieved tears but hopeful smiles and Kyungsoo replied a breathless ‘I love you too, Baekhyun. I love you so, so much’, he thought that maybe he was wrong. Maybe he wasn’t erasing Baekhyun’s colours; maybe Baekhyun’s colours were rubbing off on him, inexorably turning both of them into a single, unique, breathtaking masterpiece.

Author's note:

Hello there! Thank you for reading this nonesense! :)

I hope you enjoyed this oneshot. Please leave a comment to let me know what you thought of it, comments just make my days! <3

And again, don't forget to check the artist's DeviantArt, since this picture really inspired me.