Sometimes, for brief moments before reality closed in once more, Ken felt he could see colour again.

He was standing at the windows, staring blankly at the sea of trees outside and remembering the feeling of green. Green was calm, but full of life and energy. Green was waxy leaves or slender stalks. The trunks would be a deep brown, strong and steady.

A sigh escaped as he realised that there was no green or brown. Only grey. After another long moment, another futile attempt to bring back his sense of peace, he turned away and returned to his studio.

Ravi was gone but there was still work to be done. The canvases that covered the far wall were all rough, wild brush- and incohesive blendings. He smiled as he examined them. Rough and wild was good, raw potential in each one becoming more refined the more he painted. Humming a little he clicked the stereo in the corner to play and sank into shades of grey once more.

Doubt and hope flittered and mixed uncomfortably in Hongbin’s stomach as a woman made slow progress through the studio. He had towered over her as she had stepped through the door, but now she held an energy that made him shrink. Her measured steps resounding through the heavy silence. It was impossible to read her.

She turned to shoot an intense look at Hongbin before turning away once more and examining the main pieces of his work. He kept his eyes locked to the soft falls of fabric that covered her hair and shoulders, picking out each shift in the shades of mauve. His fingers itched to photograph it but he remained still and silent.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever met you in person before, Mr Lee,” Her voice was strong and neutral. When she turned to look at him again, the expression was of polite interest and nothing more.

“I believe I met you briefly in 2012.” Hongbin surprised himself with how calm his voice emerged. “The Stanny Epillion exhibition at your gallery.”

“Oh.” She smiled lightly, the intensity not fading from her dark eyes. “Yes. Stanny used you as a subject?”

“She did.” There was something revealing about those eyes. He felt his very consciousness was being undressed and examined as she looked at him.

“So you’re making the transition from in front of the camera to behind?” She was standing on an angle, watching him with a slight tilt to her head as her body faced the test strips all over the wall.

“I’ve always wanted to.” Hongbin nodded. He wanted to stop there but something in the way she seemed to be waiting for him made him continue speaking. “I’ve always wanted to be more than a pretty picture. I want to show the world something more than just perfection and beauty. Or really…”

She was turned to face him properly now, the full magnitude of her interest fuelling his voice.

“I want to show that there is beauty in anything. Beauty in hardship and grief. I want to help those that are suffering.”

His eyes flickered over the portraits behind her and he let a little sigh out.

“I want to show that life is still beautiful even when it’s so painful you want to give up.”

“Do you want to sell your art?” There was a smile hiding in the corners of but not reaching her eyes.

“I do.” He nodded slowly. “But only to know that others can find some healing in the art too.”

She nodded slowly, the fabric framing her face rippling like water. “And what about when you aren’t a tortured soul any longer?”

A grin creased his face. “Aren’t artists always tortured?”

The smile hiding in the corners of broke over her face like a wave, a small, delighted laugh breaking through.

“But in all honesty, I’ve been photographing the beautiful moments in life since before I was directly affected. I just… never had a starting point before. I never had something that gave me the motivation to be serious about it.”

“And you’re serious now?”

“I am.”

The smile lit up her eyes and Hongbin let a small amount of relief escape.

“You come highly recommended.” Her deep plum lips pursed for a moment. “I was told quite explicitly I was an idiot if I let you slip by.”

Hongbin’s eyes widened and his relief faltered.

“I don’t usually take other people’s opinions very seriously. I prefer to see and judge for myself. But I think this time they were right.” She turned to cast an eye over the captivating portraits once more. “Why don’t you come down to the gallery tomorrow and we can talk dates and numbers?”

“I’d love to.” He beamed at her.

“Thank you, Mr Lee.” She nodded and stepped back to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded in reply and showed her out, unable to keep the smile from his face as he shut the door behind her.

Leo smiled lightly as he accepted his coffee from the barista and turned to continue back into the sunshine outside. The light hit his eyes, dazzling him before he slipped his glasses down once more. Before he could take a step, his phone rang. A small noise of surprise eked out before he answered it.

“Hello?” He began, raising his voice to get over the traffic noise a little. “What’s the emergency? Are you OK?”

“Yes,” Ken’s voice was snappy. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because you never call me.” Leo teased, smiling to the street as a sunshine warmth glowed inside as well.

“Don’t be mean to me.”

He gave a small laugh and sipped his coffee.

“I’m calling to see how you are.” Ken spoke again.

“I’m good. I’m out getting caffeine and heading over to meet a prospective commission.”

“You’re always busy,” Ken’s voice was equal parts proud and jealous. “I should have gone into portraiture.”

“But your colour expression was always too radical for regular portraits. You were born into abstraction.”

“Was that a compliment?” Ken pondered as Leo grinned and walked. “Anyway! I was also calling to tell you that my work is coming along nicely. I’m actually happy with a fair bit of it now.”

“I’m glad.” The grin softened with his voice. “When can I come and see it?”

“How about this week?” Ken’s reply was so immediate and enthusiastic Leo choked a little on his coffee.

“What?” His voice was strangled as he fought to swallow properly.

“Are you too busy this week?” There was a sly note creeping through the phone and Leo’s eyes narrowed.

“What got into you?” Leo asked.

“What? I’m just seeing if you want to come and visit.”

“Yeah, except you’ve been a hermit for months and suddenly I’m allowed into the lonely artist garret?”

“I think writers have garrets. Artists have studios.”

Leo huffed and shook his head.

“I’ll see you this weekend, depending on how this meeting goes.”

“Cool,” Ken’s voice betrayed his excitement. “I’ll see you this weekend.”