Hongbin seemed to glitter slightly, his smile so radiant that it gave Ravi the sensation of iridescence. He could feel that smile in his own heart, a heart full of stitches and scars, but colours smiling through it all. Hongbin led the way from the elevator and into a blank hall of the building.

“I’m so happy for you,” Ravi’s voice was quiet but hung heavy in the silent hallway.

“Thank you.” The smile seemed to be fading now, shifting into something more profound. Something dense and solemn. “I hope you understand.”

Ravi nodded, unsure of what Hongbin was even talking about but determined to support his oldest friend. He had been absent for too long. Caught in his own pain and self-importance, he had missed watching Hongbin grow into this even more amazing person. He had missed watching Hyuk sink into a pit of monotony until the very moment before he was lost all together. He wondered what else he had missed during his egocentric descent into tragedy and despair.

The card reader flashed green and Hongbin pushed into the studio, holding the door wide for Ravi.

His own face was staring back at him. Or something that resembled him in a crushed and empty way. Searing hate burned though his heart so suddenly that he grabbed at his chest without realising. A faint scent of paint hit him, brought on by his own grief in the photograph.

Ravi stumbled forward, coming to stand directly before himself. His knees bent and he was left slumped before the photograph as though it were an altar of worship. The burn in his heart was crawling through his throat and spilling from the corners of his eyes. It dripped to the floor, the soft patter of falling tears the only sound in the room.

Vision blurring and heart tearing through stitches, he looked to the portrait beside his own.

Hyuk. Their Hyuk. Eyes so deep in their sockets they almost disappeared, skin sallow and waxy. The toll of the loss was clear in his features.

More tears dripped from Ravi’s chin and onto the floor as he tried to remember seeing Hyuk look like that. He had no memories. There was nothing but darkness.

A warm arm came around his shoulders and Ravi heaved a heavy sigh. He wiped at the tears only to have fresh ones replace them.

“I’m sorry,” Hongbin spoke softly, kneeling beside Ravi and leaning his weight into the other.

“They’re…” Ravi’s hand was still clutching his chest, he rubbed a moment willing the stitches to tighten and the flood of aching grief to recede once more. “They’re really beautiful,” He managed to whisper.

“Thank you,” Hongbin let his eyes move from Ravi to the portraits and back. “It’s called Grief. And… I just…”

A shroud of carefully unspoken and avoided things released into the air overhead. The clear light of the studio seeming to illuminate each one before they dissipated.

“I just needed something to help me let her go,” Hongbin’s words were soft. “She… left too soon. She didn’t even say goodbye.” His voice was breaking beneath the weight. “I needed her to tell me I could do it.”

“Me too,” Ravi’s voice was a rasp.

“I miss her so much.” With the words Hongbin seemed to lose the rest of his strength and slumped against Ravi heavily. “Chasing Hyuk, doing this… It was all a great distraction. But I just miss her so much.”

“Me too,” Ravi sniffled, letting his head rest against Hongbin’s. “I’m sorry I thought I was the only one she meant anything to. I’m sorry I acted like I was the only one who had lost her.” Fresh tears tracked to the floor and Ravi rolled his eyes with resignation at them.

The soft hush of their breath and the faintest hint of traffic noise settled over them, the air finally clear now. They sat in the peace, eyes tracing the intricacies of the photographs.

“I think my favourite portrait is yours,” Ravi’s voice was even again. The tears were beginning to dry and itch at his cheeks.

Hongbin snorted and moved to stand. His knees snapped and cracked as he climbed back to his full height and moved around the room. Ravi turned to compare the portrait to the subject, smile slowly spreading.

“Maybe I have agoraphobia now,” Ken said, arms crossed over his chest as he sat in the passenger seat of Ravi’s car. “Did you ever think of that? I had a trauma, you know.

“You live in a wide open space.” Ravi shot back, glancing at Ken from the corner of his eye.

The passenger was staring out the window, dark glasses covering his eyes and mulish set to his mouth. He flicked his phone between his fingers and arm, legs shifting into a new position ever few moments. Ravi smiled a little and laid a hand on Ken’s.

“What are you really worried about?” He was more than a little proud of himself for spotting Ken’s distress. He was definitely getting better at being a decent person.

There was a prolonged silence, the noise of the road and quiet beat from the radio hardly breaking it.

“God, Ravi, if you don’t know I’m not telling.” Ken turned sharply away, legs crossing as well as his arms now.

Ravi’s pride derailed and crashed into a tree, crumpling and screeching to a spectacular wreck. His mouth opened and closed like a fish as he tried to find anything to say.

Ken’s face turned back to him, a Cheshire grin on his face.

Ravi fought a battle between intense irritation and strange adoration as Ken grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to it.

“That really wasn’t funny,” He settled for somewhere in between both emotions. “Really not funny.” He tried to drag his hand out of Ken’s halfheartedly.

“I’m sorry,” Ken kissed the fingers again before releasing them. “I’m sorry.” He was still grinning and Ravi rolled his eyes.

His lips twitching with amusement, he tried to focus on driving.

N couldn’t really remember why he had started to avoid Hongbin’s calls. He had a reason at the time, but that was more than a few days ago. Now, so much time had passed that it was easier to avoid the calls and conversation than try to explain that he had no reason for avoiding him, he just was.

The river was pungent with the tag end of summer heat pulling the moisture from the banks. Murky brown and turbid, the water seemed a fitting friend for someone like him. He sat beneath an umbrella on the deck, piano and cliche saxophone piping through the nearby speakers. It was too early in the afternoon for the actual musicians to be playing, or anyone else to be in the place really. The only other patrons were a couple of women in suits with briefcases and paperwork, a lonely looking old man at the bar and a sweet couple sitting in the corner by the door to the deck.

N stared at his wine. Perhaps he should get help. The thought had been floating through his head more and more often lately. It had prompted him to take a holiday from work; a starting point he had told himself. A starting point for what? More time alone in his apartment. More time to let the tearing thoughts eat away at him. More time to find reasons to avoid his friends and drink.

Tomorrow he would have to face up to at least a little bit of reality. As much as he wanted to skip it, stay home and dive deeper into his pit of despair, he knew if he skipped Hongbin’s exhibition there would be serious consequences. Consequences was his least favourite word.

He was surrounded by art. It lined every wall in a deliberate manner, all perfectly straight and clean. But it was also standing in the middle of the room, hand casually resting on it’s chin as it carried out an in-depth discussion with Naseema Mettinger. Hyuk’s smile was small and indulgent as he watched.

The conversation was expressive, expansive as the pa