Crouched beside the trunk of a sprawling tree, Hongbin was hiding behind his camera. Framed in the sights were two women sitting on a park bench; one arm draped across the back of the bench and a head tilting against a shoulder. His finger came down onto the button as the phone in his pocket buzzed with a call.

“Hello?” Hongbin’s heart rattled against his chest, he thought his voice might have quavered slightly but tried to pretend nothing had happened. The camera in his hands was quivering slightly so he set it back into its bag carefully.

“Hongbin?” Hyuk’s voice was slightly frantic. “Something happened today. Wonshik had an interview and it was a disaster. If he comes to you can you just text me, let me know where he is?”

Hongbin’s heart faltered, tripping over itself and plummeting to the ground.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, sure.” His voice was definitely strange now. “Is everything OK?”

He placed his hand over his eyes and clenched them tight. A cringe crept along his spine.  

“Yeah, he just flew off the handle again. I think I know where he’s gone. But I just want to make sure.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Hongbin’s hand slid over his cheek and stopped over his heart. “Of course. If I hear anything I’ll text you.”

“Thanks.” He sounded so relieved Hongbin couldn’t help but smile to himself. “I’ve gotta go, N is calling me. Thanks again, Bean.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Hongbin wished he didn’t sound so pathetic as he spoke but Hyuk was already hanging up and gone. He laid his phone down and slumped backwards onto the lawn beneath him. His creativity had drowned beneath a wave of sadness.

The sun was disappearing, painting the sky pink and gold as Ravi turned the engine off and took a few deep breaths. He glanced at the meek blue cottage, inner cheek held firmly between his teeth. With a tired sigh he opened the door and got out, leaving his phone on the floor of the passenger footbay.

The grass was cool and still as crazed as ever as he walked through it to reach the porch. What would he say to Ken? How could he possibly explain?

He knocked on the door and waited, eyes falling to his hands naturally as he continued to wonder where his life was leading him.

The anger had long burnt itself out, now just ashes and embers in his chest. The worst part was; he could believe the audacity of the journalist. He should have been expecting an underhanded tactic like that. He would now dread the next month's article, in which he would undoubtedly be painted as a tempestuous, tortured artist. He was. However, he didn’t particularly want it printed. He was sure Hyuk could take care of it, put the best spin possible on it, but it still left seeds of anxiety in him. They were buried right down to his toes, only set to grow through the rest of him over time.

Ravi gave a sigh and rubbed his eyes. Ken was taking an unusually long time to answer his knock. He always took a long time, but this was growing ridiculous. His stomach dropped as he remembered the last time he had been here; the episode, the drunken state, the strange connection between them. He hadn’t stopped to think of that before coming. He had simply jumped in his car and headed to the only place he knew would calm him and the agonising emotions that surged through his soul.

Feeling like a fool he turned, ready to flee the porch and the mountain town.

“Hello,” Ken was standing in the gate, arms laden with a bag and an easel. His eyes were covered with dark glasses, it was impossible to tell what his reaction to Ravi actually was.

“I…” Ravi’s voice failed. He what? He was just leaving? He was just in the neighbourhood?

“Are you ok?” Ken kicked the gate open softly and crossed the grass to set his things on the wood. He looked up at Ravi through his glasses, face still unreadable.

“Uh,” Ravi’s face twitched a little and he plonked himself onto the edge of the porch clumsily. Ken turned to sit beside him, the easel cutting a clear divide between them.

“Sorry I wasn’t home,” Ken’s voice was light, but not the usual happiness Ravi was growing used to. “I should show you where my spare key is.”

They lapsed into silence, watching the sky change.

“I had this interview today…” The words began pouring themselves from his chest, Ravi surprised himself as he began to tell Ken of his day. The other man listened in silence, eyes fixed to the sky and nodding along to show he was listening. When Ravi’s voice petered out relief replaced the darkness inside, he sighed and leant back on his hands. The sky was bruised purple and the crickets had begun their calling. Ken remained silent for another long moment.

“It’s horrible,” His voice was soft, like a silken scarf of calm. “The way they treat you like that.”

Ravi let a strained smile flicker over his lips as he glanced at Ken. The other man was still staring at the sky.

“Kind of cruel the way they think your pain is for sale.” He spoke again, finally slipping the glasses away and folding them. “Did you let your friends know you made it here?” He turned his profound stare onto Ravi.

“Not… yet.”

“You should. They’ll be worrying.” Ken seemed to freeze for a moment before bursting into activity. He stood and climbed onto the veranda properly, taking up the easel and bag. “Come in when you’re ready. I’ll put dinner on.”

Ravi watched him pad away, shuffling out of his shoes and slipping into the house. Beneath his own newfound calm he wondered what had changed in Ken. Something was different. Perhaps their last encounter had altered their relationship somehow, perhaps Ravi should have stayed away. His eyes lingered on the door one more moment before he stood and shuffled back to the car.

Edith Piaf’s voice crooned through the hall. Ravi’s serenity barely blipped with the vivid memory of his mother that rode along the familiar voice. He pushed into the kitchen. Ken was not, as he had expected, at the bench already cooking and singing along. He was standing before the windows, watching the trees fade in the twilight. Ravi’s feet took him to Ken’s side, eyes on the trees as well.

Ken pointed, arm moving slowly to show Ravi what he was fixated on.

A small, slender fox was slipping through the undergrowth. It paused and stared at the two of them for what could have been mere moments or an eternity. The magic of a French songstress swirling around them and opening all sorts of impossibilities in Ravi’s mind as they stood watching the fox together.

“Are you OK?” Ravi asked, giving a shy chuckle as he finished the question.

Ken’s mouth pursed. Ravi knew he wouldn’t answer, but his silence was an answer in and of itself.

“I’m OK.” Ken spoke, smiling at Ravi’s surprise. “Are you?”