“Yoseob, slow down!” Dongwoon shouted after his almost running friend, hand running through his hair. “I need to get his damn coffee first!” Yoseob turned around, stomping his foot and pushing at the inside of his cheek with his tongue before nodding stiffly once. When Dongwoon went inside, he huffed, tightening his hold on his canvases. His mind was going crazy, making an argument bringing up all the points that he wanted to bring up. But when Dongwoon came out and him and Yoseob walked to the gallery, Yoseob’s mind was going crazy, telling him to calm down and try again a different time. But he didn’t want to.

“Just wait here, I’m going to give him his coffee and tell him that you’re here.” Dongwoon muttered, making his way to Junhyung’s office door, but Yoseob quickly grabbed the coffee from him and walked inside himself, closing and locking the door after him. He rolled his eyes as he saw the leather chair spun around, the back facing him. He placed the cup down, rather loudly and cleared his throat.

“Thanks, Dongwoon, you can leave now.” A low voice spoke, and Yoseob scoffed.

“Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Yong, but it’s Yoseob.”

A moment of silence passed, and Yoseob smirked as the chair quickly turned around, but his smirk quickly fell when his eyes landed on Junhyung. Sure, he knew that Junhyung was the son of the owner, but he was expecting his dad to turn around in that chair, not him.

“I see that you’re here to complain—this is a first.” He said, smirking, grabbing the coffee and taking a small sip. “Mm, go on then, but make it short.”

“I...” Yoseob couldn’t remember what he wanted to say, so he bit his lip and simply passed him the canvases. “Here, these are new.”

Junhyung only took one look at them. “Too colourful, too bright, it has to be black and white, Mr. Yang, you know that.” He said, pushing away the coloured piece and arching an eyebrow as he looked at the black and white piece. It was like that for a minute or so, before a loud laugh escaped his lips. It was beyond embarrassing for Yoseob, because, well, the black and white piece was of Junhyung. “No emotion.” He said, shaking his head with an amused smile on his face before leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, well, your face is emotionless, what do you expect?” Yoseob quickly retorted, sitting down in one of the chairs. “Why can’t you accept coloured pieces here? Why does it all have to be bland and boring?” He asked, his mind only registering what he said afterwards. Well, it was too late to take it back now.

“Bland?” Junhyung asked, looking up at him, eyebrow arched. “Boring?” His voice rose quickly before a chuckle escaped those lips and he shook his head. “Because that’s what the world is, Yoseob, what do you want here? Bright colours? Happy faces? Paintings that make you actually hear laughter and happiness?” He arched an eyebrow again, leaning forward. “Yoseob, that isn’t the world, it’s only a fantasy. Why feed lies to people? Why—”

“Are you suffering from depression or something?” Yoseob asked, voice almost hissing at him. “Have you grown up in a broken home or some ? Well, you’re a fool, a ed up one at that. The world is colourful; the world is full of laughter and joy, only if you look.” Yoseob stopped for a second, leaning back into his chair. “But obviously, you’re too lazy and up yourself to open those damn eyes of yours and look. You probably don’t know colour and happiness if it hit you in the face and shook you, screaming ‘hey, I’m here!’, now, would you?”

Junhyung just blinked, face blank, expressionless. Yoseob let out a scoff at that and stood up, making his way to the door in silence.

“Take your paintings.” A small voice called out to him and Yoseob shook his head as he opened the door.

“Nah, keep them, it might help you realize what the world is full of, and it might help you stop being a cold and live life like us silly humans do.” And with that, he was out the door, letting it slam after him and shutting out a rather, shook up Junhyung.

Junhyung’s fingers were wrapped around a wine glass, the red wine inside almost gone as his eyes didn’t leave the canvases that Yoseob gave him on his coffee table. He was in deep thought, and Hyunseung knew that as he watched him. And he knew that he was too wrapped up in his thoughts as he let his body lean against his and his fingertips trace his cheekbone.

“Junhyung, will you stop thinking about what that low-life said?” He almost purred and leaned forward, kissing down his neck. That seemed to shake Junhyung up from his spiralling thoughts and back to reality, back to a Hyunseung literally crawling onto his lap. “Junhyung...” He whispered in his ear, but Junhyung pulled away and pushed him off his lap.

“I think it’s time you go.” He muttered, standing up and making his way out of the living room. “Isn’t Hyuna expecting you back home?”

“The is up with you today?” Hyunseung asked, loudly, standing up and grabbing his coat. “You’ve been like this ever since Yoseob walked out of your office? What the hell did he say to you?” He almost growled as he put on his coat.

“It doesn’t matter, Hyunseung. Just go.” He said, a sigh leaving his lips as he made his way to his bedroom.

“Yong Junhyung, if you kick me out, don’t come back to me asking for again, because it’s not gonna happen.” He said, walking after him. “Think it through, Junhyung, because I’m serious this time.”

“Hyuna’s expecting you, Jang Hyunseung, can’t keep your fiancée waiting.” And with that, he slammed his door and Hyunseung was left standing behind, mouth open.

“ you then!” He managed to shout, storming to the front door and walking out, the door slamming after him and a string of curses leaving those lips of his as he got into the elevator.

But Junhyung didn’t care, because Junhyung, for once in what seemed like years... well, technically, it was years, pulled out his old easel and a canvas before digging out his pencils and paint palette with his brushes and paints and sat down on his bed next to them, letting out a sigh. ing the top three buttons of his shirt and rolling his sleeves up, he pursed his lips and grabbed the pencil, shutting off from the world completely and sketching out from memory. But he didn’t realize what he was sketching out, nor did he realize what he was painting afterwards until he stepped back from the canvas and lit a cigarette, finishing off his third glass of wine and letting his eyes linger on his work.

Small face, chubby cheeks, round eyes with a twinkle of hope in them with a brilliant smile stared back at him. Full brunette bangs, wild, messy bed-hair look, a tint of a blush and a slight red high nose.

Colour. All in colour.

Happiness, joy, laughter, hope.

What stared back at him wasn’t Hyunseung, or Hyuna, or even Gikwang or Dongwoon. It was damn Yang Yoseob, that low-life artist, the artist that struggled to make his work hang in a gallery, knowing that his road was short in that department but not giving up, not letting hope go.

That angered Junhyung, it made him kick the canvas off the easel.