there was once a time when kyungsoo thought he understood the world, when he could depend on everything to be set within the borders of a bold black outline. and each individual color that filled up the blank areas in between stayed within their boundaries, dependable, predictable, all simple, basic colors you’d be able to find in a children’s box of crayons.
everything from the straightedge lines of his heat pressed stefano ricci dress shirts, to the symmetrically stacked manila folders piled neatly across his parnian power desk, the almost obsessively compulsive uniformity of the black and gray color scheme of his million dollar penthouse suite, kyungsoo had always been safe in the knowledge of routine and constancy, normality, the invariable pattern of the way the earth rotates on a set axis, day in and day out, month by month, year by year.
every day, kyungsoo’s circadian rhythm wakes him up at 5:30 am sharp, dragging himself out of bed to hit the brew on his swiss-made coffee machine in a fully stocked, well equipped kitchen that he’s only used maybe twice or three times for some holiday party or other in the decade or so he’s lived here.
kyungsoo is just way too busy and tired to cook for himself, opting for sipping on fancy cocktails or hard liquor on the rocks, or altogether forgoing dinner to just come home and collapse on his bed to shut out the world and drown into a black, dreamless unconsciousness.
and in the midst of trying to remember the last time he’d actually eaten a real, substantial meal for dinner, the coffee finishes brewing. and kyungsoo tosses out the grinds and filter before pouring himself a full, steamy cup.
a few hesitant sips of caffeine gets his day going, jumping into the shower right after setting his cup down on the vanity dresser where it’ll cool into a lukewarm, bitter aftertaste. his valentino newman suit hangs in his walk-in closet with matching tie and socks picked out the night before, folded in neat squares and sitting on a center shelf straight within his line of sight.
fluffy cotton towel wrapped around his waist and droplets of water clinging to his hair, kyungsoo swipes his hand across the condensation fogging his mirror, staring himself in the eye to remind himself that this is his life, this is his world. lines and boundaries. remember that, and he’ll be okay.
kyungsoo never really finishes his morning coffee, draining the rest down his kitchen sink right before grabbing his keys hanging on a little hook in the living room and heading out the door, much like he does every other day.
everything is always the same, his life set in a habitual pattern of schedules and agendas, all handwritten neatly in bullet point format in his leather-bound yearly planner.
routine, and routine, after unflappable routine.
and then one rainy tuesday morning, a boy named jongin comes blasting into kyungsoo’s life like a furious whirlwind of whimsical tendencies and snap decisions, turning kyungsoo’s calculated, precision-based world of primary colors set within bold outlines upside down, literally crashing into the back of kyungsoo’s black maserati granturismo with his bright red honda civic convertible.
kyungsoo doesn’t actually process anything that jongin says, doesn’t hear a single word of his profuse apologies as jongin tries to explain that he’s got a deadline for an important exhibition and the puddles and hydroplaning. but no, kyungsoo hears none of it.
instead, he just stares with a wide-eyed, dumbfounded expression, taking in the colorful smudges of acrylic paint splattered across jongin’s oversized button-down shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders, sleeves folded up to the elbows revealing long, elegant arms of perfect, flawless skin. and kyungsoo fights off the sudden urge to reach up and wipe away the dark smear of charcoal pencil swept across jongin’s cheek.
kyungsoo refuses to accept the compensation, waving away jongin’s attempts to trade insurance information, and instead asks for his cellphone number, asking him if he’d like to sometime, maybe, have dinner with him.
utterly baffled that anyone could be so okay with someone totaling their car that’s probably worth more than the cost of everything jongin owns combined, but clearly flattered, if the pretty pink tint dusted across his cheeks is any indication, jongin agrees, dictating his digits in a soft, mellow voice that sends shivers down kyungsoo’s spine.
and from there, the colors begin to blur, spreading steadily away from the center like watercolor paint that has too much water, bleeding outside the lines to venture into limits unknown, places kyungsoo had never thought to see before.
jongin is all surprises and impulse, randomly showing up at kyungsoo’s office with a picnic basket stuffed full of food enough to feed an army, having kyungsoo tell his secretary to take all his calls and whisking him away to a nearby park to sit on a red and white checkered blanket under the shade of a giant oak tree to enjoy a nice and quiet lunch.
wherever jongin goes, spontaneity follows, like the sudden trips to the zoo with mountains of cotton candy and silly hats with animal ears, or those museums of strange contemporary art that kyungsoo thinks he’ll never understand, or signing up for baking classes where they’ll spend a majority of the hour laughing in the back, smearing flour and frosting on each other’s faces.
and sometimes, jongin will call him at three in the morning, wired on god knows now many cups of espresso after hours and hours of locking himself up in the studio, alone with only his paint and canvas to keep him company. and after those hours of isolation and lack of human contact, jongin will drag the still half asleep kyungsoo out of his home, with nothing but a pea coat draped over his silk pajamas.
caffeine high coursing through his veins, and maybe a little more than cracked out and crazy from sleep deprivation, jongin quickly ushers kyungsoo into his convertible, laughing and joking that at the grandpa pace kyungsoo is going, they won’t be getting to their destination until the end of next month.
“where exactly are we going?” kyungsoo frowns, still trying to blink away the sleep clouding his vision as jongin hops into the driver’s seat and races out of kyungsoo’s parking lot.
“somewhere fun!” jongin smiles, fingers tapping a tuneless rhythm on his steering wheel as the needle begins to steadily push passed ninety. and kyungsoo chooses not to question, instead settling into the plush cushions and letting jongin take the reins.
the world is still covered by darkness, a light, pearly mist hanging in the cold, crisp air. and kyungsoo watches as the city landscape zooms by, the tall buildings and skyscrapers dwindling away into clusters of suburban neighborhoods of neatly trimmed lawns and picket fences, which then fade into endless stretches of grassy fields.
“are we almost there yet?” kyungsoo asks when the time on the dash indicates 3:45. he has work at seven and he doesn’t feel comfortable not knowing if he’ll make it back home in time to get ready, if he’ll make it to work on the dot like he always does. or maybe its just the not knowing that kyungsoo feels uncomfortable with.
“dont worry,” jongin laughs, slipping his warm hand into kyungsoo’s to hold the elder’s fidgeting fingers still. “i’ll get you home in time for work.”
so kyungsoo takes his word for it, trusting the other and relaxing a little to finally allow jongin’s infectious mood, the thrill of adventure, excite feelings in him that he never knew he even had.
not long after, the flat green pastures rise up into hills, rise up into forest covered mountains. and kyungsoo stares curiously out the window as jongin finally parks his car along a narrow shoulder.
“come on!” jongin says excitedly, jumping out of the car and grabbing kyungsoo’s hand to drag him towards a barely visible path through a bunch of trees and shrubs.
“are you sure?” kyungsoo pauses, concern evident in the slight tremor to his voice. “it’s still really dark. what if we get lost?”
“i’ve been here a million times,” jongin reassures, brushing the fringe away from kyungsoo’s eyes. “i can find my way through this place in my sleep.”
kyungsoo still has some misgivings about battling his way through an unknown forest, but he allows jongin to pull him into the trees, jongin never once letting go of kyungsoo’s hand as they hike through endless tangles of branches and vines.
after about ten minutes of marching through the darkness, the trees begin to thin out, and finally jongin comes to a complete halt. “okay,” he breathes, eyes twinkling with excitement. “here we are.”
jongin stretches out his arm to push away the tall fronds of feathery grass, and kyungsoo gasps at the scene before him.
the forest gives way to a little clearing in the center, allowing the full moon hanging low in the inky black sky to reflect off of the dark pool of crystal clear water surrounded by smooth, polished boulders forming nature’s own bathtub, with soft patches of moss growing around the edges.
“is this a hot spring?” kyungsoo asks in wonder as he watches the steam gently float away from the surface in curling vapors, luxuriating in the feel of heat radiating towards him from the water’s edge.
“this is my little hideaway,” jongin introduces as he pulls the astonished kyungsoo closer to the pool. “this is where i come when i need to get my head straight, or just need some space to breathe. it’s where i come to find inspiration for my work.” jongin glances at kyungsoo, a soft smile gracing his features. “so, how do you like it?”
“it’s beautiful,” kyungsoo’s whisper disappears into the fragrant air filled with the piney scent of the woods mixed with that certain sulfuric smell of hot springs, not wanting to break the ethereal quality of this magical place.
jongin’s smile of satisfaction glows with the moonlight as he suddenly kneels before kyungsoo and quickly folds up the hem of his pajama pants to just above his knee.
“what are you doing?” kyungsoo stumbles back a few steps, slightly startled.
“well, we came all the way over here,” jongin says obviously, pulling kyungsoo back in to fold up the other side. “we’ll just dip our feet for a little bit, then head back. the water here is amazing!”
“here, i can do it myself,” kyungsoo mumbles in embarrassment, crouching down as jongin finishes rolling up the other leg.
“done,” jongin smiles, patting kyungsoo’s thigh and starting to fold his own faded jeans as high as it will go. he kicks off his sneakers and pulls off his socks, gesturing for kyungsoo to do the same.
together, they walk barefoot across the stony grounds, the smooth surface pleasantly warm against their soles from the heat of the springs.
“sit,” jongin commands, and the two settle down along the edge, soothing hot water rising just below their knees.
“this is nice,” kyungsoo comments,and jongin’s answering smile is so radiant, kyungsoo suddenly feels blinded, unable to see anything other than the curve of jongin’s full lips, the gentle slope of his nose, the moon and stars twinkling inside his eyes.
kyungsoo’s entire world, everything he’s ever known, zeroes in to focus on this quirky boy who’d brought a little splash of color into his life, teaching him that it’s okay to paint outside the lines, to blend the colors and create his own shade of something different, something new, something brilliant.
and kyungsoo can’t fight the magnetic pull that draws him closer to jongin’s beauftiful face, probably the most beautiful thing kyungsoo has ever seen, and presses their lips together in a chaste, but perfect, kiss.
kyungsoo does make it to work on time, seven o’clock on the dot with his tie perfectly in place, like jongin had promised. but the kyungsoo who used to walk into his office then, with a firm set of plans and schedules outlined in his mind, is different from the kyungsoo who walks in now, touched, changed, by the amazing wonder and gift that is jongin.
and kyungsoo finds himself constantly on his toes, anticipating the new.
and yes, he still reminds himself that this is his life, his world. but the difference is that, now, he knows that he’ll be okay.