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firemandeanbuck · 2 years ago

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The human eye can perceive 10 million colours on average. All thanks to the 3 colour rod cells in the eyes.

Camera was first introduced in the late 10th century. And ever since then, it has been simply improving.

Painting and many forms of art has been in practice since the first human civilization. There are many colours and ways to paint.

Morpheus and Hob are human, and are limited the way humans are. They need rest, they need sustenance interactions with others. And above all, they need muse and motivation for their work.

On a sleepy Sunday evening, the pair find themselves on the blue sofa in their shared living room. Utterly defeated and tired, scrolling through Netflix for a calm and quiet thing to watch. They decided on a document about jellyfishes.

The evening was gloomy, but nothing in the WORLD could bring them down. You see, Morpheus has JUST delivered the 80,000 pound full wall-length piece he had done. It took him 4 months to finish, working 13 hours a day with little to no break. It was a landscape for a client who wanted to have him paint a red poppy field where their grandmother and son are buried. The artist was genuinely touched by the commission so he strived to do his best. Throwing himself completely into it, hoping the client loves the landscape.

He is a full time artist, so he hadn't the need to worry about other everyday life stuff but at the moment, Morpheus desires nothing more than to sleep until the apocalypse and even a little after that.

As for Hob, he has submitted his collection of photographs labelled as "Humans", a series of over 100 pictures that shows people doing human things, from their jobs to their hobbies, to travelling to eating, to celebrating to mourning, to playing to eating, from their first breath to their last. The idea was simmering in Hob's mind ever since he became a professional photographer, but simply didn't have the sponsorship nor the resources. Till his old friend from university rang him up and told him she could support him. So he dedicated the collection to Joanne Constantine, who is at the moment checking his pictures that he had spent the last 27 hours awake to edit as she reduced the deadline from a week to the next day, by an order from higher ups.

They both were proud of their labour and hoped to enjoy its fruits other than the money. They hope the receiving party enjoys their work as much as they enjoyed creating it.

More often than not, Hob had to drag Morpheus to his bed and likewise. There were times where Morpheus had to take Hob out of the most random places he can think of, and back home. To their shared space of comfort and calmness.

Home. One of Hob's favourite topics. He thought of making a new personal collection for it. The word holds so much meaning and emotions for Hob, he wants to give it its justice.

He already thought of where to start. It is from the person sitting next to him. The person to whom their penthouse belongs, to whom Hob's heart belongs.

Morpheus is not human, Hob was convinced ever since he did a Photoshop for him and his then-latest collection "Dreams and Nightmares", which went on to become his best work til date. Nothing about him is physically flawed. His face, his hands, his smooth skin, even his eyebrows. Don't get Hob started on his VOICE and his EYES.

Morpheus finds Hob interesting. The blue eyed man himself was sheltered and cut off from the world for most of his life, so when he met this vibrant person who looks like the sun is walking on earth, it was like his eyes were opened, truly, this time. Hob had dragged him around to eat street food, discreetly attended random university classes, go to protests unprepared, go to charity centres and volunteer personally in his free time, buy groceries and books every now and then, and interact with people on the tubes to make time pass.

The photographer had also showed him the simple, personal pleasures of life, such as the multi-layered flavours of food, enjoying the weather– a rainy day with a good book, a sunny day with a walk around the block– dancing around in the kitchen with lights off in middle of the night, baking cookies at 3 am, playing violin at crack of dawn, go to parks in the middle of a thunderstorm, making snowman, caring for sick or injured animals, making each other laugh til they feel like their ribs cracking, watch silly movies and reenact old plays.

They had also shared the worst there is to life. Hob lost his wife Elenor and his new born child Robyn unexpectedly. He took many long years to recover, drowning him in alcohol and misery. The session with Morpheus revived his old passion and he carried on.

Morpheus also had a long hard life, he was kidnapped for 2 years, no one knew where he was. Then when he got out, he met a deceivingly amazing woman named Tesslay, pretty soon, they got engaged. But when they were going to get married, she left him at the altar, never to look back or return. When Morpheus tried to contact her, she acted as though she didn't know him.

The artist had no idea he would find someone to be his rock ever again. The universe proved him wrong when it led him to Hob. He fell into a year-long depressive episode. His sister, Teulute, had to drag him out of it and encouraged him to work again. Only this time, it must be for himself.

Reluctantly agreeing, Morpheus worked on multimedia project. When it came time for the launch of his collection, he needed it to be BIG so that everyone knows that he is back and better than ever. He worked night and day for it. Hob was among the first to see it, he showered him openly with love and appreciation for his art.

His next work will be a birthday gift to Hob. He never gifted him a painting, despite being an artist. Ironically, Dream didn't know WHAT to paint when it comes to Hob. He knows what he likes and dislikes, but what he LOVES, is a difficult task. Hob loves everything A LOT.

Above all, Hob loves to see things from other people's eyes and to make them feel home.

Hm. Eyes and home. Such an interesting topic. Worth a painting. ESPECIALLY when it comes to Hob.

"Want some pie?" Hob calls from the kitchen, which is attached to the living hall. When did he go there?

"Yes, I would like some pie" Morpheus answers back back across the dark blue painted hall.

He glances around the place. It's cozy and comfortable, nothing like the High end and minimalistic one he initially gifted to Tesslay. This one FELT home.

Home always was such an important place for Morpheus, for he always searched for it. The journey took him over 3 decades, until he found out that his photographer was homeless, so he offered him his apartment. Most of the things done to the place is thanks to Hob's touch. He made it feel so human. Hob gave him the gift of connecting with humanity when he needed it the most.

The said man came back with half a pie and plates for them both. And a bottle of Ice Wine Morpheus forgot he had around. The brunette man offered Morhpeus an easy smile and handed him the pie just the way he likes it; no crust, only middle parts, and poured him the burgundy wine. He added a generous amount of vodka in his glass.

As they were eating, Hob turned to Morpheus, "I was thinking, mate",

"Don't hurt your head, it never was your strongest suit", Morpheus teased,

"Look who's talking", Hob shot back, "As I was SAYING, I want to do a personal mini project",

"I was thinking likewise, my friend",

Hob's eyes shone brighter than thousands of suns, "Yeah? What will it be about?"

"Can't tell JUST yet"

Hob groaned, "You're killing me, Morpheus", the pale man's heart DEFINITELY didn't skip a beat at the sound of his name.

"Tell me about yours", he said instead.

"It's about home", it was obvious that he was anxious about introducing the idea, given he drank a good 2 full glasses of wine and vodka. But he cannot hide it from his best friend. Not since he is the one who inspired it.

Morpheus was taken back. Hob was also thinking of the same topic as himself. What do you call that? Coincidence? Fate?

"It's a wonderful idea. Where will you start from?" Can it be from here? With us? remains dead on his tongue.

"I hadn't gone THAT far" Hob huffs, "I JUST thought about it", downing some more of his drink. Was he on his fourth or fifth glass?

Morpheus leaned back,"if you need help with it, please do tell me",

"Same with your thing. How long do you think it'll take?"

"Perhaps 5 weeks",

"More time of you being shut off and me being out and about, huh?" Hob meant it light heartedly but it did mean they will see each other less and less. He didn't want to see the one person who provides so much comfort and consistency to him utterly shut out of the world. It reminds him of the early days he moved it. He barely saw him. He was always locked up in his room like he was punished.

“I hope not”, Morpheus replies carefully. He dearly treasures his friendship with Hob. It would hurt him greatly to push Hob away. Ever since the last time they had a row, Morpheus saw his mistakes and apologized, but not before being dramatic and storming out like he was in a Hispanic soap opera. Thing were better since then. Morpheus engages with work around the house.

Sipping on the cold wine silently, Morpheus smiled at the fruity and sweet taste of the wine. It's his favourite drink.

"I just didn't find the right SHADE of blue to start", Hob starts,

"I'm facing the same problem with brown. I need the richest, most layered brown possible",

"Same with blue, I want it to be animated, to have LIFE in it, you know what I mean?"

"I need my brown to be perfect, for the painting must be perfect. I only have ONE chance to get it right"

Hob sighed moodily, "Gods bless editing"

"Y'know. Whales are big", slurred a mildly drunk Hob. Such a sweet pink filled his cheeks. The alcohol blurred his vision and somehow his impossible earthy brown eyes.

"Indeed", Morpheus always enjoyed Hob being drunk. It always leads to interesting places, especially in social events and high society events.

"NOW, you-you can't just be a whale. WHY!!" He said with the same gravity one would talk about losing something valuable to him. Like a real tragedy had occurred.

"To be fair, I would prefer a jellyfish to be. Just a bunch of neurons, no brain no care" Alcohol did lose his tongue as well. Though, not like Hob.

Then, Hob leaned onto Morpheus, his warm body half over his own. The look he gave him as he held his forearm could be considered dangerous if the man was sober.

"WHALES are the best",

"Jellyfishes", Morpheus said, stubborn as a bull.

"Whaaaaales", When the other man said nothing, Hob leaned his forehead on Morpheus' shoulder and gave out a little sigh of contentment.

"Life's 'ood", he breathed.

Morpheus was tense as a rock at this point. He rarely has anyone touch him like this. He is, by definition of existence, touch-starved, but he also DOESN'T like physical touch. Yeah, go make sense out of that.

Hob is allowed to do a lot of things to Morpheus, he can insult him, make him do things he wouldn't normally do, call him names (affectionately, ofc), indulge him into social activities and all.

Just like every other time, Hob is allowed to touch him affectionately, caressing his arm with his firm grip. Electricity was felt under Morpheus' skin, he felt like going out and taking it out. The heat between them was unnatural, but a very welcomed distraction from the cold outside world.

When Hob started humming a very off-key intro of August, Morpheus knew it was time to go.

"Alright, let's put you to your bed",

"Nooo", Hob groaned like a disgruntled cat, throwing his other arm on Morpheus' chest. The blue eyed man tried to budge him but to no avails

Seeing no other option, Morhpeus slid down to properly lay on the black sofa and let Hob get on top of him. Morpheus was sure that if Hob was a cat, he would purr so loudly, he would feel it in every bone of his body. Having his best friend over him like this certainly does NOT help the not so brotherly feelings brewing in Morpheus' heart and mind for quite a while.

He tried his best to bury his feelings, but to no use. Everytime Hob calls him dear, or love, or his many silly nicknames, Morpheus can't help but imagine hearing those words only for him alone, when he wakes up in the morning next to him.

"You smell nice", Hob muttered into Morpheus' ear, sending shivers down his spine and interrupting his train of thought

"Hmm" Morpheus was afraid that if he opened his mouth he would say something foolish again.

"Like, like san'al an'-and villina an' citrus"

"That's quite a mix", commented the unimpressed artist.

Hob grins in return,"it's you, an' you're my home",

Morpheus' heart yet once more skips a beat. Did Hob just call him HOME? Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it's the subconscious. The idea terrified him but the words excited him. How did he long to be someone's home? Their safespace? Their shelter and support?

Reluctant, Morpheus ran his hand through Hob's hair, like he always wanted. It was softer than what he imagined it to be. Untangled and smooth, was Hob's hair, in contrast to his own unkempt and wild head.

Burying himself impossibly deeper into Morpheus, like he wants to fuse with him, Hob wrapped his arms around his thin waist and slept.

It was practically impossible for Morpheus not to sleep like this after he imagined to do it for YEARS at this point.

The pain in his chest stopped cutting as deeply as if used to. His shoulders don't feel like he holds the weight Atlas does. The entirety of his body was relaxed. So was his mind.

Wine also did its job in soothing his burning nerves.

For the first time in a long time, Morpheus slept like the god had finally blessed him with it.

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