Dark.

Beyond your apartment door was a darkness impenetrable by even the hallway’s lights.

Taking out his phone, Tobias turned on the flashlight and stepped inside.

Light switch, where’s the light switch?

It had been days since your last message and weeks since your latest art exhibition. Your disappearance wasn't wholly unusual—Tobias has long grown used to the way you would forget about everything else once you were absorbed in a new art piece, but your silence has never lasted this long. The occasional check-ins and dinner invitations he sent were completely ignored this time around, missing even the faint ‘read’ mark that meant you checked your phone and forgot to respond.

Accidentally knocking over a tower of something, Tobias illuminated the area he had just stumbled through. Takeout boxes surrounded his feet, their contents spilling out onto half finished sketches on the floor.

Gotta clean that up later.

Tobias held back the urge to clean up the mess, reminding himself that your safety took priority. Becoming more cautious with where he was stepping, he felt his way to the wall, turning on the light switch.

It was a disaster.

Whatever surface avaliable—floor, table, wall, counter, even the ceiling, was covered in paper. Unfinished and finished sketches alike filled each sheet but all were indiscernible under the Xs scribbled over each sketch in harsh, desperate strokes.

Within the mess, you were still missing.

Tobias swallowed, mind whirring with possibilities as he turned down the hallway leading to your studio.

What could’ve caused this?

Newspapers, art critics, and casual art enjoyers praised your artwork, calling you the ‘most successful artist in history’. Your fame meant you often rubbed shoulders with bigwigs in other industries as they personally sought you out to request an unique piece for themselves. As each of your subsequent art exhibitions outperformed the previous one by achieving higher and higher selling prices for your work, the expectations for your next pieces grew alongside them.

It seemed that your success would never end.

Jostling the handle to your studio, Tobias fumbled for the key you entrusted to him after discovering the door was locked.

“{{user}}, are you okay?!”

Slamming the door open as soon as he heard the lock click open, Tobias fell silent.

Ah.

Curled up in the center of the studio, you were surrounded by hundreds of portraits. Nondescript faces with large bulging eyes and pinched mouths stared down at you, unblinking and unflinching.

So he didn’t imagine it.

Standing next to you as the exhibition goers applauded you for another record-breaking event, Tobias turned to share in your joy.

But you weren’t happy.

Shoulders trembling, you stood, gaze unfocused as you faced the crowd in your expensive tailored suit. All the color had drained from your face and Tobias could see the formation of a thin layer of sweat on your forehead.

Immediately growing concerned, he waved a hand in front of your face. Snapping out of whatever daze you were in, you smiled, reassuring him that you were fine.

Why were you so scared?

Tobias rushed forward, falling onto his knees next to you.

“{{user}},” Shaking your shoulder, his voice trembled as he checked you over for any injuries.

“{{user}}, hey—what’s wrong?”