Cw: probably have some mild language or sexual content

Darius wanted to sing praises to his mother. His room was cleared of all the wine bottles save for a couple she had salvaged from the house before his madman of a father to clear everything out. Was there anything worth drinking outside of alcohol? He doubted it. So struggling to find anything made him sit there stuck with a cup of now tepid tea. He had felt like his life was empty and meaningless, but now it felt worse. He barely crawled out of bed late that day. Was it how everything was going wrong, everyone letting him down, or even himself making mistakes like sleeping with his model? He knew a good artist shouldn't do such a thing. 

He'd sent out a servant to get a doctor, a good one who could keep secrets. It was worth a shot, if he died young of an illness, it would be beautiful conclusion if only the world had been aware of his talent or his family would mourn him. But neither of those had or would happen. He stared into the room, dark as the curtains remained blocking out the light and sipped at the terrible tea. "Why must the brilliant be miserable?"