befall

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"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

― H. Jackson Brown Jr., P.S. I Love You

She found him, sitting by the staircase one morning.

His brown hair which was adorned by the rays of the bright sun, fell upon his eyelashes. His hand was painted in postal colours while he swiftly moved his hand through the spaces of the painting.

He hadn't noticed her.

Despite being summer, he was covered fully. His arms, legs- everything.

She stood there, her words scattering messily in her head. She didn't know how to choose the right words to say.

His head suddenly snapped up, his eyes landing upon her.

His brows gathered heavily together at the sight of her. Even with silence, it was evident that he clearly didn't liked her presence.

"Um, hi. I'm, I mean, we're neighbours in math class?" she offered.

He didn't reply.

Instead he stared at her for a good two seconds before he brought his attention to his painting. He picked up his equipment and the painting as quickly as he could. He stood up and walked away, with the sound of glass hitting against each other in the pockets of his jacket.

The girl looked at the retreating figure and figured that he probably needed his space.

But something caught her eye.

It was a paintbrush lying on the ground.

Her eyes flickered to the boy and back to the paintbrush. She ran to the spot where the paintbrush was lying, as she picked it and ran after the boy.

She tapped his shoulder when she caught up with him. He turned around swiftly, his eyes holding fear. But his eyes immediately turned hostile at the sight of the girl.

"Your paintbrush. You left it there."

He hesitated for a moment before he hastily took the paintbrush from her hand. He muttered something under his breath that the girl could not make out.

The girl looked at the boy, her eyes gaining a full and proper view of the boy. Unusual grey eyes, hair in the colour of brown and skin as white as snow.

There was another thing that stood out visibly.

A slightly faded bruise painfully marked at the side of his right cheek.

He noticed the girl staring at his bruise and immediately covered it with his hand, ashamed.

The boy, who could not tolerate the embarrassment any longer, turned his back and walked away without a word.

All he wanted at that moment was for the ground to split open and swallow his existence.