MY rain ~ MY love

colours between US

The clatter of keyboards and soft murmur of voices filled the office as the day moved along.

Jeonghan kept his head down, diligently working, but he couldn’t shake off the lingering emotions from lunchtime.

One of his colleagues had casually mentioned spending the weekend painting with their family, sharing the joy they felt as they bonded over colors and canvases.
It was meant to be a lighthearted story, but for Jeonghan, it dug up old memories—ones he'd buried under years of responsibilities and expectations.
He could almost see it again:  his younger self sitting by a sunny window in middle school, brushes in hand, face smeared with paint as he poured his heart into every stroke.

But those days slipped away when high school arrived, and he had to abandon his hobby to focus on academics.

Joining the basketball club had been more about fitting in than passion, the jeers from friends if he dared mention painting enough to make him pick up a ball instead of a brush.

Jeonghan quickly hid his emotions behind a smile as the story ended, but Seungcheol caught the fleeting sadness that shadowed his face. He wanted to ask then, but he knew it wasn’t the right time. So, he waited.

As the office day came to an end, the evening settling in with its familiar sense of winding down, people packed their things, chatting as they headed out. Jeonghan was no different-except that he was quieter than usual. Seungcheol approached him, casually falling into step beside him as they walked toward the elevators.

“Hey,” Seungcheol started softly, his tone gentle but firm. “You seemed a bit off during lunch.Something bothering you?”
Jeonghan stiffened at first, the urge to brush it off sitting heavily on his tongue.

But something in Seungcheol's eyes, the way they didn’t press but still held space for him, made it easier to let the walls crumble.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as they stood waiting for the elevator.
“You know that guy earlier, talking about painting?” Jeonghan's voice was barely above a whisper.

“It just... reminded me of something I left behind.” Seungcheol tilted his head, encouraging him to continue.

“I used to paint,” Jeonghan confessed, his gaze distant, as if looking through the layers of years between then and now.

“Back in middle school, it was my everything. I would spend hours getting lost in colors, creating worlds that were just mine. But when high school started, my friends thought it was silly. They’d laugh at me if I even mentioned it. So, I stopped. I joined the basketball club instead because it was easier… because I didn’t want to be alone."

Seungcheol’s heart ached, his chest tightening as he imagined a younger Jeonghan, full of dreams, feeling like he had to hide who he was.
“That must’ve been hard.” “It was,” Jeonghan admitted, his voice catching. “And I thought I’d forgotten about it.
But today, hearing him talk about painting with his family... it just brought it all back. I was happy for him, you know? But at the same time, I felt so... empty.”

Seungcheol reached out, his hand gently squeezing Jeonghan’s shoulder. “You didn’t deserve to lose something you loved, just to fit in,” he murmured, his eyes holding Jeonghan’s.
“And it’s never too late to start again.” “Maybe,” Jeonghan replied with a small, sad smile. “But it’s hard, you know? Picking up something you’ve let go of for so long.”

Seungcheol nodded thoughtfully. “It might be,” he agreed.

“But you won’t have to do it alone. If you ever want to paint again… I’d love to see it. To be there, even if it’s just to watch.”