ℭ𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔯 Δ[hanma x yn]Δ

Chapter one - colour

2005, 1st of January

It was a snowy day, with no sun, no warm but cold and intimate wind. The sky was covered in light grey paint, with dark grey clouds shading some of it, making the sky not look so empty and depressed. But still, that wouldn't change their point of view: colourless.

The light poles shine under the grey sky like a toddler points out the light with yellow and orange paint with their little thumb.

There was him, walking down the empty streets with cars passing by one or none times after beating up some human creatures made up of veins with red paint in them. His face was covered in dry red paint, and he was smoking a cigarette which came out of evaporated grey and light blue paint.

Nothing catches his attention, none.

Life was colourless for him; no colour for the sky, the building, the lights that the light poles were showing, nor the people's colourful clothing when they passed by his red split painting face, with surprised and bad expression.

Those people don't understand him.

He continued walking, ignoring the murmurs, or the gaze from strangers. It feels like he's just an extra of the social community or even a psychopath.

He doesn't care, at all.

Maybe this is his destination or the way life is playing a game on him. But, did he care? No, none a bit. He already got used to these things, so it's not so bad to get over with it. He would make anything look interesting for himself, but life pulls out tons of jokes on him: boring, dull and indifferent.

He'll do anything to entertain himself, even if he ends up in juvie.

He has been walking for a long time now, not knowing where he should go next: back to the abandoned arcade for a sleep or nap, or even beat up more cramps? Maybe go to the gambling and win a huge bag of prizes again. He sighs before taking a long drag on his cigarette, more like a routine than a habit.

Both of them are the same thing, idiot.

He passed by a pastries shop, where he stopped and took a look inside. Something had finally caught his attention in his life.

There was a girl, a medium tall, blond but more to brown long hair with a pure white baker hat. Her eyes were soft and warm brown, as she focused on decorating the new pastry that got out of the burning red, orange and yellow colour oven, her eyes shines in satisfactory from the produce.

The white shirt with short jeans and the warm, sweet brown apron wrapped around her waist showed her weak and thin curves and body.

It was the first time someone caught his eyes, or maybe we should call him...Hanma Shuji.

"..." He took another drag of his cigarette as the girl moved inside the cosy and pleasant pastries shop, placing a tray full of pastries in one of those cupboards display.

He snapped out as soon as he made an eye with the girl, casually a smile in response, as if she was inviting him into the warm and colourful pastries shop. Immediately, he walked away from his spot, hiding his face to the cloth neck of his black ink jacket, which was slightly red from the cold wind...or maybe something else?

He was so distracted in his weird feelings that he didn't notice someone passing past him, quiet and unnoticeable. Due to their hoodie hat on and the heads down, he couldn't peek slightly at their face.

What he only knew about that person, they wear all black and grey, like if the world was colourless for them as well like Hanma's. But, the small drawing on their mask change the way they lived colourless; just a tiny colour inside them.

Hanma didn't even bother to turn around to check if he saw it wrong, nor stopping to realised what he truly missed the colour in his life...

.
.

"Hey, look, it's the 'silence oppo'."

"Shh! Lower your voice! She can hear us!"

Two students quickly walked away from that specific classroom, with nervous and afraid to have a second look inside the classroom.

The white painted curtains from the window moves from the wind blows, with different paint colours spit on at it's bottom of textile. The light coming through, asking towards the classroom for light to light up, but occasionally gets interrupted by the moving curtain.

"Yellow...blue...equals turquoise."

The cracked and smooth voice sounded over the chair, in the middle of the classroom, as well in the middle of tons of used paint brushes, bottles of paints, artboard...

"No, yellow, blue...and green equals that..."

The brush in the girl's hand moves like an athlete, with their hair dye in the paint she uses on the board. Each harsh movements she had to do, none paint spilled on her clothes, none.

Like if the paints doesn't want to dirty her...

"Now...let it dry."

She gets up from the chair, throwing the brushes into the dark khaki, where it's mixed with hundreds of colors. Grabbing the artboard and leaving by the window to dry it off, after closing in case the wind blows it off.

She take her schoolbag before walking out of the classroom, then the school gate. She couldn't take bus after staying in the art club until the late afternoon, or she could be at home around 20 minutes, not lole now, passing by a dark, creep and cold alley.

There were a rumours about that specific alley.

Many students, teachers and just being passed by. Specially in boys- I mean male, they often gets out of the alley beaten up, or even found unconscious in there.

But those are just rumours, rumours aren't true, right?
...
...right...?

"Who's there? Come out~ I see ya there~♡ "
.
.
Hiding behind wall of the corner building, covering her mouth with her little hands, pupils wandering around for help...

Maybe, rumours sometimes can be true...

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Words: 1013

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