C O L O R S

Y E L L O W

A different kind of coldness creeps from his feet quickly through his spine that makes him jolt up in frantic breaths. The first thing he lays eyes on is the impossibly open window that lets the December wind huffs and cause shivers to his body.

He stands up to close it, thinking how it is open in the first place. But someone shuffles from behind and soon his question has been answered.

"Not a good morning, I suppose," Kirt mocks. Kris just turns on his heels, his face void of any emotion as he meets Kirt's teasing eyes. He's lying comfortably on the bed across from Kris'.

"What happened to your morning panic attacks? Are those gone?" Kris doesn't speak and instead prepares his things for school. Kirt settles to his own conclusions then. "Man, you know you're cool when you're doing stuff like this." He mimics Kris' way of biting his nails, then his bouncing of feet, and his fingers tapping on his lap, before he laughs as if watching a really good comedy act.

"Awe. I miss you, man," he comments, wiping the tears on the corners of his eyes for too much laughing. But Kris doesn't seem to be affected. His relaxed breathing really helps in taking his mind off of Kirt.

The sound of a door opening is heard and Kris has thought for a second that Kirt has already left, but it is only the sound of the cabinet, where his things are.

"Do you still remember?" Kirt asks, his tone now serious and nostalgic, as he holds a Hawaiian beach shorts on his hands. "The day your brother died?"

"Stop." That's when Kris finally talks, his fists clench along with his gritted teeth. But that doesn't threaten Kirt, instead it makes him smile again.

"So you can fight now?" he asks in amusement as he walks closer to Kris. "What does Greg has to say about this? We both know he doesn't like you fighting back."

"Oh, wait. Does this have something to do with Eden, too? What, are you guys a couple now? Have you hooked up?"

"Stop it!"

But only laughter is Kirt's reply. "A lot of things have really changed since I was gone. Well you know I wouldn't be if it weren't for you, driving me away." He shrugs and smiles wider when he's close enough to hold Kris on both shoulders, tapping it before he leans until Kris can feel his breath on his ears. "But don't worry. I won't ever leave you alone again."

Kris leaves for school a little too early. He is meeting Rose at the coffee shop before class, just to thank her about last night.

At the bus ride, his mind is preoccupied only by the thoughts of his attempt. He has been provoked, that's all he knows. If it weren't because of the voices, he wouldn't have tried taking his own life again.

"But I was too close." Indeed he's been. The knife has left a nick on his chest and now it's bruising. And he's agitated.

Nervous of what Rose has to say about it. Will she choose to walk away now? He hopes not. For he doesn't think he can handle that.

Yes, he's never imagined he would hold on to her that easy. Yes, he's thought that her, leaving, wouldn't be any big deal.

But letting go has never been an easy task.

He's a ship sailing in the wildest of seas, and she has now become his anchor---surfacing him to somewhere more stable, keeping the balance for him to avoid from capsizing.

And to prefer not to is being yellow. To choose not to let loose of his anchor is being afraid to lose it all.

His head snaps to the door upon hearing the chimes dangling at the entrance of the wind. There he sees Rose, looking at him with worried eyes. He gets up from his seat---waiting for her---and she runs her way to him, wasting no time into giving him a hug.

Her hands ate both on his back while his' doesn't touch even her clothes. He's almost forgotten how it feels---to be hugged by someone other than family. To be hugged by a friend.

Rose pulls away without him hugging her back but she doesn't seem to mind. Instead, she holds Kris' arms to check for cuts, then tilts his head to check his neck for rope bruises. When she hasn't found any, that's the only time she breathes normally, finally taking a seat as she heaves a deep sigh.

"Thank you," Kris says sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

Rose cocks an eyebrow playfully, getting his tumbler from her bag. "For what?" she asks, faking confusion. But Kris refuses to answer, so she has her focus on making her blend instead.

But upon opening the lid, Kris smells a different kind of scent. No, it's not coffee. So without giving any notice, he snatches the tumbler from Rose's side of the table to his, inhaling the liquid inside.

"Hey!" Rose protests, but Kris already knows what she's trying to hide.

"Liquor?" He eyes him suspiciously, looking forward to her cover story. But she just smiles that you-got-me smile, not even bothering to deny it.

"I thought I should try. He-he," she says along with that fake laugh.

"Why?" He might not realize it but he's getting more intrigued by her. Well, anyone will think it's just normal---asking questions. Besides, they know nothing except each other's names.

He's thought for a second that maybe she doesn't want to talk about it, so he contextualizes a reasonable apology for it, but then he sees her sigh. "I told you, we're not actually different," she starts, getting her tumbler back from Kris.

"I, too, am drowning." She flashes a bitter smile, eyes glinting with so much emotion. "She's doing it again," Kris thinks, pertaining to the unsteady series of sentiments in her eyes.

She's never been too hesitant to tell him her story. And he lends her his ears. He doesn't say anything---doesn't judge. He just stays there; just listens.

She tells him how she's been diagnosed ill just over a year ago. That sometimes, at night, she hears voices that she never imagined she will hear. That most of the time she will just smile, so everyone will think that she's that straight A student that has never had a problem. She tells him that they never knew that most nights, she lays there on her bathroom floor; too weak to put up a smile, her head on her hands.

But she tells him tiredness is never a reason to give up. Because there are still a lot more classes that need attending, a lot more food that needs cooking, a lot more stories that need telling, and a lot more things that need -inging.

She also tells him that she wants to try and break the rules; to experience fun at its best---that life is too short to waste

"That's why I think we should be friends," she tells him, snapping him back to reality. "Maybe we can help each other along the way." She smiles even though Kris doesn't smile back.

"Give me your hand." But she's already holding it. She balls hers into a fist before letting her pinky finger stands up among the rest. "Don't walk away from me now."

Kris doesn't know but he just finds himself intertwining his pinky finger with hers. "I won't," he says, making her smile even wider.

"A life for a life?"

"A life for a life."

So will Kris ever do that suicide attempt again?

No. He doesn't think so.

He thinks he understands that everyone has flaws; that a single mistake doesn't mean a failure. Yes, he thinks it's clear now. Not too much, but just enough.

"And Kris," she speaks when they are finally outside Hot Mugs, before they part ways. "It's not depression I have been diagnosed with."

Kris' brows furrow in confusion, but with Rose's smile, he knows it's not that bad.

But for a moment, has completely forgotten that she is a girl of concealed emotions.

"I'm dying," she says, as if it's the most casual thing. "But you promised me. Don't walk away from me now."

Just then, along with the shindig of variants of colors from people walking to their own destination, another one flashes in Rose's eyes.

Indeed, they're not different.

Just like him, she's yellow.

Just like him, she needs saving.