prism [ kim s.j ] ( fin )

† 40

         

it was always a spectacle of monochrome shades - hues were not hotter or colder, no pastel, no tincture.

jin sees shade. just shade. he doesn't know why - he just does.

the only view that made him in peace was a gloomy rain - it was always the same shade as what everyone else would see.

he felt normal. he felt like everyone else. he felt the monotone world as he sees it crying with him.

a rainbow would come by after every rain, and he always hated rainbows. he hated colour in general.

he hated her.

how she was so passionate, but gave up on them. he remembers, she wanted to be a musician one day. he wanted to be a singer.

how she was confident in talking to him, but ignored his conversations. he was happy for a new face to talk to.

how she was so creative, but she threw them in the bin. her poems struck his heart, like how she always does.

how she was assuring to him, but left when he talked to someone else. he never wanted to talk to her anyway - he forgot the name.

how she talks lightly of death, but was masking her fear of it. he should've known - he was scared of it too.

how she was a pretty flower, but will soon wilt anyway. she gave him the flower, he should've taken care of her.

how she was an innocent girl in a dress, but she may not wear it anymore. he always wanted to ask her to wear that when they go out. if they go.

he hated how she was his rainbow. he hated how she was wired up, the doctors taking away her colour.

wires drained red and yellow in both arms. velcro inflated, suffocating her orange. blue was caged in her mind, green was sealed in her lips. her mysterious violet was unrobed, showing her wobbly fingers digging to the bed.

jaeyeol came back with a book. it had the flower in it - squished, wilted. faded indigo.

he remembered. it was her favourite colour.

his rainbow was slowly fading to a monochrome of stripes.

the only power he has was to look through the glass.

who knew a prism could be painful to see.