prism [ kim s.j ] ( fin )

† 47

     "tell me, where did i go wrong." his fingers were stiff, hurt, blue.

     "you did nothing wrong. i was the one who was wrong."

     "then why make it seem like i was the one who ruined everything?"

     they heard shouting, calling. come back. go to the shade. for fuck sakes, are you idiots?!

     yeah. maybe they are.

     "five years ago, you were colour. my - the only rainbow i saw in this shitty world," he gripped her shoulders, boney, thin. soju and gin mixed with mango. mango sorbet. "what happened?"

     "the colours drained, down to the sewage." water made a current from her slacked fingertips on the pavement - there was only a few more colours that she tried to save. the paint swirled with the rain, mixed, black, leading to the said sewage.

     tense arms slacked, loose, dangle. knees caved, head forward, leaning on to hers. both tasting aftermaths of bittersweet liquor and reunions.

     "it's like i see a rainbow through a grayscale," she pondered, accepting the beatings of the sky. it felt harsher, colder – more so than burning herself with her shower head.

     "...sad how you can't see colour the way i do," he bit his lip - the only way he refrains himself from kissing her because god fucking dammit she's so close. too close. he made them close. or did she make them close? there's a barrier. he can cross it. why so afraid?

     if, just if, they said those words before, maybe it would mean something cliche and loving and live happily forever after.

     there's no castle. no carpet ride. no song. just reality.

     just rain. just an imaginary shatter of tears as they feed their longing spirit with their intoxicated mouths, ridden by hopelessly drunk minds.

     did they regret it? no. maybe.