colours // yoonmin

six

f r i e n d s ;
"So when we moved in, our neighbours gave us a lot of gifts." This is my fifth, sixth? time visiting him and he's become less hesitant to speak, voice not as shaky as last time and more often than not glowing a bright yellow, "And I got this plush, a dog plush I believe. I should get it... uh- wait here."

He walks to his bed with ease and his confident stride almost convinces me that he isn't blind, as I've thought he was. Then he starts to pat around the bed and that thought was thrown out the window. His hands eventually touch the grey plush that sits at the edge of his bed and he grabs it, carries it to the window and sets it on the sill, stroking its head.

"I named it Molly," he said, smiling warmly, "Why you asked?" I didn't, I was quiet the whole time, still only the knock on his window that came every sunrise.  "Well, it looked like a Molly. Or it felt like a Molly because- uh, if you, uh, haven't noticed, I can't see very well... actually at all. I can't see, period." He laughs nervously, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. That confirms my suspicion, not that I needed confirmation since, well, the signs are all too clear for one not to notice.

Everything points to it -- how he walks into the wall at least eight times a day, how he's not allowed to leave his house, can barely go downstairs to the kitchen (god forsake his parents for putting his room in the second storey), and that empty dead stare he always has. 

"How does it feel like?" I think, staring at the sun slowly making its way up in the horizon, hoping the burning sensation in my eyes helps to keep me awake. I don't want to end up sleeping on someone's roof, especially a grey one. Unfortunately, the only thing the tingling in my eyeballs and the mental replies are doing is lull me closer to sleep. My mind's still in a drowsy haze from sleeping a bit too late last night, busy with schoolwork and revisions. I had wished for Yoongi to be absent today so I can get an extra one hour of rest. But my wishes are never granted. No hard feelings though, I'm used to it.

It's only until my eyes flicker to Yoongi after an unsettling moment of silence, something very uncommon because that boy just never shuts up, that I notice the expression on his face. Gaped mouth and eyes widened so much that you'd think it's going to pop right out of its sockets at any moment. He looks like he seen a ghost. (Wrong expression, he is physically unable to see anything, let alone a ghost, but whatever.)

"Y-You talked," he says and I raise an eyebrow. 

No I didn't.

Did I-

And I catch myself, mouth opened and throat vibrating. I thought out loud, didn't I?

Yep.

Well shit.

"Ah um," he stutters, playing with his thumbs shyly. If I wasn't in such a state of shock, I'd be cooing over the boy. His yellow skin glows even brighter and he won't be the only blind one here if I continue staring. His pupils, however, still remains that ugly grey. It's always half covered by his blonde fringe, luckily, which helps looking at him more tolerable. Still can't get used to that colour.

He starts to chew on his lips, broken strings of murmurs leaving his lips every once in a while. It's adorable. He is adorable. 

Then, he turns blue.

He looks like he is about to cry and I swear if he does, I would too. One, because the yellow is gone and two, empathy's a butt.

I look at him worriedly, unsure of what to do. My heart takes the wheel (again) and my arm reaches out to grab his hand. My fingers close around his hands and squeeze lightly. The action feels so familiar, but I can't put my finger on it, not when Yoongi is running across my mind.

His face stiffens up but quickly relaxes. His lips stretch into a gummy smile and I can't help but melt even further.

Then, as if something sprouted between our palms, his fingers turn green. And then his hands, arms, and then his whole body.

It takes my breath away and I can't help but gawk at the magnificent colour. Green, the product of yellow and blue, the colour of balance and tranquillity, the pigment of leaves and grass. I've seen green before but it's usually blue-green. This is green-green. This is the real deal.

My eyes are fixed onto our hands that are still intertwined together. His bony hands are gripping onto mine quite tightly and I almost feel sorry for the amount of terror I must have caused him.

"Thank you," he breathes out as he runs his free hand through his hair. "W-W... What's your name?"

I don't want to reveal my identity to him. I don't want him to know I was his neighbour or something, though he'll probably figure it out along the way. It's not like some random guy a few streets away would just climb your roof out of the blue. Though I'm not exactly sure how logical this Yoongi guy is. He's been talking to the air quite a few times now. He seems mad in my head.

"Are names really important?" I say, trying to swerve him off the topic.

"I guess in a sense it isn't. But I need something to refer to you by."

Crap he's right.

I purse my lip in thought, not liking where this was heading.

"How about friend?" I suggest.

And he lights up like a light bulb.

It is incredibly cheesy and I need a moment to recover from the cringe attack I received from it. Yoongi doesn't seem to mind it though, too yellow from being labelled a friend. Technically, I am the friend not him, nor do I consider him one but I refrain from raining on his parade, afraid that he'll go blue again.

Only here for the colour and Mrs Im Hye-Ju but nothing else.

"Friend..." he tests the word on his tongue, repeating it a couple times in different tones. It's weird and awkward, but I don't mind as long as he stays yellow.

"Well since we're friends now," he starts. No we're not, 'friend' is just a nickname for you to call me. "We should get to know each other better."

"I guess?" I say.

"So my birthday was months ago so it isn't important so what's yours?"

"October thirteen."

"Ah that's still far away but time moves really fast. I bet it'll be October before you even know it." He's overflowing with optimism. The good type, not the one that sounds incredibly fake and paired with that too-sugary-sweet tone. It is refreshing.

He has this voice that can make anything sound right and I'm head over heels for it, honestly. I don't quite agree, though. Time may move fast for him but in the blue neighbourhood, a minute could feel like an hour, an hour a day, a day a week and a week a whole month.

Before I can state my opinion, his ears twitches and eyes widens like it did a few days ago. "I need to go." He removes his hand from mine and pats the air for the handle. "October thirteen, right? I'll make sure to remember. Please come back tomorrow!"

"Sure," My voice trails away as he shuts the window and closes the curtains. I shrug it off and hop back to my roof. The feeling of his hand around mine lingers. I hold my palm in front of me.

It is green.

It is green.

And if I'm not on the roof where one wrong footing can and will literally lead to a world of pain, I'll be jumping right now because holy fudge I'm green. Strictly speaking, it's only my palm that's green but also strictly speaking, I don't care.

Because for the first time in my life I'm not blue.

And it's all thanks to Min Yoongi.

~~~
I used to be really good at following schedules idk what happened :') also, sorry this story is so slow