Minghao crashed into Junhui like a comet driven off course by inexplicable forces. Color burst before the younger’s eyes as their bodies collided: wonderful swirls of vivid hues and swatches of radiant pigmentation. Minghao wasn't rude or unsociable, but he would never have considered giving this stranger a second thought if not for the colorful reaction his proximity lent. Between spilled coffee and horrified apologies, their lives were woven and tangled together on the loom of time.

But when the bare skin of their hands brushed, a nothingness unlike anything Minghao could even imagine aded his vision. Blackness wasn’t the right word; it didn’t suffice to describe the complete and utter blindness that had seized Minghao. Then other boy shifted and Minghao’s eyesight returned, first in black and white, next with patches of color, flickering although the distance between the two was unvarying the entire time. Confusion and fear had prickled uncomfortably in his chest, plaguing Minghao with every step he walked and every breath he drew in as he continued on his way.

It didn’t take many arranged meet-ups at coffee shops and little cafés for Minghao to come to the horrible realization that he himself was the only one of the two who saw the bursts of pigment. Minghao was destined for this tall, handsome boy, but Junhui was foreordained for another. That was why blackness exploded before his eyes upon hand to hand contact, why the color flickered fluctuated afterwards. His existence was an error.

The divine will, the formula of the inner workings of being itself, had ed up.