Ha! I take back what I said about my next one-shot being a sad one. I was half-way writing a sad one when I realized it wasn’t even sad and was a tad bit overdramatic. So I deleted it and started fresh.

I didn’t know what to write so I asked for some ideas from my friends and voila! This was what I came up with. I hope it’s not too confusing!

--

What is the color black?

Too many colors mixed together? Or none at all?

-----

She thinks it might be both, the first time she's ever used might in a factual statement. She's learned from the countless textbooks and professors that a fact should be something that isn't questioned. But she's questioning this blackness (ohsomuch).

It's the middle of the night, the time of day that's too late to find company, yet too early to admit to being awake. The sole desk lamp on her plain wooden desk flickers eerily before snapping off completely with a quiet sizzle. She debates getting up to change the light bulb, but decides against it when realizing that action would require movement. Movement she is physically and mentally incapable of producing.

Her thin fleece blanket provides little comfort now that she's left alone with only the soft humming snore of her dorm mate seeping through the cracks of her door and the muted tapping of water dripping into the small (imitation) marble sink.

The darkness is killing her slowly. The emptiness is driving a knife into her brain, tweaking and thrashing, forcing it to think of the unthinkable. She sings a tune in her head, feeling the buzz of her tongue against the roof of . When that doesn't work (the damn song is his favorite), she succumbs to counting sheep. Whoever coined that phrase anyway? It seems pointless to count a carefree creature when her brain is oozing full of less innocent thoughts.

And suddenly (is she dreaming?) there's a small flash of white and she's back to square one, his face looming ahead, clenching into a thin, straight line giving away no emotion. So she lies to him (lying to a dream; she knows she's going crazy).

"I don't need you."

A whisper into the empty silence that fills the air, swirling as if there were a speech bubble with the words in thick black ink. She squeezes her eyes tighter together until the whiteness and his face meld into blackness once again. (What is the color black?)

Her nails grip onto the tiny square blanket yet again as his voice seems to penetrate her skull that has been doing a (useless) job of defending her thoughts from his corruption.

"Don't bull a bullter."

Such a cliché phrase, but it fits him. He's calling her bluff and he's not even here. is dry, saliva seeming to burn away from her lies, as she desperately her lips for any wetness. Her heart races at the speed of light and her fingers and toes tingle.

She coughs at a cynical laugh, a short bark of irony that all of the things she believed when she was younger, all the signs that pointed to "falling in love", are being wasted over him. On what is nothing more than physical compatibility and strong mental hatred.

-----

"Grow up, BoA," he smirks, shoving her into a random passerby.

She mumbles an apology, then proceeds to spit out a condescending "Yun-HO!"

His relentless smirk grows wider until it nears a borderline grin and she scowls at him. She's the responsible “friend” and he's still the carefree, laid-back "chump" as she very irritably informs him.

"You're going to learn to appreciate my innuendos one day," he snorts as her face turns a brighter shade of pink at his merciless taunting.

"Oh, that'll happen just as soon as you grow up," she scoffs back, a smug smile dancing on the edge of her lips.

Yunho takes a step back, "You got me, BoA. You burned me real ing bad."

"First off, it's badly. Secondly, please don't be vulgar in public. People could hear and then get the absurd notion that I accept this kind of behavior. Furthermore, they might believe that I know you, or worse, dating you."

Yunho's head snaps up at the end of her sentence, "Sorry, did you say something?"

In return, BoA yells the same words he had said minutes prior, "Grow up, Yunho!"

-----

She hates the fact that his words have grown on her. His reasoning is no longer illogical or meaningless. She needs to grow up, she needs to forget him. Her bones ache from weariness and her teeth continue to chatter from the chilly air, wind wafting in from the crack of her broken window.

-----

It's two months into fourth-year at college, the air brisk, leaves swirling in the air from the warm autumn breeze. BoA shades her eyes with one hand, blocking them from permanent damage due to the setting golden sun. Her other hand holds a stack of books much too high for only two months into the semester.

"Ya! What're you doing on this lovely Friday evening?" Yunho asks mock politely, batting his eyelashes.

She opens to inform him that she'll be attending a fancy soiree of some sort (of course it's a lie, she'll be studying until eleven and then most likely calling for Chinese and watching The Notebook on DVD).

But before she can start, he's cut her off, "Let me guess, Chinese takeout and some old movie you've rented from the store?"

She contours her face into an appalled expression, but she can't hold it, and her eyebrows begin to furrow and the frown begins to grow.

"I'm that predictable?" she utters, before being able to hold the comment in.

He merely nods, a smirk placed firmly on his face.

She rolls her eyes, "Fine. What's your suggestion to break the predictability curse?"

He raises a thick eyebrow in dismay, "Hey now, I never said I'd help. I merely said I could guess what you were doing tonight. Don't rope me into this. It's not my fault your college social life is near-nonexistent."

"Well, what are you doing tonight?"

"No way, BoA. No way in hell."

She tugs his arm, almost dropping her books, "Come on! You said it yourself! I need to have a social life. How am I supposed to do that when I don't know anyone?"

"Make your own friends, BoA. I'm not your wingman. I don't even like you enough to drag you to one of the lame parties I'm hitting up tonight."

"Please?" she begs with a growing pout.

"How am I supposed to introduce you and make you seem… oh, I don't know, human? I'm not going to lie to my friends and tell them what an incredible, awesome person you are!" his eyes sparkle in delight at his insult.

"Just this once."

He agrees with not a yes, not a nod, but a grunt. A grunt and a shove. And a gruff, "hurry up."

-----

She's made few bad decisions in her life. She's only made a handful of terrible decisions. But in all her years of living, she knows for a fact that she's only made one awful, life-altering choice. And that choice was to attend a party with her “friend”, the notorious Jung Yunho.

It's not solely his fault, she'll admit. She did ask for him to bring her along. And if she's not mistaken, she may recall saying a 'please'.

-----

Alcohol runs freely through her veins and she can feel it loosening her nerves, calming each individual one and shooting them a calming smile. She pulls her hair out of the careful ponytail and shakes it out, splaying her dark-brown locks onto her thin shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Yunho croaks in response.

"Taking my hair tie out," she giggles, pointing to the piece of rubber covered in black elastic material.

"No, what are you doing?" he repeats.

That's when she realizes she is inches away from him on the couch. Having started on opposite sides, she can't imagine how she got to this position. His warm whiskey breath is hot against her cheek and his eyes are suddenly… what's the word? Smoldering.

A thick-boned football player suddenly crashes into her, sending her even closer to Yunho, his arms wound around her body.

Suddenly, it's as if… it's as if her brain has turned into a scale. On one end are her logical thoughts: he's my friend, this is so wrong, I hate him even though he’s my friend. But on the other end is a much heavier portion of her thoughts: his eyes, his hands, and his warmth.

She's not stupid. In fact, some may call Kwon BoA the exact opposite of stupid. But her following action constitutes as something stupid.

She reaches her hand up to tangle in his thick, messy hair pulling his lips to hers.

-----

What is black?

She saw it after kissing him (all the colors), she sees it now, alone in her room (none at all).

So she can't tell, exactly, if it's all or none, and she can only assume that blackness might be both.

--

Author's Note:

Not too confusing I hope. I was trying to make it a bit more complicated than my other fics but not too dramatic... 

Sigh, I don't even know haha.

Anyways, thanks for the support ^_^