Her eyes—they are a smoldering coffee, exactly the way I like my daily dose of caffeine in the morning. They say that eyes are the windows to the soul, but Hahyo’s eyes are an endless ocean, vast and deep. So often I just slip and fall into her eyes. I drown and lose myself, I stare helplessly as the time passes by. When I first realized I have a crush on her, I thought that it was probably because of her bottomless eyes. When we watch TV together on weekends and something interesting shows, her eyes become wider, wide enough to accommodate all the wonders of the world. I love to see how her eyes become a lighter brown when she’s happy, and almost coal black when she’s sad. She indeed has the prettiest pair of eyes.

My laughter—it rings out the loudest when Hahyo is around. She can always make me laugh, even when I’m swimming in a sea of depression. Yesterday, when the teacher made me stand at the front of the class for not bringing homework, I should have hung my head in shame. Well, I tried, but out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Hahyo making silly faces. Before I could stop it, a grin broke out on my face and I was trying hard not to laugh loudly. I had to put my hand on my mouth to stop myself from breaking out. I tried to warn Hahyo, but she just continued, with a smirk on her face.

Her hair—it’s the richest of black. It almost falls to her knees and she often keeps it untied. I like it when it’s untied. When she flips her hair, it looks like a curtain of darkness, like the night sky. When I put my hand on her hair to ruffle it, it feels as smooth as silk under my fingers. Sometimes when she’s working hard to finish her homework, her bangs fall into her eyes. She doesn’t notice the disturbance but I reach out and tuck it behind her ear. She doesn’t mind, but in my stomach, thousand butterflies start a choreographed dance.

My hand—when it touches Hahyo’s, I feel electricity jolting through my veins. Her hands are cold and mine are warm. I try to pour as much of my warmth as possible into her hand, and I think it works. Her hand soon assumes the temperature of mine and we walk like that, locking hands through the snow-covered roads. She speaks volumes, I only listen. But there lies our pleasures—hers in talking, mine in listening. Her voice is music to my ears and I don’t have to talk to be understood by her; she knows me too well. My silence speaks to her.

Her smile—she wears one most of the time. Because she knows it makes me happy to see her smile. I can also see it when we’re playing video games. During those times, her smile breaks into a giggle and finally raucous laughter when we’re trying to push each other away from in front of the TV screen. She giggles loudly and tries to make me lose my control on the joystick. I, on my turn, tickle her feet. It makes her double over in laughter. And the sight makes my eyes glow with happiness.

My heart—it beats so fast when she is with me. It pounds hard when she’s not with me. It thumps loudly when I think about her. I don’t seem to have any control over my heart. I don’t mind though, because it is in good hands. Everything is perfect, except that I can’t confess. It’s difficult to confess to your closest friend, your childhood buddy. And being the silent, shy guy of the neighborhood, one can hardly expect me to confess. And there is of course the eternal fear—what if she rejects me? But it doesn’t seem right if I don’t confess either.

The fireworks—they are beautiful. This firework festival promised to be the best in town and it doesn’t veer away from its promise. I can see Hahyo’s eyes, now two honey-colored orbs, take in the breathtaking scene in front of us. She clutches my hand tightly and my heart gives an involuntary twitch. I know it’s time—time to put my fears away, time to give it up to Cupid, who I hope is watching over us.

“Hahyo, will you-you-you,” I couldn’t have found a better time to stammer. Every word I utter, I grow angrier with myself. Hahyo turns towards me with a serene smile. And that smile gives me the confidence, the last push I needed.

“Hahyo, I like you,” I manage in one go. Hahyo’s cheeks redden. Her eyes become light brown and sparkling.

“Me too.”

The cheers—everyone cheers as the last of the fireworks break through the night sky. My heart lightens. I hold onto Hahyo’s hand tighter as we gaze into the firework-lit sky. I don’t have to say the rest, because Hahyo understands me. She puts her head on my shoulder, but not before her lips brush against my cheek.

The fireworks—they erupt inside my stomach and warmth engulfs me. I know what awaits us is just as flamboyant as these fireworks. Because love has it's way of coloring a black-and-white picture. 

A/N: I I confess this is the first time I'm writing a fluff one-shot.