dream (winter dream.)

characters: yeonjung, sejeong

summary: winter is always black and white... much like all of her other days.

note: the edited version of the fanfic "winter dream" which i don't think i have ever posted anywhere. also, the concept here is monochromacy (which rarely ever happens to anyone, let alone to a girl.) another thing, this was supposed to be up by tail-end of december but idk i got lazy lol (sorry about the other updates too ㅠ)

White and black.

Yeonjung had always wished her winter was something else other than black and white. Funny how it could not—she was bound to spend every cold season of advent in the same grayscale portrait of loneliness. That, and likely all other days of the year as well. Yeonjung could only see from a two color perspective: black and white... probably what went in between, too.

During Decembers, she would wander around the city, looking for things to draw, scenes to sketch using her black pen and white paper. It had been a tradition ever since she left the convent which sheltered her for about fifteen years.

The streets were busy as usual because of people guilty of last minute gift shopping. Yeonjung found a bench to sit on just across a bush of poinsettia flowers. She knew they were red, but whatever red meant or looked like, Yeonjung knew least. The flowers were all but shades of black and gray at the end of each petal, pale and white whenever light passed by them.

Yeonjung knew what light meant. She also knew what dark meant. Light was to white and dark was to black, that was what she was taught when she was young.

She grabbed her tools and began stippling her model. The amount of dots told people about the shades; for Yeonjung, they were her guide and representation of what she saw. Nobody around her knew how unfortunate she was when it came to seeing things... literally.

A few more points and she was almost done with another masterpiece for the month when bell sounds clung into her ears and another lady joined her company, sitting on the other side of the bench.

"Hey, that's nice," she regarded her artwork. "It could've been better if it was colorful."

"Yeah," Yeonjung stared at her pad then heaved a sigh. "If only I knew what other shades were."

Yeonjung paused for a while and laughed at herself. The stranger did not know what it meant and she thought she had to orient her.

"I can only see and tell colors from the grayscale pattern... black, white... gray. I think it's something I've gotten from my parents."

"Oh—" The stranger shifted toward Yeonjung when she looked up to see who was talking. Yeonjung could not tell what the lady's hair color was; she guessed it was gray when her eyes fooled her between the pigments of black and white. But when she stared at her face, the stranger's lips were rarely too dark for her eyes to tell. Yeonjung remembered how lips were supposedly pink or red in shades and the lady's lips made her imagine that they could be made of the brightest shade of red.

"Sorry about that," the lady's lips formed an upward curve, Yeonjung smiled at her too and assured her she was fine. At least she did not have to hide the reason why she couldn't paint on canvas with colors other than black and white.

"So did you get it from your mom or your dad?" the artist was asked.

"I don't know... Never got a chance to meet them," Yeonjung frowned remembering how she had always also been an orphan. "They left me to the nuns when I was a baby... same winter time like this."

She was so sad that moment.

Yeonjung knew she had always been a good child but why should her parents dispose someone like her? It's something that got her curious and had burdened her ever since.

She looked up at the sky, the dark sky for her—black for the night with little white dots depicting stars. She felt lucky when the snowflakes started dropping from up high. Snow—something perfectly white that she knew. Yeonjung was to remorse about her life again when the stranger apologized.

"Sorry 'bout that again... um.."

"I'm Sejeong," after a long pause, Yeonjung finally knew the name of the person she was talking to. Both of them smiled at each other and shook hands.

"Yoo Yeonjung," she told Sejeong.

"I work at that coffee shop," Sejeong pointed far across them, the building past the poinsettia flowers Yeonjung took a sketch of. Yeonjung never saw that before but now it’s there. "It's getting quite cold, do you want to come over there to grab a drink? Don't worry, my treat."

Without hesitation, Yeonjung gave into the offer and soon found herself inside the said coffee shop. The warm, crispy breeze that reminded her of autumn welcomed her inside. It felt as if it wasn't winter at all. Yeonjung took a seat next to the counter where Sejeong began mixing various ingredients.

"Here ya go," Sejeong handed her a small cup of coffee after blending the said things into a warm, aromatic master piece.

Not bad, Yeonjung thought while savoring its scent. She hadn't have herself a nice liquid to drink after that orange drink she had last autumn. Whatever the color of that drink was, she's pretty sure the name's orange.

Closing her eyes, taking her very first sip, Yeonjung felt a tepid line flowing from down to her stomach—something about the coffee gave her a sensational feel she did not have before. It wasn't that sweet, not that bitter, its taste was something just right only enough to wake her up for the rest of the night.

"It tastes—" Yeonjung pressed her lids together, finding the right word to describe how the flavor was and when she seemed to have found it, she uttered the term. "Wonderful!"

"Really?" Sejeong smiled and appeared like she was glowing in front of the artist. Yeonjung couldn't hide her stare, the striking appearance of the woman in front of her nailed her eyes fixed. Something was just so wrong about her when Yeonjung opened her eyes a few seconds ago. It seemed like she wasn't the Sejeong she was before, something else had happened to her.

There was a strange reflection of images Yeonjung's eyes showed her. Everything was different. Everything changed. She wasn't seeing with monochromatic eyes anymore, it was a new perspective she had never had before.

Rainbow.

Everything had color; everything had its own shade that was never just made up of black or white or whatever went in between anymore. A wide range of shades enabled Yeonjung to see much of the world, the colorful world.

Not believing, she rubbed her eyes again and again, each time she would look at Sejeong and her red, the shade she had been presuming, lips. She couldn't stop until the lady in front of her asked her if she was fine.

"N-no!" Yeonjung did not lie. Everything was bizarre, a miracle. All of a sudden, she was seeing things in the palette of the artist—something she had been wishing for came true.

"You're funny! Pretty honest, too. Why? My coffee caused an allergic reaction to you?"

"No! It was something worse! Or—better!" Saying those words, Yeonjung almost choked. "Or weirder!"

"What happened?" Sejeong on the other hand, took another sip of her coffee.

"Sejeong," Yeonjung pointed at the lady's hair. "Your hair, it isn't gray, is it?"

Sejeong looked at her big curls, took a handful of strands and stared at it before shaking her head at the artist, "It's blonde, actually."

The artist froze for a while before turning around, realizing that it wasn't just the person in front of her that had its color in full bloom. Everything surely evolved from a monochromatic dimension to a million shades of hues.

"They're real!"

"I can see them!"

"Colors!"

*

That night of a miracle in December, Yeonjung told her new found friend about the sudden transformation of her vision. Hard to believe at first, but she was ever so thankful about that unforeseen phenomenon that crossed her path.

"My coffee is wonderful, it did that to you," one with the blonde hair kidded. Yeonjung deducted that it could be a possible reason. What else could account for that sort of thing to happen anyway? She hadn't done anything except stippling and drinking coffee that night.

"Thank you so much!" Excitement was in the artist's veins, was she ever giddy that night. "I want to see how it looks like outside!"

"Can help you with that," Sejeong smiled.

So that night, Sejeong accompanied her outside. They sat on the same bench where they first met an hour ago. Sejeong showed the young one how each color of the rainbow looked like. She started off with violet, then indigo, then went up until she reached the last color of the pattern.

"If that's red, then..."

"Then?" Sejeong couldn't wait to hear Yeonjung's reaction.

"I think... your lips are too... red. They're too red."

"Oh! My lips? Yeah, they are. People usually take notice of that... How does it look like in grayscale?"

"They're too dark"

"More like black?"

"No, not really" Yeonjung assured her.

"Sejeong.."

The lady tilted her head at Yeonjung the moment she heard her name being muttered.

"Will you mind if I take a sketch of you?"

"Not at all!"

Yeonjung smiled upon hearing so; her model sat across her where the poinsettias were her background. She didn't hesitate taking her paper out of her bag, and then she pulled this box she had inside that contained some things she had never used before.

"Wow, you sure are ready for the moment you are going to see colors"

Yeonjung smiled, "Yeah, it's something I've always been wishing ever since... you know... It kinda gets bored when you keep on seeing the same shades of things... it feels like you are different,"

"You're not that different from any people I've known. I mean—not different but, you just have something that sets you greatly apart from them... you got something that makes you unique..."

"Unique?" she repeated what she heard. Sejeong nodded her head.

"You have your own set of colors. You have your own view of the world, something that not one would simply see how the world really is..."

Yeonjung smiled. Yes, she had her own monochrome of reflections but she would rather see things in full color scale. Viewing things in limited shades made her feel like she was a prisoner of the reality, the reality she had just known.

"I'd rather see rainbows," she whispered, starting to drop spots on the paper using her colored pens.

"Oh, you'll never know."

When Yeonjung completed her model's hair and face shape, it was the time to struggle copying Sejeong's well defined face features—her eyes, nose and lips. Yeonjung would brush off some mistakes when she couldn't do the same points as her model. Yeonjung thought that when she would sketch Sejeong's face in monochrome pattern, it would have been much easier. Painting in colors was so complicated.

"There!" She handed Sejeong her finished product. It wasn't that as great as the latter thought. Not disappointing either, because Yeonjung was able to draw her the same as in pictures. What ruined the masterpiece were the colors.

"I wonder how it will look like in black and white?" Sejeong grinned at her.

Yeonjung was just about to withdraw her black pen from her bag when Sejeong told her that she had to leave.

"I'm really sorry! I can't stay longer! But we'll see each other again anyway next winter," Sejeong assured her before leaving.

Yeonjung failed to hand her Sejeong's portrait so she kept it. She sat back on the bench and stared at the poinsettias when the same bells rang and its sounds clung into her ears once more.

That's when Yeonjung woke up.

She woke up to find out that the poinsettias were still halfway done. She was just dreaming. Her vision was still black and white and whatever went in between. It saddened her. Everything from a while back was just her imagination.

She sighed, taking her things. She no longer had the inspiration to finish her piece for the night so she placed it inside her bag. A paper buried deep down bothered her so she took it. When she unfolded it, something hit her.

Everything was still the same.

Black and white.