Taehyun can’t seem to forget what happened the other day in the diner. Chaeyoung seems happy, and he finds it utterly weird. Not that he minds that she found happiness. On the contrary, he thinks she deserves it very much especially after what she has been through... because of him. But he can’t imagine how she does that. How can one smile like an angel and see the world in bright colours if they lost their vision due to a tragic accident only three years prior? However, he, the other party involved, seems unable to move on. He got stuck in the past, in that moment between life and death. He isn’t sure why but it can be something about the fact that that day he has lost everything that mattered to him: a lover, a friend, his music and himself. He didn’t mind his reputation, that was the last thing he felt sorry about. Still, it felt like the world crashed on him and he hated the weaknesses of his that it exposed. He still hates them.
Firstly, he hates when people can read him like an open book.
"You didn’t ask me how I turned blind," Chaeyoung tells him when he does finally go back to the flower shop.

He doesn’t intend on going at first. He just wants to breathe fresh air and take a peaceful walk around the town. However, it’s so small, it doesn’t take long until he goes back to the same exact spot he started from. Again and again, he always ends up somewhere on the main road no matter where he goes. And it’s there: the flower shop with its mint walls and sweet scent luring people in.
"People usually ask this first," the florist shrugs while her fingers make a quick work on the bouquet of midnight blue irises that he used as an excuse for his visit. His aunt’s birthday is coming up anyway and Minho has been trying to convince him that it would be a good idea to talk more with the girl of his nightmares, so he finally gives in.
"I..." he stutters, unsure. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t just tell her that he knows. But then again… what does he want to do? Why is he even talking to her? What does he hope for?
Taehyun feels the atmosphere changing but it’s not unsettling. It’s the first time that they addressed her condition. He never dared to broach the topic. He would never because he’s too scared of what he would hear. He has never been brave to begin with and he gives things up too easily. His music, his friends, his life. He is merely a shell of who he was. Sometimes he is afraid that he doesn’t even know anymore who the real Nam Taehyun is.
"Don’t worry. It’s not rude. You are just curious. Everybody is. It’s a human thing," the blind girl cuts his lame stuttering off with a lovely smile, the kind you use with children. Taehyun feels like one: small and vulnerable under the judgement of an adult. He fears her words and what’s going to come as she tells him her story, the rest that she didn’t mention in the bistro last time:
"I told you I wanted to be an artist but I haven’t told you that on the top of that I was quite good. At least, I hope I was. Not just a dreamer, I worked hard for it and my ambition led me to get accepted into one of the most prestigious art schools in Seoul. Can you imagine? A small town girl like me in the big city? It was a dream coming true even though I realized quickly that the crowds, the flashing neon lights and all that weren’t my cup of tea. But I loved Seoul since it was the source of our contemporary art and I adored that, all of it: fine arts, dance, music, you name it. One day I wanted to find inspiration out of the four walls because nature has always been closer to me. I got my sketch book, pens and headed downtown. It was the sunset. I can still remember the vivid colours of the setting sun: it bloomed like cherry blossoms..."
Taehyun remembers too but it has always reminded him of blood and flames.
"It was beautiful, the perfect picture just like the one I wanted. I didn’t think, it didn’t even cross my mind that I should look around before stepping on the road. There was no zebra crossing or green traffic light, I was reckless, too much of a naive village girl and I paid the price for it."
So did I, Taehyun thinks bitterly.
"The lawsuit was too much but my parents did it anyway,” Chaeyoung continues her story, fingers freezing around the pretty bouquet. “Turned out the driver was drunk but the judge declared that no sober person could have prevented the collision either. It wasn’t his fault and I don’t blame him for it. I wanted to tell him this but my parents didn’t let me. I have never once was allowed to talk with him..."

The way she trails off guiltily makes Taehyun wonder.
"What..." he croaks out then clears his throat just to get on with it. "What would you tell him if you could talk to him now?"
Chaeyoung doesn’t even hesitate, she looks at him, or at least where she thinks he is and just smiles sadly.
"That he should forgive himself."

The second thing Taehyun hates is lying but he has gotten used to it. Saying things like I’m okay were big fat lies but nobody really cared about the truth. Nobody but Chaeyoung who reads between the lines, who could tell his genuine answers and lies apart just by the tone of his voice.
"Will you sing for me one day?" she sits behide him on another day in the bistro. She doesn’t care about the whispering and gossiping guests behind their back, so he tries to exclude their noises too. He has gotten used to their chatting not making sense since he has been here.
It has been more than two weeks by now and Taehyun has never once seen anyone applying for the pianist job. But whenever he asked his uncle about it, he said that soon, soon he will find somebody. So the ex-musician spent these two weeks with playing the piano, eating more delicious home-cooked food than he had during the last three years, socializing with his uncle and aunt. And of course with Chaeyoung. He hasn’t been in the shop ever since that one visit he tends to call a mistake but the girl always seems to find him in the bistro. And not only when his music leads her to him.
"No," he says in a heartbeat, nonnegotiable. The florist pouts in disappointment.
"Why?"
"Because I can’t," he says because it’s easier to explain. Answering with I won’t would stir up the waters and he would get a lot of questions asked. White lies are real lies after all. Right?
"Liar, liar," she singsongs but laughs it off, not bothered at all. She stays by his side listening to him playing with closed eyes until Minho calls her name, saying that her dinner is ready. Taehyun can still feel her warmth beside him even when she is long gone.

The third is also pretty simple: he hates that he can’t say no to her, that he’s so weak when it comes to her. Maybe it’s guilt that he feels like he owns her that much but maybe it can be more than that. Something he doesn’t dare to name.

"Can I...?" she asks next time when they meet on the beach during sunrise. She can’t see it but he can feel the chilly wind and the goosebumps on her arm. She knows it’s nightfall but she doesn’t fear the dark. Not anymore. She embraces it.

At first, he doesn’t understand what she wants but the way she lifts her hand is telling it all. She would like to touch his face to know how he looks like. She would like to touch him. His skin already burns in anticipation as he takes a shallow breath. He should say no, he really should but he can’t and she takes his silence as a yes.

Her fingers are tentative as feather touches against his jaw and her nails slightly graze over the bump of his nose, the apple of his cheeks, his eyebrows and last but not least his hair, brushing away a few strands.
"What color is your hair?" she asks quietly, almost gently, careful not to scare. Taehyun feels his heart pounding in his throat as he draws in a short breath.
"Brown."

Chaeyeoun’s giggle is like a chime of bells. Pretty and melodious.
"But what kind of brown? Chestnut? Coffee? Mahogany?” she inquires further while a genuine smile is playing on her rosy lips, her fingers never leaving his face. It feels like she’s imagining painting him onto canvas. “You have to tell me the details, so I can imagine you. There are millions of colours."
The florist girl says it matter-of-factly as if it should go without saying but the pianist isn’t so sure. He isn’t the blind one yet he can’t see it. The colours in life. For him the world is made of black and white while a sightless girl can tell the difference between the shades of rainbow.

And looking at her, amusement clear on her face, eyes closed, smiling, he thinks that maybe he can try to. Maybe he can chase the rainbow.