Colourful

“Blue for happiness, grey is joy, yellow is for tiresome.”

The world has been painted in shades since he was 15 and, since then, nobody has been able to explain it. There is no why or how, just colours that appear on his sight, covering with a veil reality, painting the navy of the sea, clouding it like a storm.

After a few months under his new condition, Mino has learned that all those colours have a meaning and that they are related to his own emotions. His therapist has agreed with him, and he has made a list, but even then, most of the time he can’t explain them, those sudden changes on them when he is feeling the same. Doctors said that it might be associated with some kind of blindness; that his eyes are getting the colours of the world in a wrong way and, sometimes, they have to adjust again, maybe becoming a little more ill. But, after all, this is not an answer and he has grown up accustomed to it, to see a different sky. Even if the tones doesn’t match what he feels, even if they don’t coincide with the colours he is used to for all the emotions, it’s alright; at least he knows, at least he can list them; his own tonalities for his own sentiments. And he thinks it’s beautiful to have something that only belongs to him and that no one else can understand.

It’s complicated to tell, but Mino likes it; he enjoys all the types of tones that linger on his life, making it more interesting, more intense and he is trying to make the most out of it. If he is sick indeed, he will use it to do something great, to show to the rest how his world works, how beautiful the grass can be painted in pink or the precious of a river of orange under the dust of a bright twilight bathed in citric tones. He is an artist after all. And, like an island, his paints are his refuge, the shelter where everything is alright, where he doesn’t have to explain, where his sight feels at ease, as if belonging to the white canvas and the pastel crayons. In his draws it doesn’t matter how he sees the world outside, it’s all about the colours he feel, how they touch his skin as they blear the real colours of the night and the day.

Today his world is painted in a shade of joyful purple. He feels excited while waiting for the new model for his last assignment. Someone has told him that this boy is alluring, made by the touch of a grace and Mino loves beautiful creatures as much as he loves drawing them. Words underestimated him; he is much more handsome than poems can express or songs can sing and Mino is left without voice, shocked at this great sight painted in gold and violet. He looks nervous, shaking hands and eyes that can steal Mino’s breath away, blinking confused. And his world just tremble under his glance, replacing all the known tones with a soft peach that seems to be growing from his heart more than coming though his sight.

His name is Kim Jinwoo and he is a professional model hired for the Arts School of Seoul, and Mino is going to be with him from the rest of the week, them both under flashes of pink that, with every passing day, turns more deep and intense and passionate, just as much as they have becoming close. There is no more happy purple or intense yellow after long hours working with him, but hot pink like Jinwoo’s hair that Mino wants to touch so desperately. This boy has captured his heart and soul and all the colours on the palette he holds; all he can see, all he wants to see from now on.

Even when his work is done and Mino doesn’t have more reasons to meet with him, he finds himself drawn to him inexplicably, searching him in every corner of this place, in every room, coming with all sort of excuses to talk to him once again. And when Jinwoo smiles at him, is like owning the sun, as if the stars in the sky shined for him and it feels wonderful just been by his side. He has painted his life with new shades and Mino knows that is love. There is no other way, no other reason why his world has turned into a deep ocean of lovely pink.

His heart pounds heavily and there is not enough air in his lungs because all it belongs to Jinwoo and he can get sufficient of him, of this gorgeous person from who his dreams are for, of his scent, of his stares, of a laugh that sounds better than any song, better than the best symphony. He feels all dizzy contemplating him secretly, and when he finds out, Mino wants to die, but Jinwoo smiles and he is three steps above heaven.

It’s been a few months of living in a world of all peaches and cream, with blossoming roses growing in his heart when he mutters the courage to ask him out. And his giggle is disarming, empting his mouth of all the beautiful words he wants to say to him, words that feels like rooting to his tongue because he looks at him and his gleaming eyes, bathed in pink, is all he can see. It should be purple, because the butterflies in his chest are tickling him and Jinwoo’s eyes are making him dazed, his face is dazzlingly and he is lost in his stare. But is still golden rose when he finds his voice, when he manages to tell him how much he has felt for him, how much he loves him too.

It’s when Jinwoo is going to talk when, suddenly, all turns into a shade of ochre and ginger and he doesn’t understand the meaning of it, and again, it changes into a flourish purple, like violets tripping into his eyes, filling his sight.  

“I – I like you too” Jinwoo rushes and he has to say it again because Mino is not sure if he has heart it well “I’m in love with you” and this time it’s clear, the sky opening for them.

His hands are soft and leaving traces of paint over him, stains of colours he has missed and that has nothing to do with what he is feeling, nothing to do with this overwhelming wave of love and relief and happiness. There are explosion of shades, all the colours in the rainbow and more, much more he can’t describe, covering them all, and when Jinwoo finds his lips, like fireworks, all the tones leave him, burning high in the sky, as much as his heart is on fire for him, for this kiss that is painting reality back to how it was before, leaving only a layer of soft golden pinkish that lingers on his chest, until penetrating into it, becoming part of it as well.

“You erased all the colours that were wrong. How did you do that?” he asks in wonder, amazed, like a new born seeing the light for the first time.

“I just… I kissed you” he says shyly, adorable and Mino thinks he doesn’t need to know, that what he truly needs is him, the one who embellishes his life with his own tones, the colours of love, the colours that belongs only to Jinwoo.