Yanjun never looked at colours the way since he met Zhangjing. Every of his white pencil against the black paper reminds him of how pure Zhangjing is, how angelic, how shy and small the older was the first time they met. All he wanted to do was protect him.

White fits him the most when he's looking at everything full of interest and amusement, full of curiosity, full of excitement, full of childlike innocence. How his hands would run through the leaves everytime he passes by the garden, or how his eyes would gleam whenever he speaks about something he really loves— from singing, to food, to just about every little thing that makes him smile.

Blue is calm and so is Zhangjing. Despite being all cheerful and yellow, Zhangjing knows how to be all quiet, just like the sea. Gentle whispers tickling his ears. Words of assurance and encouragement, small hands holding his as they walk, his "It's gonna be okay"s repeated as the smaller holds both his hands, helping him walk forward when he's scared, jump higher when he can't and pick him up when he falls. He's always there, and so Yanjun concludes that he loves it when Zhangjing's blue like the skies and seas. All peaceful, all healing, all controlled.

He knows everything will be alright as long as he's with Zhangjing.

His blushing cheeks fits the colour pink, so does his pretty lips, and just about everything Yanjun wants Zhangjing to feel. The stolen moments, the little kisses, the giggles that escapes their lips as they talk about their busy mornings and misadventures. Pink was their colour.

Happy moments that were filled with sweet words, bodies wrapped around each other's. Beating hearts in sync, eyes locked against each other and Yanjun's heart that everyone considers as ice melts, melts, melts. Time slows down and it feels like forever yet only a second has passed. His eyes look away for a second and it feels like it's been eternity since he last took a good glance at him, their hands let go for a moment and he aches to hold it again.

Pink was the colour that was hidden under layers and layers of different colours. It was their little secret and Yanjun wishes that it would last longer, and the light pink goes deeper like he wants it to be.

Yanjun wishes that it will, up till now. He hopes that it will, he prays that it will.

Zhangjing’s hands are green because despite being from a faraway country, Yanjun weirdly feels so comfortable— like how his touches make him feel safe, hugs feel warm or how Zhangjing feels so familiar to him that he doesn't feel uncomfortable when he holds his hands. Just like a breath of fresh air, just like... home.

His hands were green but so are his eyes, despite hiding under the innocent white is a deep green that appears quite often. He finds them cute, but he knows that it made both him and Zhangjing shed tears at least once. If his eyes were green, then Yanjun's is too. Too possessive, too envious, too easy to jump into conclusions. Yanjun hates it, and so does Zhangjing.

Autumn is Orange. Crisp leaves falling down from the trees, cold air touching their skin. It was quiet and he hated how the summer and spring they spent together wasn't like this. Zhangjing wasn't like this before. Why do people change when they love something too much?

The sky is painted a dark orange, Zhangjing whispering that they're not how he wanted it to be. He hates how the orange contrasts Zhangjing's figure walking away from him. He hates that he can see it clearly. He chases, he chases