Lee Hayi had always seen the world in grey, literally and figuratively. It had always been that way. When she was a child, she would learn every existing colour there was by names – though visually (and logically), she would never make sense of it. She tried anyway, until she realised that there was no use. She gave up when she was seven, because what was the point of trying for something that you were certain would not work out, regardless the huge amount of efforts you put in. She gave up; everything was grey; and that was that. She placed her energy somewhere else, such as trying to be okay with what was and what was not. By the age of twelve, she didn't care anymore. Now seventeen, she was unbothered. She had eyes, could see, and what more could she ask for? She wasn't blind, and for her, that was enough.

It would be a lie – if she were to admit that she had never felt abnormal, or if she were okay with everything. It took her years to finally stop asking God to show her an out of a blue miracle. God never answered her heart-wrenching, desperate prayer, and by the time she gave up, she started to question whether God really existed instead. Again, that one too – like how she expected – was left unanswered. She had stopped questioning things ever since, for she believed that if her question of whether God really existed was left unanswered, all the questions that came after that were not worth questioning anymore. People said that she had quite a different view of the world, but that was how it was for her – she was forced to see the world differently for as long as she could remember, literally and figuratively.

She blamed no one – not even herself.

After all, it had always been like that for her. Everything was neither black nor white. Everything was uncertain.

Everything was grey.

It was supposed to be a normal visit to the hospital just like how it always was all the times before. It was almost normal – grey and depressing and deadly. Lee Hayi would visit in her school uniform, in the afternoon with fresh baby breaths that she would never fail to get from the nearby florist. Jung Jaewon would greet her with a mesmerising smile once she entered the suffocating room at exactly 2:12 p.m. every weekdays, 11:11 a.m. on the weekends. She would return the smile for a quick one second before her rosy lips would return to a firm line once again. Jaewon would always joke on Hayi’s expression, saying that his condition would get worse if she had that distressing look on her face every time she visited him.

“If that’s the case, then why aren’t you dead yet?” Hayi remarked. It was supposed to be a harmless question, but it burned Jaewon anyway.

Hayi usually spent about an hour and a half (sometimes more) in the room, talking to her one and only best friend who apparently had four months to live (according to the diagnosis), but she had visited him every day for almost six months now, and nothing had changed. He was alive, and she was there. She never questioned why and how and when. She accepted the fact just the way it was. If that were how things were going to play out, then she would act accordingly. Besides, she thought that that was better than having to enter the room and having no smile greeted her arrival. The thought of that made her stomach churn and it left a bitter taste in . She never let Jaewon knew, but ever since he was officially diagnosed with a terminal cancer, she – as much as she hated it – grew anxious and afraid. It was a relief every time she entered the room and his smile was there to greet her before anything else of his could.

However, Hayi could not deny that her fear grew bigger every time she left the room, too. She kept it bottled, and by the time she realised it, the fear had gotten bigger than her and she was helpless. Her heart was heavy; though she was pretty sure it was empty as hell to begin with. She finally came to a conclusion, and perhaps that was it; her heart was heavy with emptiness and nothingness. She looked at Jaewon then, and she wondered if he was afraid as she was. She wondered if he had troubles sleeping at nights for not knowing whether there would still be tomorrows for him. She wondered if he was ready, for she was not. She wondered and wondered and wondered, and that was all she did. The thing with Jaewon was that, he would always have a smile on his face, a rather bright one, and that too made her wonder – was she the one that was going to die, or was it him?

At this point, she figured she looked deader than he did.

“I’ll come again tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here.”

Promise – Hayi did not know when it had become a part of their routine to promise something uncertain like that, but she was more than glad and grateful that Jaewon managed to keep his for this long. It was kind of nice and relieving to hear him promising her that every time before she left. Any contrary or negative thoughts that surfaced after that she dismissed all of them. She had never really believed in anything – she was not a firm believer of anything – but he was her best friend, and she wanted to trust him. Therefore, she did – though it terrified her to do so. Everything was never certain for all her life, and death was inevitable. Yet, she trusted him anyway. She intended to keep her promise as long as Jaewon kept his. Logically, that was how it was supposed to be. Once Jaewon broke his promise, there was no point for her to keep hers anymore. She left the room and made her way along the empty and deafening quiet hallway. She never understood how silence could be so loud. She never would; she never could.

It was supposed to be a normal visit. It was supposed to be. However, she stopped in her track when she noticed something that was out of ordinary from the corner of her eye. It was extraordinary – if what caught her eye was real and absolute. Her fingers unconsciously gripped on the strap of her backpack tighter, and her hands and legs were slightly shaking. Her heartbeat quickened under her chest and she could almost hear the thumping of her heart against her diaphragm. She closed her eyes for a mere second as she thought that if she was just seeing things, then everything would be like how it usually was by the time she opened her eyes again. However, she was not just seeing things. She could still see them. They were still there – loud and clear and bright – as if they were waiting to be seen by her, and now they were exploding – like fireworks. She blinked, once, twice, and she was sure that she was not dreaming at all.

The door to the ward was slightly opened. It was just a few rooms away from Jaewon’s. However, Hayi knew much that what was inside was nothing normal and ordinary. It was not just another door; it was not just another ward. It was more than that. Though her feet were glued to the spot she stood, she strangely managed to move closer towards the door, though slowly. She could feel the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood the closer she got to the door, and she noticed they became clearer and brighter by seconds that passed that her eyes hurt from the peculiarity. She turned her head to the