“You’re freaking me out.”

Hayi understood the boy well. She understood because she was freaking out as well. If there were a stranger coming up to her, cried, and almost ran away the second time they met and that was because they saw colours from her, she would be freaking out, too. She understood the scenario all tad too well. What she failed to understand was the fact that the boy was now sitting across her, with a strawberry milkshake in front of him. He seemed to be focusing on his beverage since no words had been exchanged between them the second they got there. She failed to understand why she was there, and why he was there, and why they were there. Everything that happened was still a blur for her. She couldn’t understand anything at all; why he suggested them to have a talk, and why she, strangely, agreed.

Hayi tried to ignore all the colours that were radiating from him. Therefore, she looked around the huge cafeteria they were in, and for the first time in forever (technically, it wasn’t for the first time, but it was intentionally), the world appeared to be in colours; at full exposure and high in contrast, clearly and brightly colourful. She gently rubbed her eyes, a contrast to the harsh knocking of her heart against her chest. It wasn’t as painful as the first and the second time, and she didn’t cry. She then shifted her focus to the park just outside the cafeteria. They picked a table far secluded at the end beside the huge windows, and she settled her focus on everything but the boy dressed in the hospital clothes in front of her.

It was weird and strange, for Hayi, because it seemed as if she had entered a brand new world—a world that she could only imagine in her mind to be in before, and yet she was there—completely and definitely there—that she couldn’t help but immersing herself into the scenery beyond the windows. Dried, yellow leaves scattered all over the ground— piles of orange, red, brown leaves forming and covering the earth beneath them. The sun had melted away, making ways for the grey, heavy clouds and depressing tears to pour down ever so heavily. Her fingers were cold and shaky on her lap—she was shivering for some unknown reasons—perhaps it was the colours. Perhaps it was the boy. Perhaps it was the weather that was piercing against her skin (it was, somehow, raining heavily that day though the weather forecast said otherwise). Perhaps it was the unwavering stare the boy had on her. Perhaps it was all four reasons combining altogether. She could not pinpoint which.

“So…”

His voice pulled Hayi’s back into reality. She failed to notice it before—due to shock and all the overwhelming feelings over what was going on—but she realised now that his voice had a sharp edge to it, so uniquely different—it was one that you’d know right away that it was his—and though it was kind of sharp, it was quite warm as well. She placed her attention on him, though she didn’t want to, and she tried to match his intense stare. Looking at her now was a pair of confused—and perhaps, curious, too—eyes, that she grew uncomfortable and anxious. However, she knew he meant no harm. She could sense it—heck, she could feel it. He meant everything but harm. She was anxious simply because of the new world that happened before eyes, and how it all happened because of him.

“I’m sorry for freaking you out,” Hayi was quicker to ensure that silence wouldn’t fill in the atmosphere once more. It was probably just an illusion, just like how everything was in her eyes, but she noticed how his gaze on her softened right then and there. His dark brown orbs turned caramelly soft against her words as a gentle smile grazed his lips. He stirred his drinks with the straw, but he never took a sip of it.

“Don’t be,” he replied. “I was just joking.”

Hayi never understood what he meant by that. She wanted to ask, but he told her that he needed to be back to his ward soon, and that he asked her to save her stories (of why she cried and ran away from him, and her mumblings of ‘colours’ all over again when they met for the second time today) the next time they met, to which Hayi asked, “We’re meeting again…?” her voice low than what she intended to. Her question gained a chuckle from the boy.

“You come here every day, don’t you?” he asked. “So, yeah, we’re meeting again. If you want to, of course.”

That left Hayi to be even more confused, but she nodded anyway—absentmindedly agreeing to what he suggested. He offered her one last smile, but before he left, he made sure to acknowledge her name.

“Hayi,” she said. “My name’s Hayi. Lee Hayi.”

“I’m Hanbin. Kim Hanbin,” he introduced himself as he walked backward, his eyes never left hers. A smile was permanently plastered to his lips—a smile that Hayi never knew was capable to haunt her even in her sleep because it seemed darn harmless at that time—and he gave her a two-finger salute.

“See you tomorrow, Lee Hayi.”

And just like that—just as quick as the lightning that flashed before her eyes—the world faded to grey once more.

Hayi didn’t know when and how her friendship with Kim Hanbin started to bloom. She thought that it was just another empty promise that she was yet to encounter, but Hanbin proved her wrong when he purposely waited for her on one of the empty chairs that was placed against the grey wall of the hallway that linked all the wards—including Jaewon and Hanbin’s. He was there the next day, in his light blue hospital clothes, sitting cross-legged on the chair with a mobile phone in his hands. Hayi then learned that he was a heavy gamer, just like how any other boys at their age would be acting. He waved her over, and though it was supposed to be a brief visit to Jaewon, it turned out to be a five-hour visit that day—with her spending another two hours at Hanbin’s.

Hayi didn’t realise it all at once, because it was an undeniably gradual process, but when she did, Hanbin had already become a person that she considered as friend. Not as close as Jaewon, of course, but he was a second close.

It felt almost natural to her, when he waited for her and waved her over to his room. It was awkward at first—she expected that because she was not a good talker after all, and she was still embarrassed with what happened the day before—but Hanbin was better than her at socialising and surely, soon enough, the ice was broken—not completely, but slightly. Hayi could tell that in no time, the ice would be completely broken, judging from how good he was at it. She couldn’t tell what it meant though, so she left it at that. Anyway, during the two hours meeting, other than immersing into the colourful situation that was occurring right in front of her eyes, she learned a lot about the boy named Kim Hanbin.

Apparently, Kim Hanbin, just like her best friend Jung Jaewon, was dying as well. Hayi wanted to laugh at how ridiculous everything was—at how funny her fate was. She held her laugh back anyway, because she thought that though it was funny to her, it surely, definitely wasn’t for him. He suffered from acute myeloid leukaemia, and though he said that he wasn’t told for how long he would be able to live, he was ready if his time was up. She wanted to tell that he was not really dying, because from his story, it was mentioned that his disease can still be cured. She remained silent as her words were stuck at , and probably sensing that the atmosphere turned gloomy and depressing at the topics of his disease and death, Hanbin was quick to change the topic, to all the lighter ones.

Both of them didn’t realise it then—that their first two-hour meeting was definitely not their first and last official meeting. They met again the next day, and the next, and all the upcoming days that followed along after that. It was innocent, so child-like—how their friendship was formed. It was that kind of thing that you never noticed it was starting to leave a mark, not until you placed close attention to it.

Hanbin revealed that he had long noticed Hayi before she did of him. He told her that he would turn seventeen in less than a month, and that he went to the same school as she did. In fact, they were in the same grade, only different classes. She questioned why she never noticed him before,