The blue left its home, the blue left its white.

Kyungsoo waited for Jongin.

The white waited for its blue.

"He is no man,"

"He is a monster,"

"He is an ogre,"

They said.

Kyungsoo was glad he was blind.

Was.

- - -

He searched through high and low,

and high and low,

and another high and low.

He waited at the same spot he had been waiting-- drowned in his thoughts, engulfed in people's words. But Kyungsoo kept on waiting and waiting and waiting.

He gazed at the sky--blue and white. Blue and white had always been together. It was always right from the start.

Blue and white, they were made for each other, like the sky and the cloud. When the sun goes down, the sky goes dark, the cloud goes dark. They may not be white and blue, but they are together.

Kyungsoo went deep into his thoughts again.

The sun went down.

The blue and white went dark.

Kyungsoo dragged his feet away.

"Kyungsoo,"

- - -

Jongin crept through thorns and shadows,

thorn and shadows,

thorn and shadows.

He looked at the same spot he had been looking-- watching his White-- was he really White? He was blinded by the whiteness still, but he knew that White was different.

His White was pure. He swear he could see some blitzers of red in this new White. Kyungsoo was white still, but not exactly White.

He wore the red.

The red.

Red he hated.

He hated red-smeared Kyungsoo.

He hated the non-white in Kyungsoo.

He hated the seeing Kyungsoo.

He cannot be seen.

The sun went down.

Kyungsoo turned his back.

He cannot be seen.

Kyungsoo, his red-smeared White.

He cannot be seen.

But he can be heard, can't he?