Archive of Our Own

EXHIBIT I. RED

And I’d give up forever to touch you.

Perhaps it was the first kiss.

Changbin could remember the skies that time—sunset painted the scenery red. He was sitting comfortably on the grass, letting the warm gush of the wind grace his face. Though the sun was sinking, it was still bright. It was still enough to make him flinch, blind him even, so he resorted to averting his gaze from it.

It wasn’t really looking away if in that moment, he chose to look at Hyunjin.

His best friend was lying on the grass, head resting on his arms, the warm tint of the surroundings brushing his features. He was humming one of the songs he and Changbin listened to a few days ago, when they sat under the shade of a narra tree and shared Hyunjin’s second hand earphones he bought from Jisung’s garage sale.

“What if we finally…” Hyunjin trailed, but he didn’t finish.

Changbin raised an eyebrow. “Finally what?”

Hyunjin blushed. His cheeks were red.

“Finally find someone to date,” he said. “Since we’ll start high school, and all…”

“That’s likely,” Changbin admitted as Hyunjin sat up and stretched his limbs. “More pretty boys... and girls too, I suppose.”

“Mmm…” Hyunjin responded. “Do you think we’ll get kissed by then?”

Changbin chuckled at the question. “High school starts next week, and all you can think about is getting kissed.”

Hyunjin frowned at him. “I don’t want it to be like Jisung’s… Remember that day? We were playing hopscotch and he lost his balance and landed on top of Minho hyung and…”

Changbin laughed while Hyunjin shuddered.

“Why are you laughing?!”

“It was funny!”

“His first kiss got stolen,” Hyunjin huffed, crossing his arms. “Very unromantic.”

Changbin could only offer a shrug. “I mean, he did develop a huge crush on Minho hyung after that, so I guess it wasn’t really a waste.”

“Still!” Hyunjin wailed. “I don’t want to end up like him, you know. I don’t want my first kiss to be something sudden or abrupt or… embarrassing, in some way. Moreover, I don’t want it to be with someone I’m not comfortable with yet.”

“You don’t have to think about that now,” Changbin pointed out, but Hyunjin wasn’t listening. He had a finger resting on his chin, like he was drifting among his thoughts. Perhaps he was.

When his face lit up, he turned to Changbin. “What if… I don’t have to think about that anymore?”

Changbin didn’t understand what he was implying.

And so, Hyunjin added, “Kiss me.”

His eyes went wide. “Wh—What? Are you out of your mind?!”

“I said kiss me,” Hyunjin repeated, more firmly this time. “Please, Binnie, you’re my bestest friend in the entire world, and if I’m going to trust someone with my first kiss, it would be you. Like how I trust you with everything else.”

It seemed like a reflex when Changbin looked at Hyunjin’s hopeful eyes, and slowly trailed down to the slope of his nose, and then to his plump, inviting lips.

And they were red. Very red.

“I—“ he began, searching Hyunjin’s face for any sign of jokes. When he couldn’t find any, he simply sighed and nodded.

Changbin couldn’t even remember how he gave away his first kiss. Though, he did remember  a jumble of presses from his neighbor’s niece who called him pretty, and he also remembered deciding he was never kissing her—or any girl—ever again.

So, he didn’t mind Hyunjin’s offer. Not really.

He was also blushing a furious red when he replied, “Okay. It wouldn’t hurt, I guess.”

Up until now, he didn’t know who was the one who leaned in first. He didn’t know if he was the one who grabbed Hyunjin’s chin, or if Hyunjin was the one who took Changbin’s hand and placed it there. He didn’t know if he was the first one to adjust his position, or if Hyunjin motioned for him to do so.

But he did know that they met halfway.

Right as the sunset radiated its brightest red.

EXHIBIT II. ORANGE

And all I can taste is this moment.

Perhaps it was the long way home.

It was autumn that time, and they missed the train. Changbin had football tryouts that he didn’t know how long would last and Hyunjin, well, Hyunjin was just stubborn about waiting for him, no matter how long.

It’s how they ended up lounging in the waiting shed for a whole hour before ultimately deciding to just walk home.

They strolled down one of the roads that laid its path in between lots and buildings, one that was far from the bustling afternoon highway. This lane wasn’t quiet—but it was serene. Children were outside, still in their elementary school uniforms, playing toss and other outdoor games, grandmothers talking to each other while watching over their grandchildren, and the chirping birds above never went out of earshot.

In that lane, there were trees, ready to shed their leaves. It’s ironic how the end of a leaf’s lifetime turns it into something a little bit golden, and a bright orange.

“You’re tired,” Changbin commented as he glanced sideways to an obviously exhausted Hyunjin. “I told you, you didn’t have to wait for me.”

Hyunjin ignored him and hummed another song. After he reached the pre-chorus, his eyes lit up as he pointed at something. “Let’s go there!”

It was one of the homemade stalls you wouldn’t see everyday if you didn’t look for it, like it was reserved for that small, quiet place alone. Changbin raised his eyebrows as he scanned the menu.

“Fruit juices,” he said.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “Thanks for stating the obvious. The mango juice looks nice…” he turned to Changbin. “What do you want?”

He went through the menu once again. “I’ll go with the orange juice.”

“Excuse me!” Hyunjin called the attention of the assigned shop caretaker who was texting on her phone while waiting for customers. When she arrived behind the stall, Hyunjin laid out their orders. “Two orange juices please. Large.”

Changbin turned to him. “Orange? I thought you wanted mango.”

“Eh,” Hyunjin replied as the caretaker prepared their drinks. “I ultimately decided to just go with whatever you chose.”

Changbin scoffed, but he was smiling. “Why?”

“Just felt like it,” Hyunjin said. Their orders then arrived, and before Changbin could pull out his purse, Hyunjin didn’t let him. “My treat today. Then yours next time.”

Next time, Changbin thought as he watched the exchange.

There was, indeed, a next time. And another after that. And another. Because while Changbin never missed any football practice session, Hyunjin also never missed them, patiently waiting for his best friend to finish training. And every single time after that, they never bothered to catch up with the train. Instead, they kept choosing the long way home, back to the quiet part of the town where the children were free and the homemade juice stall stands. 

And they’d both buy the same orange drink.

To be honest, Changbin believed that he should’ve gotten tired of the flavor, considering how frequent he’d been drinking it. But he never got tired of it, not really.

Maybe it’s because Hyunjin was the one who’d call the always texting caretaker, and he’d always order two orange juices, and Changbin would let him because really, he didn’t mind, and Hyunjin seemed to like the flavor very much.

So they spent their long way home with a cup of take out juice on their hands, talking, reminiscing, daydreaming, and just walking side by side on the path where a pile of leaves who lived their life painted the road orange.

EXHIBIT III. YELLOW

You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be.

Perhaps it was the good news.

Hyunjin refused to represent their year level for three years now. Changbin understood why—his best friend never wanted to be known as the pretty one. That’s why every time their batch advisers would try to scout him for their Intramurals pageant, Hyunjin would decline the offer.

Senior year came by, and a desperate batch representative Jisung approached him. 

“He’ll listen to you,” Jisung had told him. “He always does. Please, if we don’t have a representative, we can kiss the title of overall champions goodbye.”

If only Jisung wasn’t desperate, Changbin wouldn’t have agreed. However, he felt a little bit guilty looking at Jisung’s hopeless eyes, so he agreed to talk to Hyunjin.

After long, endless minutes of persuasion, Hyunjin finally nodded. “Fine,” he said. “I guess the talent portion and Q&A doesn’t make it seem so shallow.” And then, in a low voice he didn’t think Changbin would hear (but Changbin still did), he added, “I’m only doing this for you.”

As expected, Hyunjin blew everyone away.

The pageant was held in broad daylight, just a few minutes after the sun reached its zenith. Its blazing yellow matched the fiery colors of the symbols of solidarity their batch prepared. Every year level had a color assigned to them. Seniors were yellow. That’s why there were yellow balloons flying, and yellow banners being raised, and a giant yellow tiger mascot running around the court where they held the pageant when Hyunjin was proclaimed the winner.

The entire batch was cheering, and Changbin was screaming the loudest, yelling for the entire world to hear that that was his best friend right there. 

And right after the announcement, he was met with Hyunjin’s eyes. Like his best friend scanned the crowd just to look for him. Because that’s what happens when there’s good news—Hyunjin would always look for Changbin first every single time to share that moment with him, even just through sharing gazes, no matter how far they are.

“I told you, I believe in you!” Changbin yelled when he saw Hyunjin looking. He was pretty sure Hyunjin didn’t exactly hear what he said, but his best friend smiled anyway.

When they put the shining yellow crown on Hyunjin, they motioned for all the seniors to come up the stage and take a photo at this moment of victory. Changbin passed through a lot of bodies until he finally managed to get himself to Hyunjin’s side, and he was immediately greeted by a hug.

“I told you,” he repeated in a softer voice now, because the words were meant for just Hyunjin anyway, and he was there, closer in distance even though their hearts were never really faraway. “I believe in you.”

“I know,” Hyunjin said in the embrace. “You always do.”

While their batchmates were scrambling to find their positions on stage to be able to fit into the camera frame, Hyunjin jokingly placed the crown on Changbin’s head, something Changbin tried to stop in vain.

“Oh come on,” Hyunjin pouted when Changbin swatted his hand again. “You’re my lucky charm.”

And when it was time for the camera to capture the moment, Hyunjin and Changbin weren’t prepared. But perhaps it was better that they didn’t. Because they were captured in their own little moment, the moment where Hyunjin was still sharing the wonder of good news to Changbin, smiling and laughing while looking at each other, the crown somehow flying above them.

They stood there, in the center of triumph, in their own little world, while everything around them—the banners, the balloons, the batch shirts on everyone on stage, and even the sun—blazed a bright yellow.

EXHIBIT IV. GREEN

And all I can breathe is your life.

Perhaps it was the almost.

College was different from high school. Everybody had their own schedules, and so, it was a bit of a challenge for Hyunjin and Changbin to meet, despite being in the same campus. Hyunjin’s plates that were due anytime soon just kept increasing and the amount of formal reports Changbin had to write just kept piling up.

That’s why Friday afternoons were a miracle, he thought. Because by that time, Hyunjin was finished with whatever task he had that was due by the end of that week, and Changbin had already submitted his own report. They’d always meet up under one of the trees around the Academic Oval of their campus, the sunken green field in the center. There was an acacia tree with evergreen leaves that provided shade for their spot, allowing them to enjoy the warmth without being blinded by the sun.

If he was being honest, it’s what he’s looking forward to every week. Because just like the field, the leaves, and every bright green in the portrait of their present, seeing Hyunjin was refreshing. No matter how much the week has beaten Changbin up, no matter how much the workload tried to take him down, just a glimpse of Hyunjin and he’d have a surge of energy running through him. Refreshed. Enthusiastic. Alive.

During those times, they would fall back to their old ways, where they open up their hearts to each other and recount the moments they aren't together. It was a routine that Changbin grew familiar with—under the shade of the evergreen leaves while looking ahead to an evergreen field.

“Bin,” Hyunjin told him that time, in a manner different than usual.

Changbin furrowed his eyebrows in worry. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” Hyunjin heaved a sigh. “Someone asked me out.”

He was silent for a few seconds far too longer for his liking. After that, Changbin managed to reply with a simple, “Oh,” and then added, “Who?”

Hyunjin pursed his lips. “Bang Chan.”

He’s heard of that name ever since he stepped foot in the university. Bang Chan was one of the extremely looked-up ones—smart, handsome, talented, rich, and very friendly. Incredibly nice too, from what they’ve been saying.

And Hyunjin, well, Hyunjin was just as great, just as brilliant, just as amazing. Like the rejuvenating green that lifts up your spirits.

“Nice,” Changbin told him, now picking on the green, green grass beneath him, avoiding Hyunjin’s eyes.

It seemed like Hyunjin didn’t share the sentiments. “ Nice?” he repeated.

“Why, what’s the problem?”

“That’s all you have to say?” Hyunjin asked him, and Changbin couldn’t miss the plea placed around the question. 

He could do it right there, tell Hyunjin how much he looked forward to Friday afternoons, how much he loved sharing the relaxing green scenery with him. He almost did it. He almost poured his heart out, and just spill everything he had to say to his best friend.

Almost.

But he didn’t. Because Bang Chan was smart, handsome, talented, rich, very friendly and incredibly nice. And Hyunjin, his dearest friend, deserved someone like that. Who was he to prevent that?

He wasn’t the bright shade on the palette, not the refreshing one. He’s on the duller corners, weary and worn out. That’s who he was.

“What more is there to say?” Changbin finally replied, still not looking at Hyunjin.

Silence hung around the atmosphere for a few, excruciatingly long seconds, before Hyunjin finally said, “Okay.”

Okay.

Changbin was feeling everything but.

It was his fault anyway. He chose to skirt around the region of almost, and because of that he was stuck. Now he truly felt like himself—dull, weary, worn out—and he tried to think of ideas to make himself feel better, even if they could just give him fleeting moments of distraction.

He relied on the green.

EXHIBIT V. BLUE

And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming.

Perhaps it was the fallout.

Changbin and Hyunjin have been inseparable ever since they made that sworn promise to be each other’s best friends when they were kids. And there lay the problem.

For four months now, Hyunjin had been going out with Chan. They fit together, Changbin thought. Knowing that Hyunjin has someone like Chan, Changbin was sure that Hyunjin would be okay.

He, however, was a different case.

“You missed my presentation,” Changbin told Hyunjin while packing up his booth in the fair. The sky was a bright blue. “You said you’d be here.”

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin apologized. “Was hanging out with Chan.”

“Of course,” Changbin muttered, rolling up the blue tarpaulin he put on display that had his entire methodology plastered on it.

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “He’s my boyfriend , Bin.”

“I know that,” Changbin told him, placing his other visual aids on the box the department lent him. “It’s just… you know how much this meant to me.”

It was true. Changbin had spent tons of nights talking to Hyunjin about it, about how his entire undergraduate career lied on this damned research presentation, and Hyunjin would tell him that everything will go well and that he would be there, cheering him on.

Everything indeed went well. But Hyunjin wasn’t there.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Hyunjin repeated, helping him out with placing stuff on the box. “It can’t be helped.”

Changbin sighed. “I understand,” he replied genuinely. “It’s okay. I bet it was important too.”

Hyunjin was silent for a while. And then, after a few seconds, “Actually…” he hesitated for a while, and Changbin stopped with the task he was doing for a while as a sign to urge Hyunjin on, to tell him that he was listening. “We watched… a movie.”

Silence.

“A movie?” Changbin slowly repeated.

“Yeah…”

“You—“ he cut himself off to let out a hollow laugh. “You missed this for a movie.”

Hyunjin didn’t reply.

Changbin took a deep breath and then proceeded to go back to cleaning up his booth. “It’s okay, you don’t have to help. I can take it from here.”

“Bin…”

Changbin didn’t respond.

“Binnie...”

He still didn’t.

“Changbin…”

Still didn’t.

Something in Hyunjin snaps. “You know why I wasn’t able to attend this?”

“Oh, please enlighten me!” Changbin replied, a bit of pain laced around the dripping sarcasm in his statement. “Tell me all about the movie!”

“Chan told me something last week,” Hyunjin continued, pointedly ignoring Changbin’s reply. “He was getting jealous of you.”

Changbin paused. And then after a while, he scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“Because I keep spending time with you, because I keep finding ways to still hang out with you, because—“

“You could’ve just told me that,” Changbin interrupted. “I would’ve given you guys more space. You didn’t have to…” Let me down, but he didn’t say that outloud.

Hyunjin still got the message. “I just didn’t want him to feel like he’s second,” he whispered. “He’s not.”

Changbin closed his eyes, letting the weight of Hyunjin’s words sink in. When he opened them, he was looking up at the bright, blue sky. “Then I’m stepping out. You shouldn’t come to me again.”

“Changbin—“

“Hyunjin,” He cut him off again, still not looking at him. “I can handle this. Just go.”

Whether there were moments of hesitation that transpired, he didn’t know. He wasn’t looking. But even if there were, they wouldn’t have mattered. Because in the end, Hyunjin walked away.

Everything felt blue. Not the bright one like the sky, but the dull one like the cracked ink falling off his tarpaulin.

He packed his things and heart up and made his way out of the fair venue. It was sad, heavy and blue.

He cried the instant he got back to the dormitories, cursing himself with how stupid he acted. It was sad, heavy and blue.

He tried to contact Hyunjin. There was no answer.

Sad. Heavy. Blue.

Days passed by, and they still didn’t talk. It was almost certain that they would never talk.

Heavy. Blue.

And when the fallout finally happened, Changbin could only feel and see one thing.

Blue.

EXHIBIT VI. INDIGO

Yeah, you bleed just to know you’re alive.

Perhaps it was the marks.

He felt pathetic, hunched over the sink while staring at his reflection of some worn out bathroom in the bar he was at.

There was indigo all over him. By the corner of his lips, by his entire neck, by the part of his chest that his top somehow managed to expose.

It’s been almost a month since he last talked to Hyunjin. And he was starting to think that all that stuff about how time heals the wounded was utter bullshit. Because there he was in the bathroom, back to square one. Back to the first time it hurt.

(Maybe he never left.)

He took the matter upon himself when time didn’t do its job. Opportunity came in the form of Lee Felix inviting him and a few other people to hang out at a nearby bar to celebrate the end of midterm season. 

And when an extremely handsome boy came up to him and dazzled him and told him he was pretty, he let himself get lost in the boy’s kisses as they pinned Changbin against the wall, somewhere far away from the dance floor, where the indigo lights couldn’t reach them.

Changbin thought he could do it. Changbin thought he could forget everything every time he parted his mouth to let the boy slip their tongue in, every time he was pushed further up against the wall in an uncomfortable tangle of limbs, every time his skin was marked with hungry lips—but he couldn’t. 

Because he still couldn’t forget Hyunjin. And no matter how far he’ll allow this nameless stranger to go, he still wouldn’t be able to forget Hyunjin.

So he pushed them away, just as they were marking up his chest.

“Sorry,” he said, breathless. “I can’t.”

The stranger only looked at him, huffed in annoyance as they fixed their hirt and hair, and then walked away without looking back.

Changbin retreated into a nearby bathroom and immediately headed to the sink, splashing water vigorously on his face, neck, and everything that’s been touched. Still, as he looked into the mirror, he could still see the marks that weren’t disappearing anytime soon.

Hot, frustrated tears were threatening to fall as he counted all of them, feeling ashamed of what he tried to do. In the end, a tear slipped when he finished counting.

Ten. There were ten marks.

They were all indigo.

EXHIBIT VII. VIOLET

I just don’t wanna miss you tonight.

Perhaps it was the dawn.

Irritation crept all over him as he stood up from his bed to see who was making that sound outside his window. He had a worksheet for his major that he had to finish and he was only able to do so a little bit past midnight. Every spare second of bedtime was precious.

When he peeked through his window, all he could see was the violet sky outside, an indication that the sun was rising anytime soon. Changbin opened his window and turned to look at his surroundings. He couldn’t find anything unusual until he looked down and saw Hyunjin sitting by the pavement.

And then he ran downstairs.

He quickly told the half asleep caretaker that he was going to have a friend over. Once he reached Hyunjin, his best friend immediately hugged him and sobbed on his shoulders.

“It’s okay,” Changbin consoled, rubbing small circles on Hyunjin’s back. “Let’s get you inside.”

Changbin held Hyunjin’s hand tightly as he guided him inside the dormitories, gripping a little bit stronger because he was afraid Hyunjin would slip away. Fortunately, they made it to Changbin’s room in one piece.

“What happened?” Changbin asked him when they were finally sitting on his bed. The sky on the window was becoming more and more violet.

Hyunjin took his time in answering. “He—Chan—“ he paused and took a deep breath. “We’re done. We’re over.”

Changbin let the silence take over for a while. That relationship was six months of Hyunjin’s life. In a lower voice, he asked, “He broke up with you?”

Slowly, Hyunjin shook his head. “I did.”

Oh, Changbin thought, but he didn’t say it out loud. Instead, he spread his arms out and offered Hyunjin an embrace, and Hyunjin immediately went for it, resting his head on Changbin’s shoulders.

“I…” Hyunjin continued, his voice trembling. “I couldn’t put him first.”

Changbin nodded, just to let Hyunjin know that he was listening, but he didn’t push any further. He just held his best friend, just like how he always does.

And everything came down to Changbin all at once. How much he missed Hyunjin, how he felt extremely happy that Hyunjin was within reach again, how it didn’t even matter that they weren’t on speaking terms for the past couple of months because Hyunjin still found his way back to Changbin. Like how he always does.

And Changbin held him. Pulled him close.

Hyunjin let him.

Hope that was once pushed away now blossomed again in his chest, clearing the shadows that used to invade it, just like how the sun was rising from a distance, ending the dawn, clearing the violet.

EXHIBIT VIII. IRIS

When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.

Perhaps it was everything.

Hyunjin was humming a song again as they strolled on the sidewalk, each of them holding an umbrella on their hands to protect themselves from the rain. His best friend wanted to get something at the mall, some kind of hair product he was going to use to make him look presentable in their graduation photoshoot. Public transportation within campus was full due to the rain, so they resorted to walking.

While Hyunjin was getting lost in the tune, Changbin drifted to his thoughts once again. Everyday that he doesn’t admit it, his emotional turmoil intensifies. And there he was, years later, still beside Hyunjin, still keeping this feeling to himself. Though a lot of things changed through the course of time, there were only two things that really remained — his feelings for Hyunjin, and Hyunjin himself.

He could hear the drip drip drip of the rain starting to slow down until it matched the mellow melody of Hyunjin’s hum, until it didn’t again, until it faded altogether. When the rain stopped, Changbin halted his steps.

“Hey!” Hyunjin exclaimed, still walking as excitedly closing his umbrella. “The rain stopped! That’s—“

He paused right after realizing that Changbin wasn’t following. Slowly, he turned around, worry written all over his face. “Bin?”

And Changbin simply stared in awe at the sight in front of him. Sure, he knew it was somehow true that there was always a rainbow after the rain, but he wasn’t expecting it to happen right there in that instant, in the exact angle where an entire bloom of colors was taking place in the background, and Hyunjin was in the center of it all.

And Changbin knew.

It was the first kiss, and the only kiss he ever treasured so far. Because it was Hyunjin he was kissing.

It was the long way home, where he’d choose thousands of miles beside Hyunjin over anything else.

It was the good news, always that little moment where he and Hyunjin shine the brightest, sharing their triumphs with one another.

It was the almost, the one time Changbin first truly felt that his feelings would mean their friendship was at stake. And he didn’t want to lose Hyunjin.

It was the fallout, where Changbin realized that every stupid decision he made was all because he couldn’t trust himself with what he was feeling, but none of that even mattered because in the end, he still felt them.

It was the marks, the reminders that no matter how much Changbin tried to erase and forget, it would still be Hyunjin. It would always be Hyunjin.

It was the dawn, when Changbin greeted the sunrise with hope because Hyunjin was right there with him again, because everything was going to be okay again.

It was red, and it was orange, and yellow too, and there’s also green, and blue, and indigo, and violet. It was every color in the spectrum, even the ones in between the seven shades, the ones that absorbed them all, the ones that reflected them too. 

It was everything.

Because in every color, in every moment, Hyunjin was there. And it didn’t matter what was happening because  in every single one of them, Hyunjin was there and that’s all that matters.

“Hyunjin,” he called out softly, still staring at the dreamy view in front of him. “You know it, right?”

Hyunjin’s forehead creased. “Know what?”

Changbin considered saying it some other time, thinking that an empty alley inside their campus while the rain just finished pouring wasn’t exactly an ideal place to do what he had in mind. 

But he looked at Hyunjin again and he figured that it didn’t matter.

Because no matter when, where, or how he does it, Hyunjin would still be there, full of life, vibrance, and color, as always. 

Changbin looked down at the ground and chuckled.

“Hey!” Hyunjin whined when Changbin did so. “You can’t just say shit like that! You’re making me nervous…”

With that, Changbin looked up. “You seriously don’t know?”

“Well I think I would if only you tell me!”

“I love you, Hyunjin.”

That seemed to catch the other off guard, because the words he was about to say never made it out of his mouth, and he remained standing still.

“That must be quite some heavy piece of information to process,” Changbin chuckled as he closed his umbrella. “Sorry that came out of nowhere.”

“I-I—I… uh… I…”

“Look,” Changbin started to walk again, even overtaking his still figure that was staring at him with wide eyes until now. He looked at Hyunjin and added, “You can do whatever you want with that information. I just figured you should know.”

But before he could turn around and continue his walk, Hyunjin was launching himself towards Changbin, arms immediately finding their place around his neck while Changbin automatically wrapped his around Hyunjin’s waist. Since none of them were prepared for the impact, the action caused them to both land on the floor, with Changbin sitting on the pavement while Hyunjin was leaning towards him.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Hyunjin chanted as he hit Changbin’s chest. “You’re stupid!”

“Hey, hey, take it easy!”

“Can’t you tell?!” Hyunjin continued, completely ignoring him. “Can’t you fucking tell?!”

“Tell what?”

“That I love you too, Seo Changbin!”

Changbin only blinked at him. This caused Hyunjin to hit him again. “Ow!”

“I never told you because I thought you didn’t feel the same…” Hyunjin muttered right after.

“Are you serious?” Changbin laughed. “You never told me about it because of that?”

“Well, you’re one to talk.”

“What?”

“You’re no better!”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Changbin conceded, but he was smiling.

He was met with Hyunjin’s hopeful eyes again, and he was looking at Changbin like he, too, held all the colors in him, like he was just as vibrant.

He didn’t know who leaned in first, but he did know that they met halfway. And once more, after how many years, he tasted color on his lips.

It wasn’t red, nor was it orange, not yellow, not even green, blue, indigo, or violet.

It was just Hyunjin.

That truth alone was everything.