You’re a quiet person. You love to put yourself away from public. At school, the field is the most favourite place for you to spend more time with yourself with a white canvas and colours. Painting is your hobby. Nature is like a friend for you.
One fine day, while you were enjoyed painting, a guy approached and sat beside you. That guy was no other than Yesung, your classmate. This guy used to disturb and trouble you at some. You never know what was the reason he acted like that to you but some ‘friends’ said that he likes you.
“Yah! Don’t you feel boring?”
You sighed and rolled your eyes. You wished Yesung wouldn’t ever appear in your life. Unfortunately, he already has.
“Geez! Your drawing is so awful” Yesung said.
You ignored to his words and wanted to leave in hurry. You put the colours and brushes backed to his case. Then Yesung came to lend his hand. You said nothing but deep in your heart, you hate to see that guy touched your things. In that case, you accidentally splashed the water in a cup that has mixed with colours onto Yesung shirt. You were shocked as same as Yesung. However, you said nothing and just leave him just like that.
“Aishh, jinjja. What’s wrong with this girl. Yah! Don’t you know how to say sorry?”
You kept ignoring each word from Yesung.
It had been very late since you had your tuition class after school. The sky already dark and the moon already showed itself. You hugged an empty canvas tightly in your arms and bravely walked in dark under the lights of the street lamps.
Suddenly, you felt like someone was following you from back. You make your steps slow and turned your back quickly. As you looked behind, there was no one even a shadow. The street was absolutely dark if it was not because of the street lamps lighten the street.
You continued your journey. After a few steps, you saw a group of boys with their bikes were gathering at the left-side of the street. You could smell that they were naughty and bad guys. You looked around you and wished that you were invisible and unseen. Unluckily, you were real. You went through the biker group and suddenly someone grabbed your hand. You were freaking shocked till fall your canvas onto the road.
You closely closed the eyes.
“Yah, it’s me. Yesung.”
You automatically opened your eyes as soon as you heard Yesung’s name. You looked on your left-side and there was Yesung standing just right beside you; holding your hand. You even could feel the warmth of his hand.
“Ssi, are you alright?” A biker came and asked you.
Again, you were shocked and quickly hide yourself behind Yesung. You were just like a cat cling to her master.
“Bwoya? What’re you afraid of?” Yesung asked you. “Nae. She’s fine.” Yesung answered to the biker’s question before the biker backed to his group.
You slowly brought yourself out from Yesung’s back. Your cheeks were blushing out of blue. The face was getting hotter and the forehead started sweating. You took your canvas that had fall onto the road with a shaking hand. You felt embarrassed for what had you done just before.
Your home journey was continued. In the dark under the lights of the street lamps, you then been accompanied by a person, Yesung. You never thought whether it was a coincidence Yesung and you walked on the same road or it was a part of his plan to trouble you. However, you felt relieved because there was someone you knew in your way. But then you thought, why should you feel relieved about that?
You had arrived at your house. At last, your journey was ended. A sigh of relief protruded from your mouth. Then you smiled, felt very thankful for the safe journey even it was a little thrilling. You gently opened the gate and caused a little squeaky sound. As you brought a step into the lawn, suddenly Yesung called you. You stopped and looked at him.
What’s again now?
“Next time – let me accompany you home.”
You said nothing and waited for the next words.
“If you thought that you’re brave enough to walk home alone, I’m too afraid to let you be alone.”
Aish, this punk! Is there something have to do with his brain?
You still couldn’t believe of anything on Yesung’s words.
“Y-Yah, why don’t you say anything? Am I talking to a statue?” Yesung changed his tone.
Why should I talk to you?
You glanced towards Yesung and went into the lawn, straight a way to the house.
Again, Yesung’s words stopped you.
Yesung walked forward and stand right behind you before the gate.
“Saranghaeyo. See you tomorrow. Jalja.”
You opened your eyes widely when you heard Yesung confessed his feeling. You thought you might be mistaken about what had your heard. You turned your back and saw no one. Yesung just leaved.
On the next morning, there was no Yesung in the class. As you thought, he must be kidding on you last night. But as soon as the teacher brought news of disaster which Yesung had killed in an accident, your tears suddenly brimmed the eyes. Your heart was broken. You just realized that you already make hope to meet him on that morning. You had waiting for him since the last time you met him on the previous night. You just noticed about your feeling towards Yesung.
“Y-Yesung. Yesung. Yesung-ah.” For the first time, you used your voice calling for that guy. Yet he was not there to hear it.
The pupils went to your place and calm you. But it was not them you need on that time. You only need a guy who used to disturb and trouble you to calm you. A guy who lent his back for you to hide. And a guy who fall for you and make you fall for him then. A guy with name Yesung.
You attended the burial ceremony of RIP Yesung at his parents’ house. There you gazed at his picture at a long time with a broken heart and brimming eyes. On your way out, you saw a lady with basket of clothes went to somewhere. Yet you noticed a shirt with colour splash on it.
“Excuse me.” You approached the lady.
The lady stopped and turned her face to you.
“Whose clothes are these? Where do you want to bring them?”
“These are the young master’s clothes. Madam asked me to gather and throw them out.” The lady explained.
“Throw out?” You felt uneasy when heard that Yesung’s clothes going to throw out. “I’m sorry. Can I’ve this? Keep this as a secret, jebal.” You took a shirt with that colour splash on it. It was a shirt that Yesung wore on the day you accidentally splashed the water with colours on it.
“Yae. I’ll keep this secret.”
“Kamsahabnida.” You bowed to the lady.
You brought the shirt home and spent all the time staring at that dirty shirt. Your fingers played with each inch of the shirt. You then had an idea to renew the shirt. You painted a dark street with many street lamps on its side and a couple showing their backs walked on the street by holding hands on the shirt. The street instead the couple referred to the last night you met Yesung.
“This is for you, Yesung. Mianhae.”
You are like the dirt of the colours that gets onto my shirt. It is awful and hard to erase. The longer I let it be, at last an image is drawn. You colour my life. And I am the canvas.
The longer I wrote this, the more I lack of ideas. Eheks!