She saw him from the other side of the hallway. His shoulders were slightly slumped as usual, but he carried a fake aura of happiness. He smiled and waved at all his friends, evidently not seeing her. She was the only one who truly saw him, but he never saw her anymore. He didn’t see her because he lived in a blue-grey world, where she was the only color, and his eyes couldn’t seem to adjust to that.
Before, he was a sight to be framed, a masterpiece. The sunlight fell on his hair so perfectly it looked like a picture. His laugh lit up the sky in thousand different colors. His smile was like a saturated sunrise. He was colorful, and he dragged her into this colorful world of his.
But now his world is bleached off color, and she’s stuck there, screaming in color.
People talked about him like he was a hero. He was, in a way. They said he was brave for keeping his family afloat. People talked about how, even at such a young age, he was the breadwinner of the family, however little bread he managed to win. She heard them whisper about him, as if they knew everything about him. They didn’t. She did. She knew his mother had never been the same since his father left them. She knew his mother hardly responded. She only ate, slept and smiled at the television from time to time. He was responsible for everything in the household, and it drained him.
People said his brother was ungrateful and rebellious. They said his brother took drugs and wouldn’t live to be more than 24 years old. They said all that, but she knew better. She knew his brother was thankful for him. She knew he loved him even though he never told him so.
Even now as she saw him from across the hall, he seemed perfect. But everything was a little half-hearted. His laugh, his smile. He looked tired, and no one but she noticed. Even now, being ripped at every corner, he was still a masterpiece. She noticed the boy devoid of color when everyone else didn’t. But he couldn’t see the most colorful girl waiting for him, ready to help him.
She saw him walking passed her, finally surrounded by no one. She saw his shoulders droop further. She saw the stress lines etched on his face. She saw the slight frown that permanently graced his features. She saw his tired eyes, and he didn’t seem so happy anymore.
She stood there in full color and looked at him living in a world of blue and grey.
Blue because she knew he had not been truly happy in a long time. Blue like his jeans, blue like the pills she knew he was taking to keep his head above the water. She sees it all, and realizes that she, herself is wrapped up in this blue world he had created. Suddenly, wherever she looked, it was blue.
Except her. In the sad, blue world, she stood there, screaming in color.
Grey because nothing seemed clear to him. Grey, like that streak of hair that no one sees. No one except her. Grey, like the smoke from his cigarette, grey like the dreams he can never fulfill. She looks at him, at his world and notices that he’s so devoid of color that he’s forgotten what color looks like.
He thinks he’s alone, but he’s wrong. She’s right there. She stands in his blue-grey world, screaming in color, visible to everybody but him.
She wants to help, she is the only one that can. But he let her out, forgot about her, and she remained in his world, never able to get out. If he could just see her, she’s there, still there where he left her, completely in contrast to the grim colors of his world.
She’s there, screaming in color, if he would just turn around to see.