A palette.

It's all coloured.

They're lying under a tree, the emerald green grass the perfect complementary colour to Misakis blazing red hair, framed by the sky.

"Today would have been my mums birthday" the smaller boy says.

Saruhiko looks up in mild surprise. Misaki never speaks about his dead parents and Saruhiko doesn't know more about them but their first names and that they came from Europe.

"How old would she have turned?" he asks finally. This is a chance he can't waste.

Misaki keeps silent for a moment and Saruhiko knows he's calculating.

"Thirty-eight."

"She was still young when you were born then."
"Yeah."
Silence again, but Misaki continues.

"We would have taken the car to drive to the seaside, if Dad had have a day off. Mum loved the sea. She used to say it's a symbol of nativeness. Humans would always find their way into the land, she said, but they'd never manage to tame the sea."

Saruhiko holds his breath. He has never heared Misaki speaking like that, without swearwords and without yelling. He sounds valuable and fragile and makes Saruhiko's heart pount in frenzy.

"And it's right, isn't it? There are things humans will never ever be able to control. It's like passion. We know damn well what's logic and what's right, but we forget it sometimes anway."

He pauses and Saru sees the sky in Misakis eyes.

"We cannot handle our archievements. It just goes above our possibilites, Saru. We have to accept that we're weak because of our sentiments."

He swallows and Saruhiko doesn't dare to breath. Doesn't dare to do anything that could interrupt Misaki.

"I've got my hair from my Dad, you know. He was british or something but he followed Mum to Japan. Her visa was over so he left everything he's ever known just to be by her side.

Funny, huh?

Mum was an artist. I still remember her paintings. I don't remember her face or her voice but I remember she could just draw something and it became alive.
Dad worked all day but when he came home he was always smiling, even if he was so tired he felt asleep sitting at the dinner table."

Misakis voice crushed.

"I wish they didn't have to die. I really do.

If they hadn't died, I wouldn't have had to live in this horrible asylum where they observed me and punished me and selled me as if I was an animal.

If they hadn't died, the doctors wouldn't have came for me and I wouldn't have to live in this big white house all made of windows. I hate that place, Saru. It's like living in a showcase."
He closes his eyes and Saruhiko wants to kiss him. Wants it so badly it's like physical need.

"But Saru?"

"Yes?"

"I still don't wish them back."
"Why not?"

"If they hadn't died, I would still live in the north and I wouldn't have come to this school. And if I didn't, I would never have met you."

Saruhiko blinks when he feels fingers curling around his own.

Misakis Mum is right.

There are things you cannot control, even if you knows what would be logic and what would be right. He has to accept he's weak because of his sentiments.

There's the blue sky and green grass and red love and everything harmonized just perfectly.