jungwon had always loved colors. he wore bright blues, deep greens, and shades of lavender without hesitation. his room was full of posters, tapestries, and lights that lit up his world in every hue imaginable. so, when he fell in love with her — a girl who saw only black, white, and shades of gray — he wondered what it was like for her to live without colors he couldn’t imagine not seeing.

they’d joke about it sometimes, like when he wore mismatched socks just to make her laugh. “are they both gray?” she’d tease, and he’d grin, telling her about the colors as if they were stories, trying to capture the vibrancy in words.

“so this,” he said one day, holding up a vibrant red scarf, “this is the color of... warmth.” he wrapped it around her shoulders, watching as she touched the fabric gently. she couldn’t see the red, but she felt his care, the way he tried to bring color into her world in every way he knew how.

when they went on walks, he’d describe the scene around them. “the sunset’s got a soft purple today, with just a little pink near the edges,” he’d say, tracing her hand in the air as if he could paint it for her. it became their thing — sharing a world he could see and a world she felt in other ways.

one night, as they sat under the stars, she turned to him and whispered, “sometimes i wish i could see the colors you talk about.”

he looked at her, her face soft under the pale glow of the moon, and held her hand, tracing circles on her palm. “you may not see them, but you make me feel them,” he said quietly. “every day, in a different way.”

she smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder, and for a moment, it didn’t matter that her world was black and white. with jungwon beside her, she felt as if she were living in every color she’d ever wanted.