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Our friendship was like a rainbow, now that I think back. Beautiful, but fleeting. Hard to find, but at the same time, hard to miss. People say that's what makes it all the more beautiful. I can't agree, because I'm not sure. Does the short amount of time he was here make his presence more valuable? More memorable? No, it doesn't.

Today was an odd day.

Of course, like most days, it started out normally. Woken up. Brushed teeth. Eaten breakfast. Day to day routines that have been repeated for years.

A break in that routine appeared when I went out to grab the mail. Oddity number one: a strange boy I've never seen before, sitting on the front steps, playing with our dog Noir. Oddity numero deus: Noir HATED people. Yet there he was, playing with that boy. Like they had known each other all their lives. How…odd.

The boy finally noticed me. "Oh, hi!" he greeted enthusiastically, grinning helplessly up to me in the doorway. Noir continued to lick the strange boy, dog slobber covering him. Ew. However, the boy's smile just grew, threatening to split his face.

"Nice dog you have here, what is he? It is a he right? Golden Retriever maybe? Nah, looks closer to a Labrador Retriever. Is he mixed? Though the two are close enough…" He continued to babble, seemingly not noticing the lack of response. I just continued to openly stare at him.

"What's your favourite color?"

My head snapped up suddenly, meeting eyes which had at some point became fixated on me. He was waiting for an answer.

"Ahh… I don't know?" My first words to him. A noticeably stark contrast with what he's said to me in the last five minutes.

"OH! I understand. There're just so many colors right? It's hard to choose just one," he nodded understandingly. If he only knew. "Still.." he continued, "I'd still have to say, red would win above all the others."

Grinning cheekily, he launched into another rant. He told me all about what red represented to him. Love, passion, intensity. At the same time, red stood for blood… anger, revenge. War. "It's not cause of that boy stereotype about how we all like destroying things," he admitted, "It's just.." he trailed off, glancing up expectantly, as if hoping that I'd understand. I didn't.

The next day, he came back.

"Hows for orange? It's a nice color you know. Vibrant. Hyper. Crazy?" he grinned easily, prodding me on. I just shook my head in a clear no. When did trying to figure out my favourite color become a game?

He laughed, as if expecting that. "Nah, I didn't think so. You're not really a… social butterfly, you know? Too quiet."

Retorting with a glare, I began to wonder why I was still talking to him. He had no right to judge me, he's only known me for a day! But he just laughed harder. I decided inwardly that orange was probably the color for him, if his explanations were anything to count on. Hyper? Totally. Crazy? No doubt.

"Say, do you like eating oranges?"

My glare turned into a look of confusion. What did that have to do with anything?

"Do you?" he prompted again. After a moment of hesitation, I replied with a small yes. The easygoing smile was back. "You know… I never did know why oranges were named oranges. Because they were orange? That has to be the most stupid reason for naming ever."

He looked at me for support. But I couldn't give it. So instead I replied, "Well, it could be worse. What if they named it 'blue'?"

He laughed like it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said. "Good point."

He didn't come this morning. Of course, he had no obligation to come and entertain me. I know that. In fact, he only did it twice, the first of which had been an accident. So apparently, Noir had jumped him. Why? I wouldn't know, since it's never happened before. Regardless, I couldn't stop the small stab of disappointment at his absence.

I took Noir out for a walk that afternoon. After all, that's the least I can do after neglecting him, in favour of the boy, the last two days.

He was so excited, like he was a wee puppy again, barking and tugging on the restraining leash when he got too far ahead. Smiling, I hurried up, jogging in a self-set pace. He ran around the corner, yapping at passerbys, when a furious tug came - pulling the leash straight out of my hand. Noir had 'attacked' a pedestrian.

Surprised, I jogged faster, ready to beg for forgiveness and fend off threats to call animal services. I was even more shocked to catch a glimpse of that same heart-warming, face-threatening smile. It was him. This time around, he caught sight of my form right away, beckoning to me for help with frantic hand gestures.

Satisfying my desire for revenge, I didn't. Then his motions became more anxious as Noir started licking his face, effectively tickling him. Sighing, I grabbed the leash from it's place on the ground, sharply pulling Noir off the unsuspecting boy.

"Gee, thanks for the help," he said sarcastically, wiping off his face. "Ughh, I'm covered in dog slobber."

"Your fault," I replied curtly.

After that escapade, he courteously decided to accompany me and Noir on our walk. Of course, I accepted, already forgiving him. We resumed our debate about the colors, though most of it came from him rather than myself. I neither minded nor tried to give my opinions, few as they were.

"You know, Noir would be the very representation of yellow."

I raised my eyebrows, turning my head towards him, to show I was listening. "I don't know about you, but yellow for me is… happy. Carefree," he looked at Noir - whom was curiously sniffing unidentified growth by the fence -"Noir… black doesn't really suit him you know? It's a shame he's such a dark brown. I could totally see him in a lighter shade."

"The flowers look pretty don't they?"

He named off the flowers, occasionally stopping and commenting on the pretty shade that flower was, or the bulb that would surely come out the most beautiful when it bloomed. Naturally, I kept quiet, not being as fond of them as most my age were. For a good reason, mind you.

We walked leisurely through the park, him chatting away happily per usual. Again, we had taken Noir out, letting him off the leash to run and play as he would in the safe limitations of the public park.

"What about green? The color of life," he clarified, looking expectant. Again with the colors?

"How about not?"

"God, do you not like any colors or something?" he looked personally offended. And I didn't reply, choosing instead to skim among the bushes for Noir.

Beside me, I heard him sigh and mutter dejectedly under his breath, before resuming his animated chat when he spotted a particularly 'colourful' plant. He left it alone. And I kept my silence.

The sky was fascinating, by his words. He told me about the sunsets and sunrises he's seen before, the colors that would dance and melt into each other as the sun rose or set. However, today, the sky was blue. Just a normal blue, he'd said. But an intense blue none the less, unobstructed by clouds.

"The sky isn't the limit you know. People always say it is, since it's impossible to ever touch. Always there, just out of reach," he commented lazily as we laid back in the grass, looking heavenwards, "but you know what? They're wrong. Man has gone past the sky before. Heck, we reached the moon!"

He reached out his hand, as if to grab something in front of him, balling his fist.

Blue represented sadness. Loneliness. Isolation. Blue was calming. Blue was relaxing. Endless, promising a forever. I bet that if I had a favourite color, it would've been blue. "Blue is a beautiful color. I bet it would suit you," he said, as if reading my thoughts. A gentle smile graced my lips. Maybe.

"I don't think it could be indigo," he said, staring into the glass of lemonade that my mom had so graciously provided us with. "I mean…" he continued, turning to face me now, "Indigo's so… weird you know?"

I urged him on with raise of my eyebrows, taking a sip from the glass in my hands. Cool and a tangy sort of sweet. Perfect for hot summer days.

"Indigo looks just like a dark sort of blue. So then, how would you know if you're looking at indigo, or a dark blue? Of course, the dark blue has a bit of a purple tinge, but you know, how'd you know you're not just looking at a dark purple then?" I lost track a while back, but motioned for him to continue, "Some people say indigo is the color of eggplants. But aren't eggplants purple? Is indigo actually a sort of purple then? What exactly is indigo?!"

Once again, we fell into a comfortable routine, again with his ceaseless chattering, and my quiet presence. One would think that an arrangement like this would be awkward. With the 'talker' unsure of where to stop, or if his companion was even listening due to the lack of response. Whereas for the 'listener', he might be wishing for the 'talker' to stop talking, wanting to enjoy a peaceful moment of blessed silence. But for us… it seemed natural. He was sure of himself, and trusted that I would be listening, as I would undoubtedly be. For myself… I like the sound of his voice. He was just so passionate about what he says, it was… captivating. Something new. Something different.

"You still there?" he waved a outstretched hand in front of my face, startling me out of my thoughts. "If I didn't know you so well, I'd think you weren't listening to me," he grinned. "So… indigo?"

Also as usual, I shook my head. He sighed again, probably wonder where he went wrong. Why he hadn't figured it out yet. What colors were left?

"Indigo is… mysterious."

Exasperated, he ran a hand tiredly through his hair. Why did he take everything so personally? Make it seem like everything was his fault to begin with. Trying to desperately fix whatever was wrong.

But it wasn't his fault though. No, it never was his fault. It wasn't his fault that when I was young, I could never color with crayons as many children had enjoyed. Wasn't his fault that I couldn't differentiate between the colourful crayons.

It wasn't his fault that I was colorblind.

That can't be fixed, no matter how hard you try.

I never had a favourite color. He's probably still trying to figure it out.

He never came today. I had gone through the entire day, just expecting to meet him somewhere. It wouldn't be the first time he came late. It wouldn't be the first time that he didn't show himself until I was certain he was gone. It wasn't the first time.

I waited the entire day. He didn't show.

But I found a letter. Sitting on the doorsteps, the envelope a creamy-sort of white, clear cut and pristine. There was no name, so the sender must've known who would've found it first. Me.

The writing inside was messy, as if written in a hurry, the pencil marks smudged near the edges.

Violet is the color of grapes.

Purple is the color of grapes.

Violet is the color of plums

Purple is the color of plums.

Violet is the color of irises.

Purple is the color of irises.

Violet is purple.

Purple is violet.

Then what is the difference?

I wouldn't know now would I?

The letter ended with that, there was no name. Nothing to indicate the sender. I knew who it was from anyway.

Going inside, I set it down on my bedside table, where it'd be safe, before going back downstairs, where my mom was cooking in the kitchen. "Oh, dear!" I turned back, giving her a blank stare. "Do you remember that boy you were with?" A nod in response. "I forgot to tell you, since he left for home today, Miranda told me to tell you that…"

"What?"

She stopped what she was doing, carefully putting down the knife, as she turned around. "What's wrong darling?"

"He's… gone?"

"Dear, did you not know? I just assumed since you've been spending all your time together…" she trailed off, confused, before picking up again, "He was staying with his aunt, Miranda, while his parents sorted out some… problems. But they cleared that up about yesterday? Yes, that's about right. He left earlier today to go back home."

I was surprised. No, shocked. Why didn't he tell me?

His home was halfway across the country. I'm not likely to ever see him again. That night, I fell asleep to the sound of raindrops hitting the window, wondering when the sky would stop crying.

The next morning, I was woken by bright rays of light shining through the same window. It was still raining, though it had now lightened to a drizzle. I pulled back the curtains, wanting to catch a glimpse of the outside world that had undergone such a heavy shower, absently wondering what changes could've occurred during my sleep.

Like that, I saw my first ever rainbow.

… the red was fading.

Years from now, I'm sure I'll still remember him. Even if I could no longer recall his face, that distinctive, heart-warming smile, I would remember his words. The conversations we had held.

The colors he had shown me.

And that's my first upload on this site. Good, bad, horrible? Some feedback would be nice. Like, I'm begging for it.

Much appreciated!

(Somewhere I read that authors live off reviews. Even though I'm a newbie, I will second that!)