WildFire

35

Blues, whites, grays, and purples. The setting sun illuminating the world—everything having an orange glow as if about to burst into flames. Thick, confident strokes covered the canvas, and everything had depth. Every color mixed together had its own ideas it wanted to project: the violets as a token of your confidence, the swirling grays representing the turmoils you had endured both physically and mentally, along with the occasional light blues as your desperate, pathetic, never-ending hope.

Perhaps not all would see the meanings behind the color as you have, but that was okay with you. Nobody else needed to know anyways, and perhaps it was better to be more obscure.

I hope he understands though, you thought wishfully, as you leaned back to observe your work so far. I hope he finds it pretty. I hope he finds it meaningful.

Of course, if he didn't, that would've been okay with you too.

Funny how that worked.

Obviously you would've been a little more than disappointed, but you were used to being weighed down. It was strange, because no matter how he might've hurt you, there would always be a part of you that loved him no matter what.

That part of you was delusional, desperate, petty, pathetic, but it would do whatever it took just to see his smile once more. It was cliche and honestly, a little cringey, but you truly would give him the whole world to see his knowing smirk.

"Hah," a little breathy laugh escaped your lips as a thought occurred to you. "World domination, huh?"

Memories were a powerful thing–and the best ones truly could not be forgotten. And you had so, so many of them with Kunimi. Letting them flow in your head was probably not the best idea, but you didn't care.

They all blurred together, each one containing a story, and all with a line of bright light surrounding it.

A cicada, twitching nervously as you gently picked it up, dropping it into a box, then looking for another by ear. You, boasting about world domination with the bugs as you caught the creatures in little plastic boxes that had been abandoned at the park while Kunimi stared down at you with mild disgust, shaking his head and complaining about the pests being gross.

A sheet of paper in your lap instead of the normal, much lighter canvas that you always brought to the park. Kunimi's eyebrows scrunched together in frustration as he tried to explain how math worked. You, pestering him with nonsensical questions, and with each one, him, granting you a long sigh of exasperation.

Him, offering you his prized snacks of salted caramel whenever your stomach growled in protestation while painting in the park, then taking it back when you laughed in delight—amused by his sweet nature underneath his unpleasant cover. He handed it over in the end anyways, and you had enjoyed the sweetness and the sharp saltiness that came with it entirely too much, though your plea for another was thoroughly rejected.

Both of you racing through the park, trampling over grass and kicking up loose dirt as each tried to outrun the other. Your smug grin when you reached an oak tree first—the one you had decided to be the finish line—and Kunimi's indignant protests on how he wasn't even trying, and if he did, he would've beat you. You had replied with an eyeroll, and he had thrown out his arms in exasperation, adding a comment on how you had cheated. This argument had been solved with a simple game of Rock, Paper, Scissors—leading into your victory and Kunimi sullen expression.

Two lanterns side by side, brimming with a dim light that wouldn't have been much if not for the hundreds of them there were. Most were all from strangers, crowded together and holding hands, letting their lanterns go in memory of the water lantern festival that lasted for a whole three days.

You, scribbling your wish in hasty characters, then peeking over at Kunimi's trying to read his out of curiosity. Him, pushing you aside and snatching away his lantern protectively within his arms. The memory was a bit fuzzy, yet outlined in a warm, golden glow that you couldn't possibly forget as you both let go of your lanterns, watching it float away.

You still remembered the crooked words you had written on the lantern before releasing it into the water–it was the exact kind of thing Kunimi would've laughed at:

I want us to be happy.

Even now, you weren't sure who the 'us' was referring to. Your family? Kunimi and you? The world in general? It was such a vague yet huge request, and maybe even a little selfish. No one could be completely happy—that's what made life life-like. But you supposed while you weren't entirely happy, you were happy enough. Happy enough to smile everyday, happy enough to laugh, happy enough to love.

You wished everyone to be happy—especially Kunimi.

You smiled down at your painting, proud of the art you made. It made little sparks of joy run through your body, sending little pinpricks of excitement throughout your body. The painting made you happy.

You hoped it would make Kunimi happy as well.