The Silent Canvas (Catnipz)

|| 15 ||

Haerin sat on the edge of her bed, the soft light from the lamp casting gentle shadows across the room. Her fingers were steady as she worked, the brush gliding across the canvas with a sense of ease. She'd been working on the painting of Minji for days, carefully capturing every detail; her focused expression, the warmth in her eyes, the quiet strength that Haerin had come to admire so deeply.

The strokes of color came together, the painting taking shape in front of her. The portrait of Minji seemed to radiate a silent power, a confidence that Haerin had often noticed but never truly acknowledged until now. She studied it carefully, taking in every little nuance, the slight curve of Minji's lips, the way her hair framed her face, the way her eyes held something distant, as if always contemplating.

Once the last detail was added, Haerin leaned back, her eyes softening as she admired her work. The painting felt like a piece of her heart, a reflection of her quiet admiration and deep care for Minji. There was so much she wished she could say, so many things she wished she could express in words, but the brushstrokes seemed to do all the talking for her. The image of Minji captured more than just her physical features; it captured the essence of who she was, of all the things Haerin appreciated and loved about her.

She sat there for a long time, staring at the painting, her mind drifting into thoughts of Minji. The kindness she'd shown her, the quiet moments they shared, and the way Minji always seemed to put others before herself. Haerin smiled faintly to herself, brushing her fingers over the painted face. She'd never told Minji how much she meant to her, but maybe this painting was a start, a way of saying what she couldn't with words.

Just then, as if on cue, Haerin felt her phone vibrate softly in her pocket. She paused, a little surprised at the interruption, and pulled it out. The screen lit up with a message from Minji, the familiar name flashing in the corner of her vision. Haerin's fingers hovered over the screen, her heart skipping a beat.

The message was short and to the point:
"Haerin, meet me at the school rooftop. There's something I need to talk to you about."

Her brow furrowed slightly as she read it again. There was something in the way it was phrased that made her feel uneasy. Minji was always straightforward with her, but this felt... different. There was no usual warmth in her words, no playful tone like Minji usually had when they'd meet up. Instead, the message felt distant, almost like there was a weight behind it that Haerin couldn't place.

She stared at the phone for a few more moments, her mind racing with questions. Why did Minji want to meet her on the rooftop? And why now, after everything they had shared?

Haerin stood up slowly, the sudden surge of worry creeping into her chest. She tucked her phone away, resolving to go and see what was going on. Something told her that whatever was waiting for her at the rooftop was more serious than Minji usually let on.

With a deep breath, she grabbed her jacket and headed out the door, her thoughts swirling in a mixture of curiosity and concern.

When Haerin arrived at the rooftop, the cold night air hit her, and she immediately spotted Minji standing near the edge of the roof, her posture a little more slumped than usual. In her hand, Minji held a bottle of soju, its label partially hidden in the dim light from the street below. She glanced up when Haerin approached, her expression softening slightly, though there was something different in her eyes; a hint of sadness that Haerin couldn't quite place.

Minji held out the bottle to Haerin, offering it with a small, almost hesitant smile, but Haerin shook her head, politely declining. She didn't need the alcohol to understand what was going on, especially with how Minji was acting tonight.

Haerin signed, her hands steady but the concern clear in her movements. "What are you doing here so late at night?" she asked, her eyes searching Minji's face for answers.

Minji let out a soft, almost hollow laugh before putting the soju bottles down on the ground beside her. She didn't meet Haerin's gaze right away, instead focusing on the city lights far in the distance. Her hands moved in slow, deliberate signs as she replied, "I just missed you," she signed, her eyes briefly flicking toward Haerin's before looking down again, a quiet sadness settling in them.

Haerin's heart tightened. There was more to this than just missing her. Minji's eyes told a story she wasn't sharing, something heavy, and Haerin could feel the distance between them, even if they were standing right next to each other.

Haerin took a careful step closer, her heart racing, unsure of what to say next.

Haerin took a careful step closer, her eyes softening as she signed, "Has something happened at home?"

Minji stood still for a moment, her gaze fixed on the distant city lights. After a pause, she slowly shook her head, though there was a heaviness in her eyes. She signed back, "It's nothing that hasn't happened a hundred times before."

Her hands were slow, the words tinged with exhaustion. The weight of her response seemed to hang in the air, thick with unspoken history. Haerin's chest tightened as she watched Minji, sensing that there was so much more beneath her simple answer, but Minji wasn't ready to say it out loud.

Haerin stepped closer, the space between them shrinking until she gently wrapped an arm around Minji's waist, pulling her in just slightly. The warmth of her body, the quiet presence, offered a sense of comfort that Minji hadn't realized she needed until now.

Minji tensed at first, but then she softened, leaning into Haerin's embrace. She didn't have to say anything; the silence between them felt safe, like the world outside didn't matter in this moment. Haerin's gesture spoke volumes, a quiet reassurance that she wasn't alone, that someone cared.

Haerin stayed like that, holding Minji without a single word, letting the quiet of the night wash over them. Sometimes, the best way to comfort someone wasn't through trying to fix things, but through simply being there, offering what little warmth they could in a cold world.