Chapter 1 - Colorless Painting
Saka POV
It was still early when I left my dorm room. I had a morning class today, but it shouldn't have been this early. There was nothing left for me to do in my room, and I figured walking to campus might fill the time that was dragging by so slowly. As I stepped out of the building grounds, an overcast sky greeted me. It was already the rainy season, so I'd prepared a folding umbrella in my backpack. It wasn't anything serious—I was carrying my laptop, and it would be a huge hassle if it got wet. I didn't want to rush just to avoid the rain, either. I wanted to make the most of the time until tomorrow, Saturday.
The sky was still on my side. The rain didn't start until I was already inside the classroom, sitting in the same seat I used in every class. The seat to my right would always remain empty until class ended. No one sat there, as if everyone in my faculty knew that it belonged to someone who had once been there. The seat to my left wasn't exactly popular, either. Only a few people were willing to sit there, and only when they had no other choice. Not many people wanted to make small talk with me or respond when I tried to make small talk with them. I wasn't ostracized. I could socialize just fine. It was just that, ever since that incident, nothing had been the same.
“Saka...” Rio waved at me. He was one of the few people willing to sit to my left, like today. “Hey,” I greeted him. “Finished your assignments?” “Of course. You?” “Not yet.” Rio scratched his hair.
Realizing class was about to start, we took our laptops out of our backpacks. As a sixth-semester accounting major, I wasn't a particularly smart student. My advantage was that I had more free time than the other students, so I never had trouble finishing my assignments. While other students piled up their assignments over the weekend or waited until the deadline was close, I started working on mine as quickly as possible. My grades might not have been perfect, but I always finished everything on time. That way, I still had my weekends free for the trip to Palagan, a city I had visited almost every weekend for the past eight months. The train ride took at least six hours. To afford it, I had to be extremely careful with the money my family sent me, and even find extra work by offering my services and time as an odd-job worker at cafes or restaurants in the city that needed help. Yes, I was going to Palagan tomorrow. I'd take the first train at five in the morning and arrive a little after eleven. After eating at the station, I'd continue the trip for half an hour on a rideshare motorcycle. The evening train would take me home. Around midnight, I'd arrive back in Sibaru. Just thinking about it filled me with energy.
As expected, after eating and buying lilies, I arrived at my destination a little after twelve thirty. It was a central rehabilitation hospital for people with mental disorders. After signing the guest book, I headed to the room where Saskia was being treated.
“Kia...” I called softly to the girl with her back to me. Saskia, who had been staring at her painting, slowly turned around to look at me. “Arjuna,” she replied. A broad smile immediately spread across her face. She stood up and walked over to hug me. “You took so long. I've been waiting for you.” “I always come at the same time, after you eat lunch,” I replied, hugging her briefly in return. I replaced the wilted lilies in the plastic vase with the flowers I'd brought. “I painted you. Look...” She took my hand and pulled me closer to her painting. I smiled. Just like her other paintings, Arjuna's face was displayed on the canvas. “Do you like it?” she asked, looking at my face. “Of course. It's beautiful. Thank you.” She nodded. “Is it finished?” “Yeah.” “Then I'll take it with me.” I quickly removed the canvas from the wooden easel I'd bought about six months ago. Since it was held on with nothing but paper clips, I was able to take the canvas off and roll it up in no time. I opened my backpack and pulled out the new canvas I always brought when I visited, then put Kia's painting inside. Reversing what I'd just done, I attached the new canvas to Saskia's easel. “There. You can paint again now. Which colors have run out?” Saskia fell silent. That meant I had to check for myself.
I opened the desk drawer and looked at the scattered paints. Over time, the variety of colors Kia used for her paintings had dwindled. Her paintings were still as good as ever, but they had grown gloomier, and... Arjuna's face in them was drifting farther and farther from his real face. There were only two colors I needed to bring next week. Luckily, Saskia wasn't a patient who posed a danger to herself or others, so she was still allowed to keep things that were useful for her recovery. In addition, Kia's family had placed her in a private room. I'd met both her parents several times while visiting Saskia, back when she was still being treated at home. Eventually, they gave me permission by putting my name on the list of guests allowed to visit their daughter at the hospital.
Going for walks or sitting in the garden was part of our routine. Sometimes Saskia would fall silent, lost in her own thoughts. But often, she talked more, discussing past events with Arjuna while believing I was him. At times, she would rest her head on my shoulder and let me stroke her long, straight hair.
When I first heard that Kia thought I was Arjuna, I wasn't disappointed. We had never been particularly close. Even though I'd always liked her, I'd never treated her as anything more than my friend's girlfriend. I never felt angry. I didn't think I had the right to be angry at the situation, let alone at Saskia. She and Arjuna had been dating since high school. Arjuna had always been friendly, funny, and kind, so many people liked him—especially his own girlfriend. Being here with Saskia brought my best friend to mind. But the more often I came here, the more I realized that Saskia was the reason I kept coming back every week. She smiled at me differently than she used to. She held my hand, linked her arm through mine, and rested her head against me. She spoke to me as if I were someone important to her. Of course... I knew she did it because she thought I was Arjuna. But being near her—being treated as her lover—had become an addiction to my mind and body. I had never imagined that I would come to love Saskia this way, but now I was sure I cared for her more than I'd realized.
On the trip back to Sibaru, carrying the painting of Arjuna's face in my backpack, I would feel happy, guilty, and like the biggest bastard in the world—a friend taking advantage of his dead friend's death, someone enjoying another person's pain. I would feel so many things until I reached my boarding-house room and placed Saskia's rolled-up canvas painting in a storage tube. There were twelve paintings in there now. I never opened it again. I couldn't look at Arjuna's face after what I'd done.