"What do you think… the future holds?"

"Huh?" A pause before the white haired male spoke again. "You're talking about strange things. What's going through that empty head of yours?"

White scoffed and reached over, pressing his hand down on his friend's head. "Just answer the question, you little brat!"

"Alright! Alright!"

The brunet moved his hand and crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. "Jeez."

Black tried to thread his needle, absentmindedly moving it through the tiny hole. White stared up at the sky, waiting for an answer. After a while, he didn't think that the other male was going to answer until Black adjusted his glasses.

"The future… is really unknown. I'd like to say it's white—pure and open, a canvas for me to paint over, but I feel as though it's black: muddled and dark and unknown what's going to happen all the way to the other end. And if there's something waiting for me at the finish line, I can't be sure." He picked up the scrap material and looked over to his friend. "Does that answer your question?"

"… Yeah," White stated absently, still staring up at the sparse, slowly moving clouds.

"Feh. What a weird guy…"

Black went back to his materials, looping the needle through as he practiced an experimental stitch. He pulled on the loose seam and pulled it all apart before he decided to patch up something serious. He side glanced over to the other male, who had by this time closed his eyes. He almost didn't want to ask, but.

"So what's your future like…?"

"My future…?"

"Your future, our future—whatever! Not that you can expect me to take care of you forever, you slacker." Black pouted his lips, pulling the needle up above his head as he glanced to the other.

White let out a thoughtful hum. "The future. I want to say it's… grey."

In an instant, he felt the needle prick at his skin and jerked away from the pain. He stared at the tight scowl on Blacks's face as he rubbed over the injured spot on his arm.

"Let me finish. Let me finish."

Begrudgingly, Black slipped away, leaning back into his former position, but that pout and that harsh glare hadn't waned. White continued on anyway.

"I want to say it's 'grey' because it's just so dangerous out there in the world, and trying to think on it in the future is just as bad."

"So why did you ask?"

"… I don't know. Sometimes, I just think on it. I, too, want to say that it's bad and black, or that it's pure and white, but it just isn't that way. It's not even completely grey, but if we want to keep it on that scale… It's some messy combination of colours and fragmented sentences that I can't even begin to explain, you know?"

The designer sighed and let his items fall into his lap. "Yeah, I know." He turned his sharp gaze onto his friend again. "I know that you're a weird guy!"

"Jeez, you're so harsh lately."

Black relaxed before turning his eyes to the sky. White followed his gaze, and they sat there for a few moments.

"It's… white…"

"Huh?" White glanced over to the pale haired designer.

"It's white, I think. I can't see any colour in it, and I don't think it's darkness. It just escapes me, and I draw a blank. I mean, sometimes… I don't want to care about the future! I don't want to think about it at all. Where I'll live, what I'll do, if I'll get," he grimaced, "'older'… I don't want to think about that, but when I finally do settle down and find myself thinking on it, I draw a blank. A long, drawn out blank, so I think there's nothing.

"There's nothing there—just a white, drawn out future."

The brunet blinked slowly. "You think that's bad?"

A beat of silence. "No… I don't think so. Maybe it'll even itself all out. It's much better than grey."

He brandished the needle again, and White leaned away from his friend, laughing nervously. Black smirked and lowered it down, bringing his gaze back to the fabric as he sewed it up.

"And I don't want it black either. For once, I just think it's a neutral shade of white—even though I'm not too fond of the…"

"…Purity…"

Black nodded slowly, his smile waning ever so slightly. "But right now, I think it just means 'confusing' or 'uncertainty' or something like that. I can live with that. It fits me better."

"Yeah," White agreed, tipping his head heavenward. "Me too."

Black looked over towards his friend, and saw that his eyes were already closed again. He thought to ask about what White meant about that, but he decided to let it go. It wasn't worth thinking about the future—so shaky and uncertain. He would rather focus on the here and now. It wasn't much, but… He couldn't imagine where he would stand in the fickle, strong river of time.