Red smells metal. Like rusting pipes or too much blood. Green is like ethanol, so strong I can almost taste the overpowering bitterness. Blue is marshmallow, sticky with childhood. And yellow? Yellow is the best of all. Yellow smells like her. She smells like yellow. They are one and the same.

I was thirteen when I first realised other people don't smell colours or feel words. I was playing a game with my group of friends, telling them what their names felt like. Amelia- orange groves and nettle tea and a hand stroking my hair. Leah- pine needles and the feel of strong gusts of wind. Jennifer- red apples and being squeezed around the waist.

I was fifteen when I learned the word for what I am. Synesthete. The word hangs like a bloom in my mouth. My own name, Eleanor, is yellow, but dark ochre, a sunflower blossoming on my tongue. Not the bright sunshine warmth she smells like, daisy petals winding in a chain around my neck.

I am linked with other people- an emotional synesthete. Their pain is mine to bear. It sounds almost messianic in its conception but it's less holy and more hurt. Seeing something happen to others causes a localised response in my own body. And she is so hard to be around, it makes fire burn in the pit of my stomach every time I see her.

But the heart wants what the heart desires and so I take the burning, thank it kindly, and endure.

Crohns disease it's called. I call it her own hell. Trapped in a body that's constantly rebelling. Joints that constantly ache, fatigue that follows her wherever she goes. You can't outrun your own body and I can't leave her side so I suffer through it with her, every flare up, every moment.

I know what I experience pales in comparison to the pain she lives with. I don't fool myself into thinking I can possibly understand. I'm aware she has it so much worse than I will ever know. But the pain is something that makes me feel linked to her, makes me feel a tiny part of what she's feeling and for that I am grateful.

It's been four years I've loved her in secret. Each day I promise myself today will be the day I tell her how I feel.

Each day, I break my promise.

Today I feel different. I feel ready. She walks into the classroom and as usual, I'm captivated. It's like even her aura is yellow, this blinding warmth that envelops me, making me feel safe. I'm not a touch synesthete but her hand on my arm feels like a breeze in summer heat, a jerking motion in my stomach like when you ride a drop on a rollercoaster. This, and the smell of yellow, is how I know she is different from the rest. This is how I know I love her.

Josh sits down next to me. Josh- grass and clover and a shiver down my spine. I wish he hadn't because now I'm stuck not sitting next to her but I try to let it go because I like Josh. Apart from the feeling that there's ice cubes being poured down my neck every time someone says his name, he's nice. Safe. My second-best friend, after her.

Lauryn. Such a sun splattered name.

Josh leans over to me.

"Did you do the homework?" he whispers.

Silently, I pass it over.

He mouths a thank you and hastily scribbles my answers onto his own worksheet.

Lauryn sits down across the room and smiles her sunshine warmth in my direction. Class begins and I'm occupied with work as a distraction from the blinding yellow pouring out over the room.

Lunch arrives and we sit together, me, her, and Josh. This time Josh is copying answers from the history work due in this afternoon. Lauryn doesn't take history with us; she opted for drama, something I could never bear to take, not even to be around her for an extra hour a day. She's in pain today. As well as being able to feel it radiating off her, I can see she's picking at her specially prepared food.

There's such a long list of foods she has to avoid; caffeine, tomatoes, lactose; the list goes on. The only trigger food she fundamentally will not avoid on principle is alcohol. Time and time again it curses her in more ways than just a hangover yet she refuses to stop drinking on the weekends, claiming the pain is worth the fun.

I disagree. On the Sundays after a house party when she's stuck in bed from the hangover and the aftermath of drinking, I go to see her and the pain is palpable in the room. It engulfs her, blistering through both mine and her bodies with the intensity of electricity. But she doesn't know I can feel it, so I bear my silence.

I never told her about the synaesthesia. It never came up in conversation, and to admit it would open up a box full of questions about what her name- and her- means to me. I can't face that: too cowardly, and so despite the years between us, this and my feelings remain a secret.

Who knows if she would even believe me? If it were not my life would I believe someone who told me they could smell colours and feel others pain without touching them? Perhaps not.

Rhian comes over to talk asking questions about my weekend. Rhian- cherry red and ferns curling under at the edges. The most disappointing thing is that my synaesthesia is the most interesting thing about me and I have nothing to tell Rhian about what I've been up to lately.

He's hosting a house party tomorrow. I'm invited, as are Lauryn and Josh. Obviously. Lauryn is invited everywhere, she's the social butterfly of our little group. Maybe other people can feel the sunshine burning off her, the warmth touching them like it touches me. Josh is also definitely invited- Rhian has had a crush on him for as long as I can remember. Red Rhian and green Josh- complementary colours on the colour wheel, an irony that doesn't escape me.

The day passes quickly after lunch; Lauryn talks of nothing but the house party and what she's planning on wearing. I chicken out, as I have done every day for the last four years, and don't tell her how I feel.

-—

It's time for the house party but I'm full of trepidation. Lauryn can't come, was rushed into hospital yet again last night. It seems her picking at her lunch yesterday was cause for concern and signalled a flare up that occurred late into the night. She was admitted to the hospital dehydrated and in a lot of pain but judging from her constant barrage of texts about how angry she is to be missing out on the house party, she's feeling better now.

I'm driving to the hospital before heading to Rhian's house to let her boost my confidence as well as trying to make her feel better about missing the party.

Pulling into the car park, Lauryn has texted me letting me know which ward she's on. I know my way around the hospital all too easily because of this friendship. So many texts late at night from either her or her parents informing me of what is wrong this time and the ward I'll make my way to in the morning, armed with the vegan chocolate brownies that my mum makes, which are on her safe foods list, or magazines depending on how long we expect her to stay in for.

As I head into her room she smiles, making my heart yearn just that bit more. The pain levels radiating from her are barely there, managed by the IV drip of medication leaking into her veins.

Her face soon changes as she notes my outfit.

"You're going without me?" She questions defiantly, as if I should have known better.

"I thought I would, yeah." I defend myself. "Rhian is expecting me and you know how I hate letting people down."

She doesn't reply but shoots me a look that says it all.

We both avoid talking about the party from there onwards and focus on neutral topics such as school. I promise to pick up the work for her on Monday if she's still not out and tell her I'll drop in tomorrow to visit again.

As I'm leaving, she calls out.

"Ellie...you look great."

The reassurance I needed and the permission I didn't know I was waiting for.

---

The party is loud. That's my first thought when I walk in. I'm instantly accosted from all angles by smells and colours and lights so bright it hurts.

I remember why I do not come to parties.

There's music playing loudly in the background which causes a flood of colours to surge in my brain and the sheer amount of people means the room is lit up like a rainbow spectrum, hurting my eyes. There are different smells- cloying, lingering and overwhelming. I can feel the emotions of most of the people I'm standing closest to, sense their insecurity and enjoyment all mingled together making me feel sick.

I take a deep breath and head towards Rhian's kitchen, spotting him along the way. He grins at me across the room and motions to the kitchen. He's caught in conversation with someone I don't know but I know he'll come and find me as soon as he's free and take comfort in that.

There's an assortment of alcohol lining the countertops and abandoned drinks from other party goers. Looking around to check no one's watching, I swipe a half full bottle of something that looks peach flavoured and tame. I take a swig straight from the bottle- no clean cups in sight- and wince.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Josh come through the front door and gravitate towards him, grateful to have someone to cling to in the midst of the spectrum of colours that threaten to overwhelm me.

"What's up El!" He shouts over the music. I shudder at the initial freezing sensation that Josh's voice elicits but quickly adjust as he continues speaking.

"This is awesome, isn't it? I'm so glad Rhian invited us."

I inwardly grin- as if Rhian wouldn't invite Josh- and nod in agreement. He motions towards a bottle of vodka gripped tightly in his hand. "Want some?"

I shake my head and hold up my own stolen bottle in reply. Whether it's the alcohol or the company, I'm relaxing more- the colours blurring around me.

We settle into easy conversation; the alcohol helping. I'm feeling better about having come until without warning, a group of people I don't know walk through the door, bringing with them noise and a stream of colour so intense it hurts.

I gasp from the sensation and Josh looks alarmed. There's too much happening around me and I can feel myself spiralling into my own head, getting caught up in the colour and feelings. My breathing quickens and I need air now.

"Asthma?" Josh questions, worried. I shake my head rapidly.

"Panic attack?"

I nod, easier than explaining the real reason- sensory overload. I've experienced this a few times in my life, always in busy, packed places where the colours overwhelm me.

He puts a hand on my arm and I flinch as the ice cubes trickle down my spine but let him drag me through the open front door and into the garden which is thankfully free of people.

"What can I do?" He asks, looking panicked himself.

"Rhian" I whisper, still choking on air that won't fully fill my lungs.

I need something calming right now and Rhian's metallic red will help ground me. Ideally, I need blue, something to wrap myself in, but there's no one here I know well enough who's blue who I will let see me like this.

Josh rushes off to locate Rhian and I gasp in cold breaths of night air. I'm calming down quickly now I'm away from people but when Rhian steps outside into the garden I'm still relieved.

"You wanna talk about it?" He asks.

And the weird thing is- I do. It's been years of keeping this a secret and I feel the need to finally, eventually tell someone about the weirdness I experience every day of my life.

"I have synaesthesia" I explain. "It's where the wires in my brain to do with senses seem to be crossed- I can smell colours and people all have their own aura of colour around them. I think I've always had it, and it's always there. Sometimes, when there's too many people around me, it gets too much- there are too many colours and sounds and feelings. That's what happened now."

Rhian doesn't look shocked by my confession. Instead, he looks amazed.

"That's so cool!" He exclaims. "What colour am I?"

"Red." I laugh. Is it really this simple? I've always thought people wouldn't believe me or would think there was something wrong with me if I told them. This wasn't the reaction I was expecting.

"That sucks. I want to be something cool like purple... or black like my soul." He dissolves into laughter at his own bad joke.

"Just be grateful you're not pink." I say, smiling.

"On the subject of confessions...." Rhian starts. "I think I like Josh."

"No shit."

"Shut up! It's not that obvious is it?"

I just snort in response.

But maybe... if I can tell him about the synaesthesia without him freaking out... maybe I can tell him about Lauryn too.

And so, I do.

I tell him about how she's my sunshine and how her presence is a warm glow on my skin I want to bathe in. I tell him how she makes the days a little easier just with the smile. I tell him all the pent-up cliché feelings I have towards her and how everyday I wish I had the courage to just tell her how I feel.

"Go for it." He finally says when I finish.

"What?"

"Go for it! Tell her."

"I try to. Every single day I try to but I can't. What if it ruins our friendship?"

Rhian shoots me a look of scepticism.

I respond by rolling my eyes.

"Now. There's a party to get back to. Do you need Josh to drive you home or anything?"

"I'm fine. I might even try coming back in for a bit."

Rhian raises an eyebrow.

"I'm okay! The alcohol helps dull the colours, I'll be fine."

Finally, after a lot of convincing, Rhian agrees to let me come back in after I promise that I'll stick by his side and tell him immediately if I need to leave.

Stepping back inside after the calm of the garden causes an assault on my senses. The party has got even more noisy in our absence with no Rhian there to keep everyone under control. Josh comes hurrying over and I reach for the vodka bottle still held tightly in his hand. He passes it over and nods at me, his way of asking if I'm okay. I answer by tilting the bottle to my mouth and swigging a mouthful.

Colours and memories get blurry after that but when I wake up in the morning on Rhian's sofa, sticky and grimy, I feel happy. I survived the party without Lauryn there to look after me. I have a vague memory of Rhian and Josh, heads bowed together in the corner, smiling at each other before heading upstairs.

Now, to head to the hospital. Spilling my secret to Rhian has made me feel braver, like I can do this. If he can tell Josh how he feels- and I strongly suspect that's what happened last night- I can talk to Lauryn.

---

Arriving at the hospital I'm once again full of nerves. Is today really going to be the day I potentially ruin our friendship and tell her?

The green smell of the corridors threatens to overpower me and I nearly back out but force my way through the oppressive colours to her ward.

She's not there.

I groan inwardly. She must have been discharged. Not letting it deter me, I head back through the maze of the hospital out to my car.

Driving to her house, all I can think of is the things that could go wrong. Do I tell her about the synaesthesia? Two secrets for the price of one. What if she doesn't believe me or thinks I'm crazy?

I pull up in her driveway, shaking with the enormity of what I'm about to do. As I knock at the front door, it opens instantly, as if she was expecting me.

"Rhian texted me. He said you have something to tell me?" Lauryn says, looking worried.

I could kill Rhian.

Without taking a minute to think- because a minute would be long enough for me to back out of this- I launch into an explanation. I tell her everything. About the synaesthesia, about how she's my sunshine girl, about how I've loved her every day for four years now. I talk about how synaesthesia and sensory overload has plagued me for as long as I can remember and how I needed her at the party to have someone to ground me, because the light that emanates from her blocks out all other colours and sensations.

I finally finish spilling out my feelings and stare at her with panicked eyes. How will she react?

She leans in to kiss me.

This is iridescence.