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Blue, it was blue. The color of the Seine, the color of his hair, the color of her eyes. It was everything.
When his dad left, it was the Sea. Or the river rather. The deep blue waves had a strange effect. His breathing had slowed. The waves crashing against the shore stirred his mind. The current matched something in him. His heartbeat with the slow motion of nature’s life-giver. And he felt calm.
When he reached lycee, it was his hair. Things made so little sense, everything blurred by day by day. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t anything. He had panicked, it had been a bad decision, but he needed something that he could control. Mother had told him he was too young to go dye his hair, to disobey orders. So when he returned to the boat with blue in his hair. His mother had been livid. Juleka asking to dye her hair too probably hadn’t helped. After he escaped to his room everything felt...slow. In a very good way. As he picked his Guitar that night, he could hear each note, each a dancer in his grand play, his symphony. He felt back in control. He felt... in charge. When he arrived at school, he heard all the gasps and questions...but also, he heard none of it. Which was music to his ears.
As he arrived back home, he found his mother in the doorway, her face melting into an indiscernible expression. When she hugged him, he felt nothing. He asked her if he was still in trouble, and she laughed. Only saying that should she should have never taught them about Liberty and Freedom so early. The next night Juleka muttered ‘Purple’ in the middle of dinner.
When he saw her eyes, he felt..alive. The deep blue of her eyes captured him in an instant. His heart jumped in his chest as he heard the intricate solo that was her song. It twirled like a Ballerina, weaving its notes into his heart. He knew he was smitten. There would be no one else but her. There couldn’t possibly be.
He thought she was coming to him too. There was something between them, surely she could feel it also. That electricity, like a crescendo in his heart. But when he came, her song shot up, sliding everywhere. He was filled with her, but she was filled with...him. It took him a while to figure it out, but when Adrien grabbed Kagami’s hand. He knew how it would go. He would let her chase him. Eventually, she would run out of hope. He didn’t return her affections. She would see. And he would be next to her, for her. When she needed it. He couldn’t force love. That wasn’t right for anyone. So he would let it flow. Like the River.
And she came. After a hectic day, she came, filled with tears, screaming bloody murder. Her head rested on his chest as he felt her warmth. She came to him. She looked across the river, at the 2 of them, but she looked back at him, her terror morphed into….that. Those eyes reflected his own, and the world stopped. The expression she wore left him breathless. Her head rested on his chest. And life was perfect.
The nights were enjoyable. Her room was a pleasant place to stay, even if it had one unusually bare wall. Above ground, the steadiness of land shook him. The rockiness of the waves had long become his home. And his footing was unsure, never unsure as hers, but his tripping triggered the wonderful sound of her giggles. If his embarrassment brought out that sound at every fall, he would gladly adopt red on his face for eternity.
The smell of sweets was always pleasant. They flowed not only to his stomach, the helpings full of treats provided by her parents putting a few pounds on his ‘skeleton bones’, but it also flowed to his mind, possessing him. How had he ever lived without this smell? That wonderful aroma that surrounded him. The smell of bread joined the ranks of his home alongside the waves of the Seine.
The sounds were his favorite, he had become accustomed to the sound of knitting or sewing joining the gentle picks he gave his guitar throughout the night. The nightly melodies he gave to her on the rooftop becoming a small tradition. She looked at peace in her work, it was a miracle to see her hands move so deftly. The dresses she designed blending into a perfect image every time. Her expression always one of pure joy after he nodded in approval. In fact, one night she squealed with delight after he hugged her for the shirt she made for his birthday.
He went to every contest and every catwalk. Her passion never deviated as she mumbled at every dress and wrote down notes. He never understood any of it. All of the clothing looked awkward to wear. And none of the styles made sense to him. But her fervent tone when she spoke about design left him silent. He didn’t need to know, she would mutter and tap her pencil to her lips, looking at him once or twice, and return back to her art. Forging her own way. He admired her so much. She was so… perfect. She deserved the world. And he would gladly give it to her.
He remembered it well. His 1st concert. His first big concert. Kitty Section’s 1st huge concert. She truly was magic, one word to Jagged and Kitty Section was booked playing in a huge venue. He had nerves of steel, or so he thought. But his hands shook like he had arthritis. He had never performed for her before. Not when they were… together, and definitely not like this. All of his songs had been little love songs to her. This… this was huge. It was beyond anything he had ever seen, which was only amplified when Jagged Stone himself gave him words of encouragement. He couldn’t mess this up, could he? Everybody tried to calm him, told him how good he was with the guitar, how well he had done in the past, and how he would conquer the day. None of it helped, not Jules, not Rose, not Ivan. He kept shaking. She would see him like this. He had been her rock, he never needed support. He couldn’t do that too her. She had so much going on. So much to strive for. He needed to be there for her, not the other way around. He could never-
She was there. When the curtain opened she was there. Staring at him, with those blue eyes and that bright smile. Those... beautiful blue eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes. Those eyes were staring back at him. The curtain had opened. He didn’t register his fingers finding their spots on strings, or when his fingers began picking the strings, or when the music started coming from the strings. He couldn’t hear, he couldn’t see the crowd. He only saw her. And her eyes. Blue.
Those perfect gems inside a face made out of Grecian marble. He stopped thinking, just finding his rhythm in her blue eyes. Again his heart soared. He hadn’t felt like this since they first met. So he kept playing, his heartstrings playing just like the ones positioned beneath his heart.
He played and played. The crowd cheered. He finally looked skyward. If he could thank whatever god there was he would do it a thousand times for the rest of his life. Everything was right. He felt so perfectly content at that moment. In that final song as he looked up at the stars. He counted his blessings. He blew kisses to the universe. He would get on his knees and praise god. It was all perfect. And as he hit the last note, he looked to her-
....
It stopped.
…
It all stopped.
…
Where had that Rose come from?
....
Where was she looking?
…
The noise became too loud. His eardrums fought against the cheers of not only the attendees but he cheers of his bandmates.
....
What was she saying?
....
She was reaching out. Who was she reaching for-
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He awoke in a cold sweat. The boat, now his boat for the last few years, rocked with the waves. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. He was in his bed. He had been asleep with- he reached his hand out to the other side of the bed- without….her. Again.
His head fell back to its pillow, sinking into the curve. And he fell asleep, the sound of silence...and the waves.
He awoke again later. This time he saw his room alight with the sun’s ray poking through his windows. He checked the clock on his bedside table. He was going to be late. Band Rehearsal was always on the boat at 9. Picking himself up, he threw on a shirt from...he tossed it back and picked up a blue T-shirt and his black jacket. He threw some toast out on a plate. In the fridge, his hand went for the juice but ended pulling out the Scotch. Like it had a few times before judging by the half-empty contents of the bottle. So he had toast with jam and scotch for breakfast. Well, mostly Scotch. Sue him.
He knew she was coming. He knew it. While her partner wasn’t. She was. He thought he was ready. It had been years, he would be fine. When he stepped onto the deck, his eyes locked onto her immediately. He found her sitting next to Nicholas, Rose and Julekas adopted son. As he walked over to her. He saw a smaller body in front of her. Not the black-haired young boy he and she had talked about so long ago, Louis his name was to be. No. The small child was slimmer.
She was a girl.
A girl with blonde locks.
Blonde locks and blue eyes.