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The skies look down on him colourlessly.
Somewhere, his soulmate is waiting for him.
Keiji looks across and meets eyes with the boy standing on the other side with an expression mirroring his own on his face.
There’s a sea in his eyes and it crashes upon his shoreline.
There’s a faceless smile along with the brief eye contact that sets his world into motion. Find me again , it says.
There are colours, a multitude of them, swirling and blending and mixing together until they stop and his eyes adjust.
The skies are no longer colourless and there’s a new world before him.
Somewhere in that new world, his soulmate is still waiting for him.
Do you see it too? He wants to ask, and he does. The answer never comes.
Keiji is drawn to the colour red. It’s deep and bright and fiery.
Perhaps that’s why he’s drawn to it like a moth is drawn to a fire and it doesn’t know better; its only a moth and nothing more.
Red has always been violence and danger and anger until Osamu showed him that red can be softer, lighter.
Red can compose a soft sky.
He wonders why the sky makes everything look soft, even a colour symbolizing danger and fire. The sky lightens it, makes it something that’s achievable by anything else.
The sea is dark under the bright red sky and Osamu is standing right before him, bathed in the red glow of the sun and the clouds masking it somewhat.
He smiles a warm smile. A smile that ignites a fire somewhere in Keiji. He wants to say something but the moment is long gone like the red skies that have faded to black now.
He remembers the smile, akin to a warm fire. A fire unlike the red he’s known all his life. A warmer fire, a softer one.
A fire incapable of killing the moths attracted to it.
A fire that adds to the moths and metamorphoses them into crystal-winged butterflies. Their wings are red too, but softer and fragile. They flap gently, seemingly reshape and ripple lightly. They’re light but aren’t carried away by the gusts of wind that threaten to.
He holds out his hand and it falters, it takes a rest.
The butterfly was never there. It burns up and disappears in a brilliantly red fire that he can’t tear his gaze off of.
Red is lethal, red is unexpected and happens quickly.
Keiji keeps his eyes out for the colour red.
The butterfly is back, but differently.
He recognizes the eyes and a name registers in his mind.
Osamu Miya is his soulmate and it comes to him in a fiery tinted dream.
People used to tell Keiji that the colour green reminded them of him. He hadn’t understood, he couldn’t see the colours then. He understands them now.
Green is calm. It’s like the rain that falls from the skies above him, the rain that wets the grass painting vast expanses of meadows. The rain is lovely, and it reminds him of Osamu.
The rain is loud and quiet at the same time, and that’s what he loves about green.
Green is like the old tree he used to sit under when he was young, there was petrichor in the air and distant noises of people far away from him. It made him feel safe, tucked away in his own corner.
A butterfly would sit on the bark of the tree and look on. Keiji would watch its grass tinted wings tremble slightly and come to a rest. It looked at him from where it was and he would look back, charmed by its delicateness.
Green is the colour of the walls in his childhood home, of the plants in the garden.
Green is many things at once, and all of them have a familiarity to them. All of them have a safeness to them.
A blue sea is looking at him.
It taps at the sand around it and pushes over. It pulls back and crashes onto the shoreline again, like the wings of a butterfly there and gone in a heartbeat. The sea is something wonderful , he thinks.
He sees a faint reflection in the water’s edge.
“Osamu.”
There’s a nod and a flash of recognition, Keiji doesn’t turn away from the sea keeping his gaze.
There’s silence, broken only by the breaking yet intact waves. Do they ever break? The waves are rhythmic and never stop, they never tire.
He tilts his head a bit and his eyes meet Osamu’s.
There’s a sea in his eyes. It’s blue and grey and the waves cross each other. Inside those crossing waves, Keiji sees himself. A reflection.
Keiji is only observing the sea that is Osamu through a window. The sea is calm but there’s something violent about it. Something foreboding.
He’s looking at the sea again.
The sky is purple. Overcast with heavy clouds and tinged a shade of violet. The sun hides in the corner, the last flash as it dips past the horizon.
Osamu thinks of the stars.
They’re always there, and he can’t see them. There are so many of them and each is different but similar. Each of them shines bright and are only dimmed by the sun because they’re too far away and scattered.
The stars remind Osamu of Keiji.
He hadn’t noticed him until the sun had gone down. The sun wasn’t anything in particular, just a bright obstacle. It fades away with time and leaves the stars shimmering in its wake.
The sunset leaves more than stars in its wake, it leaves sparkling constellations and a pearly moon that was always there just never looked for.
The sunset brings darkness with it but the darkness shines a light on things never noticed before.
Out of all the colours, Osamu loves blue the most.
Blue is the colour of the sea in Keiji’s eyes and blue is the colour of the sea that he sees in him. The seas that were always there but never noticed and never waited for.
Blue is the colour of the skies that were once colourless and the skies that are in Keiji’s eyes. The skies that were monochrome but not dull and the skies that they coloured out for each other in vibrant colours.