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Yukimiya didn’t have a favourite colour.
As a child, he’d always liked pretty things, flowers, butterflies, the way the sun shone through stained glass in spring. Little delicate things of all shades and tones. Whatever caught his eye, really.
Now that he’s grown older, he often finds himself happy that he can see at all. As if one day, when the lights turn off, they will never turn on again. No matter how many times he’s had the tale of his death read out to him, the fear of suddenness, of shock and surprise, of losing everything in one night, remains curled up in his deepest consciousness. Ready to haunt him when he’s alone.
He's never quite cared to have a favourite colour. Too caught up in the allure of burning out, dying like a star. A death so bright and glorious it can be seen from light years away. To Yukimiya, his future is minutes, seconds, the mere moments until he explodes. Yukimiya hasn’t allowed himself to be in a long time. Being takes time he doesn’t have. Existing outside of football, outside of his dream, isn’t an option for him anymore.
He needs to fight.
He needs to survive.
Isagi had a favourite colour.
Of course he did. Isagi was everything Kenyuu never was, all Kenyuu could never be. Yukimiya knew Isagi’s favourite colour. He knew it like he knew the way Isagi breathed, the way he moved, the way light reflected off his eyes when it was positioned just right. Yukimiya knew everything about Isagi as if it’d save him.
From what? Kenyuu was never quite sure.
It was light blue. Isagi’s favourite colour is light blue.
Ironic as Isagi reminded Yukimiya of green. Bright, awful, all-encompassing green. The kind of green people worship, that pale, yellowish green that danced through the sky in the auroras. Beautiful, powerful green that reminded Yukimiya of how pathetically small he is.
For at the end of the day, this man – this beauty – will keep fighting on even when Yukimiya has fallen. Keep fighting because the passion in his heart runs to depths Yukimiya could only hope to touch. For he was chosen, and Yukimiya was not.
Horrifyingly enough, Kenyuu almost didn’t mind that.
He’d follow that blinding light until it killed him.
What a pleasure it would be to die under those eyes.
Those terrible, terrible eyes that bored a hole into his skull as if Isagi knew things about him Yukimiya didn’t know about himself. His guiding light, his everything, his star.
Perhaps Yukimiya does have a favourite colour. Blue. Painful, harsh, intelligent blue.