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Blue. So much blue—in the sky, the ocean, and apparently in her. Her hair, her clothes...
"Is this why you insisted on this trip, pipsqueak? Because you're blue and this place is blue?"
Her eyes, the brown that mirror the sand beneath his feet, focus their gaze on him, and he remembers seeing a trend she once showed him. Picking stones and shells that resemble each other's eyes—he certainly will have a hard time finding one that's as mesmerizing as that shade of brown.
And adorned with his favorite expression, too.
"I figured if I can't get to Santorini at least I went somewhere that was inspired by it," She dismisses, holding her phone in a way Caleb was already familiar with. In just a few moments, she's bound to hand it over to him for a picture taking session.
He's watched enough reels to know some good poses if she needed help. It's not the first time he's studied beforehand to adjust to her changing lifestyle. Always ever malleable to her—
Such as when he'd learnt knitting to accompany her beginning to crochet. Both were fiber arts, and he loved having something in common with her. She'd crochet all his plushies in the off-chance that she hadn't won anything at the claw machines, and he'd knit her favorite accessories.
Caleb always saw the twinkle in her eyes whenever she spotted the crocheted Sunny Apples being the one pop of color in his modern bedroom. Meanwhile a smile never ceased to spread on his face when he'd take her out for a date and she'd use the scarves he knitted sometimes as an actual scarf and other times as styled tops.
It was why Caleb never let go of knitting as a hobby. He has to cling to it, he thinks to himself. It tethers him to her.
Just like how he practiced taking pictures on his own phone. As practice for when he inevitably becomes her photographer.
And, like clockwork, the phone is indeed handed to him after she polished the lens—a gesture he knew all to well—and handed to him, knowing he'd know how to open her phone anyway. And he does know. 040601, her birthday.
(And Caleb's password, too.)
As if rehearsed, she moves gracefully within the outskirts of the hotel they've been staying in, but Caleb clicks away at the shutter, knowing it's all for "candid" shots. She was into those these days, never looking directly at the camera or letting Caleb countdown from 3.
His favorite is when she whipped out the sunglasses—her favorite accessory, it seems. Sometimes, he wonders if she has a collection of sunglasses, since he always sees her with something new atop her hair.
She sometimes poses and stays like that, and Caleb adjusts himself to take photos in different angles without being told to do so. It's as if she trusted he knew what was a good point to a photo, and not that he was just so focused only on his girlfriend.
His girlfriend. Shit, he forgot that was a new development.
His girlfriend. The beauty roaming all over the beach being captured into hundreds and thousands of quick-shutter photography.
The blue-haired beauty that didn't overwhelm his senses when she'd flooded it with blue.
He collapses on the sand next to her, as if a puppy looking for praise. She scrolls through the photos he's taken, all while their bodies pressed together even with the sweltering heat of her home country.
Her fingers hover over the one picture that is Caleb's favorite out of everything, and she taps on the heart just above the photo.
It was her favorite, too.
Oh, that photo is definitely going on her profile.
Said photo was of her twirling in her sundress, leave and flora of the hotel draping down the roof and providing perfect scenery for his girl. She looked like she belonged there.
His reward comes in the form of sweet kisses to his lips. He loves them. He takes his own phone to record how sweet those kisses were, setting the phone down to capture from below.
And like any sane boyfriend if one has ever seen how pretty his girlfriend was, he'd post it on his own social media as well. Not as if every single post he places on his profile is one all about her.
Two profiles upload a ton of pictures that day. One had two photos, both tagged the second profile—which uploaded about ten photos. Only a couple of them are tagged with the first profile. Yet all photos, as stated in the caption, were rightfully and affectionately credited to be taken by the owner of the first profile.
It was sickeningly sweet.
And yet, if one were to check their close friends post, it is one and the same—linked through their accounts, they post one more picture. But that is only for their close friends' eyes only—literally only each other; a vast blue sea, below one single glider with two people. The glinder resembles a paper plane, another significant aspect of the post.
It is captioned with something both thought of together, while in content hushed whisper and kisses. The post is accompanied by their favorite song as of late.
Entitled 'blue', it described their love so realistically. And it was in a pace that was just right for both of them.
i'll leave my heart with your air, so let me fly with you.