Isn't It Beautiful?

Karasu 071707

Summary: (one-shot) Tell me what colour your glasses were...

You once looked at me, with your eyes sparkling with mischief, and you whispered, "We're the future, eh?"

I could only nod and think of how perfect this whole situation was. We are the future, I chanted, We are the future. We are the future. We are the future!

... We were the future.

--

Tell me what your blue-prints are. For the perfect world, I mean, I said.

You sighed, took in the clean oxygen, and said, "I imagine a place where everyone gets along."

Well, I muttered, that's not a very vibrant opening statement.

"Oh, you wanted vibrant?"

...Yeah.

"You didn't say that." And you laughed. A very plain sound. Gutteral, you could say. "Well, then, there would be miles of ocean. Aqua-coloured. Not teal. And there would be dolphins--"

That's kind of gay, I snorted.

"You said you wanted vibrant. Anyway, there would be tons of sea life. All aqua."

What's with your love of aqua? And does it have to do with that crap-ass Barbie song? Because if it does, then you'd better get right the fuck out.

"No, no," you smiled. The sunshine reflected your own brightness. You were always so goddamn optimistic. "It's from my childhood. All I remember is aqua-- the colour. Everywhere we went, aqua. Mom, dad, Sissy... aqua."

Sounds like you puffed on a few bongs when you were a kid.

You chuckled and I was glad that I could bring that bright smile to your face, "It wasn't like that."

Oh? What was it like?

"It was as if every thing was perfect. Kind of like the saying about rose-tinted glasses. Only, mine were aqua." You paused, turned on your side, and scanned my face. "Tell me what colour your glasses were..."

I sighed, not wanting to discuss this.

"Please?"

But, damn if I can resist those oh-so cute eyes.

Fine, I gave in, my glasses... they were black.

"Black's not a colour."

Well, excuse me for pissing in your Cheerios. You were the one that asked.

"I really want to know. I'm not making fun of you." You did seem sincere.

Fine. Fine. You win. They were grey. Silver. Colour-less.

You seemed satisfied. You rolled over onto your back and we stared in silence up at the sky. "Tell me," you said, a small smile in the corner of your lips, "what your blue-prints are for the perfect world."

I sighed. My perfect world would be grey. With fish that swam in the sky and ice cream cones that sank in water. Cheese would be green, but not gross. And little children would stay little children. Adults wouldn't exist. And innocence would reign free. Always.

"He really fucked you up, didn't he?"

Yeah, I nodded slightly. Yeah.

You leaned over me, your hair brushing my cheeks and smiled. It was melancholy, but it worked for you. "Sympathy?"

For the devil, please, I whispered. You just nodded.

--

That was the night I fell asleep on your chest, listening to the sounds of your heartbeat. I was actually quite content in knowing that it would never beat for me.

That was also the last night I ever saw you.

You ran off to be some big-shot designer. I stayed in our little one-horse town to make the best of what I had.

I recieved approximately ninety-three letters from you in the months following your departure.

But nothing worked.

You fucked me up, too.

And I saw in grey for one last night.