3.1 | six ways to sunday ✓

way two ; blue and grey

His lover sighs, cheeks slowly turning a shade of apple-kissed autumn and melted sunshine. There's an irrational tightness in his chest that won't go away, that won't dissipate despite the claws digging in right over his heart, hot blood threatening to spill against innocent skin. "I don't want to do this right now."

He feels emotion tip over in a tragic waterfall past his eyes, tears reflecting his thoughts like colored pieces of shattered glass. "I just wish," he says to the person who hold his heart, "you could come to me instead of finding random people in the street."

"I don't want to hurt you."

The glass cuts deeper. "You're hurting me by not trusting me. Can't you see?"

With a devastated look towards the snowy ground underneath them, his lover closes his mouth in an unrestrained movement. "Every time you look at me, I don't want you to see blue and grey. I don't want you to feel pity."

He pulls his soulmate closer, remembering satin sheets and angelic wings and faded guitar strings. "Blue and grey is beautiful," he whispers. "To me, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Don't you dare walk away."