When society tells you that you are a colour, when you consider yourself another one and when being yourself hurts; at those times, sleeping is hard.
*Continuation of "Blue & Gray", but it can be read as one-shot.
Disclaimer: BTS's Kim Taehyung and...
At first they were slaps and scolding only, in an isolated sort. I would almost say like in any home with strict parents. With increasing frequency, they also rose in despair, in their insistence that I was wrong, that I was a boy who should not play with girlish things.
That mine should be blue, blue, blue.
It didn't matter how much I liked pink, the dolls, or the dresses.
Blue.
Like the marks that started to colour my skin.
It also didn't matter how hard I tried to be the perfect son my parents wanted, it never seemed to be enough; I were never smart enough, or good enough.
So the blows didn't hurt. What destroyed me was indifference.
I don't know if the biiiiiiiiiiiiiip was an accident, either. Deep down, I suspect my parents sold me.
They wanted to get rid of me, after all.
His biiiiiiiiiip son.
That flawed child.
Ha, as if I were a doll! Like it was my fault!
As if I were... their punishment.
But I were just a kid who learned to see everything in blue glasses. That learned to live with cold, with hunger, with pain.
It's amazing what we are able to get used to.
-V, don't forget that my parents are waiting for us tomorrow for dinner.
I know, mom called me this afternoon. Doesn't anyone trust my memory?
-She's just looking forward to seeing you, hyung. You know how she is, she loves you very much.
...
-We all love you so much, hyung.
It's funny, too, how much it takes us to get used to something we've given up on. I was sure that, like everyone else, you would be better off without me. But you proved me wrong.
I love being wrong, if it means that I can feel your kisses, your warmth, your hugs.
If only I could hear you sing, again...
Maybe one day I can tell you everything, when you are awake. When I stop seeing blue when I look in the mirror. When the purple dyes are stronger, more durable.
When I can talk about the biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip without breaking into a thousand pieces.
For now, I feel satisfied just watching you sleep, next to me.
When I close my eyes, your scent transports me to that time where your mother told me tales of princesses, those that I had forbidden at home, and I dreamed of angels who comforted the wounds that I could not reveal.
-Good night, Tae.
Good night, Kookie.
Now I dream of angels every day, because I live with one.
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