Periwinkle - Life in shades of blue (part 1)

My one and only

There's no dramatic declarations in the rain
It's not a love that finds its pleasure after pain
I couldn't train a bunch of doves to spell your name
It's a "don't know what they're missing" kind of love

Tiny love by Mika

TW (IMPORTANT): suicide, graphic descriptions of death

"You never talk about your mother."

I lift my eyes from the table to look at him. He's done eating and observes me through heavy eyelids, looking the most tired I've ever seen him. I gulp the bite before answering. "You just never asked."

"Thought it hurt, that's why." I don't miss the way he's using the less words possible to say what he wants. He holds his head with one hand, looking ready to say goodnight to the world for at least ten hours straight.

I nod, finishing the last bite of my bento and pushing it aside. "Nah, it's been too long to hurt... it's more like nostalgia. A bit of regret, too."

"Regret?" I don't look at him but I know exactly the face he's making right now. Confused and pouty. Cutely disapproving.

"I wasn't the easiest kid, you know." I laugh at myself. "I gave her hell, always looking for trouble and messing with servants."

I meet his eyes. Is he feeling sorry for me or is it just tiredness clouding his vision? "You were three..."

"I know." I mirror his position, watching him but at the same time letting my sight blur to remember my childhood better. "I used to think it was my fault." I focus on his earrings, he's wearing the blue ones I gave him. A smile breaks on my lips despite what I'm saying, but falls as soon as I realize he chose to wear them to die today. "I thought she was so fed up with me that she had to... end it."

His arm stretches across the table to join our hands together, and I shift my eyes to watch his thumb massage the skin of my palm. I can't let go of insidious thoughts of his attempted suicide. "It's only years after, that I realized it wasn't me. The family drove her crazy, not me. I'm sure she loved me."

"Of course, she did," the grip around my fingers tightens in reassurance.

Why am I so sure about it? My lips tug up in a lazy smile when I think about her. "Everyone was always trying to have me do something. Like, they taught me to see cursed energy as soon as I learned how to talk... and my manners and the way I carried myself have always been a huge issue." The clock behind him tells me it's well past midnight, but I don't feel like sleeping. Not when behind my eyes are creative ways to lose him. "But she was different. She was so proud of me for the most stupid things." I laugh at myself, remembering one scene in particular. "I gave her a purple mushroom as a gift once, and she told me I was the best observer in the world."

His laugh is soft and tired when it joins mine. "The bearer of the six eyes is the best observer in the world by definition, I'm afraid."

I shrug, my eyes wondering on him. The dimple in his chin, the stubble on his cheeks, the tiny scar on his forehead from when a kid hit him with a plastic dinosaur in kindergarten. That's right, I'm the best observer in the world. "How is it then that you still don't believe me when I say you're beautiful?"

The blush on his cheek is faint, but I can still see it. I take the hand that was holding mine between both of my palms and carefully watch the way our fingers intertwine. "I'm so glad I didn't go to Singapore, Suguru." I don't look at him, but I hear a loud gulp from across the table. "You're everything to me, but above all you're my best friend. My one and only."