Cursive (Original BL)

Blue

Blue was his favourite colour.

Blue was simple, blue was stable.

There was something comforting about knowing that if he picked any random person walking by on those streets, there was a ninety-nine percent chance they both saw and perceived the same thing. And that wasn't something he could say the same for most other colours.

Blue was objective.

A couple deep breaths filled his lungs with air that didn't feel fresh, averting his eyes from the sky to glance at his phone and check the time. He sighed, pursed his lips, then looked up again.

There weren't many things that he liked about America. People were loud and careless, it was impossible to get anywhere by walking, and the weather absolutely sucked; he couldn't get used to the high temperatures no matter how long it had been since they moved there. But at least the sky was rarely clouded, at least he was able to fully appreciate it most of the time.

He liked the sky. The ocean hid unknown things and too many secrets, and the ground could easily give in and break, but the sky was always there. And also, it was blue. That was always a plus.

Blue was comforting.

Another deep breath, trying to block out all the noise from the people walking by. Conversations he wasn't supposed to hear but were too loud to ignore, chattering and laughing, simple things that shouldn't be annoying but were getting on his nerves. All other students moved through the parking lot like it was second nature for them at that point, like they knew they belonged there and why.

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

Unfamiliar faces surrounding him didn't get any less nerve-wrecking, no matter how many times he had been in that same situation, sitting on that same bench. Waiting without a set finish line didn't either, nor did the inconsistencies that were so consistent they could be considered a routine.

At least the sky was the same, though; the blue shades remained the same. He knew what to expect when looking up, the small changes were still something he could somewhat anticipate.

Blue was reliable.

"Aidan!"

The call of his name and the familiar sound of the honk of a car caught his attention, getting him to stand up and grab his bag in a simple and quick movement. He looked around for just a couple seconds before he saw the car waiting for him, then he headed in that direction and quietly opened the door, getting on the passenger seat.

The car began to move the second he got in, he left his bag on the floor, then took a few seconds to fasten his seatbelt. And once he was done, he looked at the man by his side.

"Hey," his dad said before he could, glancing at him as well. "How did it go?"

"Fine," he mumbled, his eyes searching for something before suppressing the need to roll his eyes. "Seatbelt," he pointed out. His father hummed in response, quickly fastening the belt as well. Aidan focused on the road, the same path he saw every day, yet he still hadn't been able to memorise.

Cities in America were too fucking big.

He checked his phone, saw a few messages from his classmates' group chats, then put it away again without bothering to answer. Then, he checked it again. People were talking, no one was saying anything. Nothing was said in any of his older chats.

The car was too quiet.

And quiet cars in the middle of the highway were all too familiar, and the memories of long conversations after prolonged silence were all too easy to bring back.