blue | lhs

01

Blue.

Soft.

Calm.

Forty distorted lines and three muffled shouts later, you break through the surface and gasp for breath, eyes staring up at the ceiling. It's white plaster, growing darker the harder you stare, wishing, in some morbid sense, for it to come crashing down toward you.

White is nothing like the purity and innocence it's portrayed as. White is devastating. White is dark. White is the murder of a flower yet to blossom—

"A minute and thirty-seven seconds. Huh."

Your eyes stray from the despicable ceiling to glance at the figure standing a few feet away, timer in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other.

"Minhyuk," you sigh, raking your hands through your hair to get rid of the tangles, "What are you doing?"

"Was wondering how long it would take you to realize that reality is still here no matter how long you stay beneath the surface." He twirls his champagne flute and shoots you a hard look. "You're not going to get anywhere by running from the situation, you know." Another twirl and then a sip. You watch indignantly as he sets his champagne down on a nearby table and reaches out a hand.

"I know. And I'm not running." You take his hand begrudgingly, heaving yourself up and out of the water onto the heated floor, nearly pulling your friend into the depths of the shadowy pool.

"Right. My bad. You're not running, but you're spending forever swimming in my pool whenever you can so that you can drown in other thoughts instead," Minhyuk rolls his eyes, handing you a towel. It's the one you left in his house two days ago, except it's nice and washed again, soft enough to melt into.

You take it with a small smile and begin to dry yourself off as Minhyuk settles into the lounge chair beside you. He's all dry and warm, and it takes two seconds for you to wring the water out of your hair above him.

"What the—hey!" He splutters, bringing his hands up as a means of defense while you laugh at his look of utter betrayal and vexation. Before you could move away, his hand shoots out to grab at your towel and pull it away from you. But you let him use it to dry himself off because, really, that one was your fault.

"Okay, playfulness aside," Minhyuk says, handing your towel back to you, "Talk to me about it. I'm your friend. I'm here for these kinds of things."

The two of you settle into silence as you sit back on the lounge chair beside his and return to staring at the dull ceiling overhead.

The white is taunting you. Mocking you until unwanted memories start to swarm in your head to remind you of the mistakes you've made. Out of your own naivety. Because love is a precarious thing, and something you won't fall back into again. You're not a fool to make the same mistake twice.

"Let me in, hm?" Minhyuk's voice pulls you out of your reverie. "It's worrisome for me to see you fall into this pit of despair. I can't just watch you sink, you know? That's not what a friend does."

You look at him out of the corner of your eye. He's laying back against his chair and staring at the same ceiling, hands tucked behind his head. Your eyes wander to your own hands, hidden in the towel at your lap. Hidden because you don't want to see. Not really. You don't need another reminder of why your last relationship failed. It's just a trap to get you stuck in another endless cycle of what ifs and whatnot. You want to forget already, folded safely into the bend of ignorance.

"Minhyuk?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever get curious?"

"Sure I do. About lots of things. I mean, what do we know?" Minhyuk relaxes into his chair and pulls his arms out from under his head to point them straight ahead. The dreaded thing you've been hiding from comes into full view then, and you dig your fingers into the towel to keep yourself grounded.

"But this. This?" Minhyuk's voice lowers to a whisper, "Not at all. Not curious."

You hold your breath as you stare at the strip of white. Clean. Untainted. Yet still as daunting as the growing darkness in your head.

"This white means nothing to me," Minhyuk continues, "At least not now. Because I'm trying to focus on prioritizing myself over the prospect of another. Love is not definitive. It molds and transforms and blooms and shatters and it is absolutely not absolute. Not until you're happy with yourself."

He pauses, bringing his wrists down to drag a finger across his mark. "But you can't run from it either. You have to let it happen on its own. It will happen eventually."

Slowly, carefully, you pull your own wrist out from underneath your towel. That same piercing white meets your disdainful gaze. It's the reason why your last relationship didn't work out. But it's also the very reason why you can't hold anyone back, no matter how much you loved them. Even if your previous lover found someone else to call home, you can't berate them. How could you keep two soulmates apart? Two people meant to be together? That would be unreasonable and selfish.

"Hey," Minhyuk places a gentle hand on your own white mark. "It's not something that can be changed. The only thing that can be changed is your attitude about it." Suddenly, he's grinning, and you raise an eyebrow at his abrupt change of expression.

He pats your colorless strip and the grin on his face stretches even wider. "I know something that could cheer you up. Come on." He stands up to pull you off your own chair and lead you back into his house. "The night's not over yet."

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I don't know why I'm so nervous posting this.

I hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will be longer :)