Nico's favorite color is blue, ironically. But not the color blue like the vast, boundless, ocean. Nor the bright, and infinite, shifting shades of the sky. But the deep, purest blue of a sapphire. A gem deep beneath the earth, a weight in his hand, and something he could hold. Because unlike the ocean and the skies. He could never reach the clouds—no matter how high he tried to reach, nor could he hold the shape of the water, it simply slipped right through his fingers. So he would admire the ocean from afar, and mourn the gap between him and the sky. But his heart would always call for the looks that glanced in his direction, the deepest, and purest of blue eyes that caught his eye, and he would never look away. This blue would never change, yet it glowed underneath the sun, and gleamed in the dark. A blue he could never ever take his eyes off—if he dared, one so familiar. For the ocean would never return his tears, and the sky would never stay grounded. So curse him for always looking toward that shade of blue, not because it held power, nor did it soar with authority, but because it. always. looked. back.
