He doesn't remember anything. In his floating white and black shell, he doesn't remember how he got here. He doesn't know why there's a table for two, he doesn't know why he's always searching, forever roaming that beautiful void of color.
He hates it and loves it at the same time. Those vivid nebulas, shimmering galaxies, brilliant stars-they are close enough to touch, but at the same time he knows for certain he will die if he steps out of his safe, monochrome world.
So at a distance, he falls in love with the luminous space that stretches for miles and miles in front of his warped, stunning eyes, with his pale hands pressed against the cold glass.
It is a terrible fate, really, to be locked away from something that is unattainable and still seeing it every day, every night, every hour and minute of his timeless life.
With naive fingers, the aimless melodies pour forth from the piano and sprint off into the distance, odes of desire, regret, and sorrow, such an aching sorrow. At times, he wonders if an invisible hand wrenched his heart out.
He's not too sure how he knows such things.
Heart.
Love.
Hate.
Music.
There's a lingering, wistful feeling in his mind that somehow, he lost something precious.
The true tragedy is the fact that he doesn't even know what he lost. Or he doesn't remember, and he curses himself for being ten thousand types of an idiot to forget.
How could he?
He's not sure anymore whether time is relevant, out here in the unknown. The great white ship sails along silently in a sea of colorful lights, always alone, always wishing, hoping...
It isn't until she arrives that everything begins to change.
The sudden appearance of this strange, vibrant creature startles him so much that he merely beeps and stumbles backwards, terrified of the gleaming knife in her hands. Yet at the same time, a voice hisses in his ear.
We deserve it. Anything she does to us- we deserve. We are terrible.
He can only stare in numb horror as she walks closer, her brown eyes fixed intently on him. It is a strange, alien color; the color of a dwarf star...his own colorless eyes snap shut, waiting for the vibrant crimson (or perhaps he was also gray on the inside; he didn't know) to splash on the immaculate floor-
But instead, he flings his eyes open in shock and surprise as the strange creature drops her knife and rushes to embrace him, her frail arms wrapped around his slim waist.
And somehow, his face feels odd...like there's something missing, something that should have been moving, curving at that moment.
There's something weird with his heart as well; it jumped a bit, and now it's beating faster...
He doesn't really know what emotions are, but from the few, limited words in his mind, he somehow makes the connection between sadness, happiness, nostalgia.
So he pulls her closer, this strange, brightly colored alien. He likes? the warmth, her faint, sweet?-like scent, and wonders at the strange sensation that's tightening the skin on his face.
It was the same feeling he felt when he looked out that wide, wide window and watched the blazing comets streak by, against an otherworldly storm of dying stars and untouchable planets.
Beneath his drab clothing, his watery skin, he is dimly aware that something is moving and beating, something that is nowcolorful.