Inspired by Ib.
Aah, he could see him again, the solitary man of the one who stands across from him.
He is indifference and death encased in the screaming winds of a blistering gray snowstorm that toss fine hair like silvery threads of moonlight in wild abandon and throwing a dark cloak into swirls and folds of black like a yawning abyss around him. The missing emptiness extends in a mask to cover half a face in its unknown depths for apathy has no identity. It is stark against the porcelain white of pale skin above it where eyes cool as winter gaze frostily beyond the plane of existence, one the gray of a tempest across stormy seas and the other a bone-chilling, arresting shade of deep, blood red, the only drop of color in the desolate landscape like a splatter of shuddered awakenings.
Pale, slender hands grip a single sword which cut across the gaping hollow hole in front of him at a sharp angle like a streak of lightning across thunderous skies, a flashing white of biting nonchalance in his hold. His stance was straight and precise, his body an unbending line against the arcs of the gale surrounding him.
He stands alone, always alone, in a silent world of blank white and gray and black, the shades melding and clashing all at once like the buffet of wind against snow but that was precisely what makes him so beautiful.
He was indifference but he is also defiance. His world may be colorless but he is far from the same.
Palette wants to touch him, the one who stands so easily in those blizzards. He wants to feel that smooth cold stinging his fingertips, to breathe the scent of winds and allow it to dry his throat, to hear a voice whisper around his ears as he feels him breathe and to know what it means to live in blankness.
What world can he create, what world does he see, this Nameless being in a canvas of nothing?
He throws flowers to him through his window when it turns dark outside and nobody comes, all of them a swollen carmine and crimson and cardinal. He didn't wish to taint that purity in anything else but the color that was given to Blank.
They sail in a drop of red through the air between them but they always scatter halfway, petals dissolving until nothing but a sighing thought is left at Blank's window.
Still he continues as though he were giving away his heart and in a way, he is; pieces of him that melt like spring snow before his feelings could take root on the other side.
Aah, they cannot reach.
He presses his hand against his window and sighs tears, staring at the eternity immortalized across him just a stone's throw away but the distance is more than he can ever imagine.
He wants to go there.
His soul aches even though he doesn't have one. The pain is still real enough that his own world melts and runs through the edges, oozing down in a disgusting mud of half-blended colors.
He cries and tosses the rose.
A hand catches it midair and he gasps.
Blank peers at him with unfathomable eyes, his right hand grips the unadorned black frame of his window and his body leans out, the bloom held delicately between long fingers.
How…?
Glinting gray and bright scarlet don't look away as he brings the rose to his nose, taking a deep breath and Palette feels as though his own breath is sucked away with it.
He lowers the rose to his lips and slowly melds back into his window.
They hold each other's gaze as Palette watches him go, watches the way Blank realigns into his unyielding lines and harsh angles but for the petals of red blossoming over his heart and the streaks running from a ruby eye.
Blank is indifference incarnate but he is also defiance and solitary strength, he who fights alone the clash between what is demanded of him outside and what he is inside.
It hurt him.
But Palette has given him a way to bleed over it, to validate that pain.
He isn't just indifference. He is human conflict.
Palette loves him.
A/N: To clear things up in case anyone's having trouble following, Palette is the name given to Iruka, who is a painting, by the artist who painted him. He hangs on the opposite wall of Kakashi, who has no name.