Peoples who are reading my story~ Quick insight to how Blue might really be feeling behind what he shows us. I don't intend on expanding on this, it's a one-shot for a reason. R&R please, your reviews really do mean so much to me, and enjoy.
Blue
Beautiful things, so many beautiful things in the world, and he was just a blemish. A dark spot. A stain. Obnoxious, even when trying not to be. How could anyone want to be around him? Remembering back to past interactions, he always wondered how he had not gotten slapped in the face, how nobody had just walked away by now. He just could not understand it. People said that he had redeeming qualities that far outweighed his bad ones. He did not believe them. His faults shone through like the sun, to him, and he was certain that people were just too nice not to say anything.
A wave of loneliness swept over him as he sat alone, wallowing in his pit of self-loathing. There was one person who he could talk to, one person alone who could make him feel better. She was special, but not like that. Simply one of the best friends that he had.
The lonely introvert. That brought a bitter laugh to his throat, but he was full of little contradictions like that. Not that he let anyone see these; they were hidden behind a mask, eternally hidden. He could not control them, so he hid them. Nobody knew the full extent of how he felt, the inner turmoil was the one thing that he could not just accept and move on with. Yes, there were friends who would be willing to help, but he was stubborn like that. He was not going to burden them with his sorrows. That would be selfish. They had already gone through so much- things that make his problems seem like a particle of salt in a paper cut. They deserve to be happy; let his go on at his own pace, being happy for them, even if it killed him.
Why do this? Because he cared deeply about his friends. No matter what showed on the outside, he would gladly give his life for any of them. His life was just a drop in the ocean; theirs amounted to so much more.
And here he was, thinking of his own problems, sitting in a pit of depression when his life was so blessed. He had a home, a family, friends who cared about him. So many other people had so many bigger problems than he, so what makes his problems special? Nothing. Selfish. Sometimes death would be somewhat welcomed. Not suicide, never suicide, just welcomed.
And there Green is, so happy at the moment. He regained his composure- his mask- and asked her how she was. She, apparently happy to see him, replied that she was doing well. Then she asked him how he was.
Would he tell her? Would he explain how he really felt? What really went on inside of him? Would he drag her down with him, or just bear it and let her be happy?
"I'm good." he replied. A little white lie. In reality, he was feeling his namesake. He was feeling blue.