The colors of his heart
He's shown 4 colors buried deep within him. 4 remotely different sides- each hidden with immaculate care, each bearing it's own unique story. Each was a piece of him, unreadable through his icy exterior. He used to reveal a new color, every anniversary spent together, as my reassurance of his ever-growing trust. I have memorized every one.
1.
Gold is strength, the essence of his hands.
Few people knew the true strength carried in those devilishly decisive hands.
They were the strength of a warrior, endowed with gun and sword, a fearless soul, vicious in the face of threat. They had always intrigued me; they were delicate and gentle, yet fierce as a tiger at war. I had seen immeasurable blood spilt before them, armies' slain and soldiers wither with a single touch. They are his burden, yet also, his might, every scar held it's own brutal memoir.
A memoir… of his will to protect.
He is Neji, surrounded by blood and steel and sending death's rain from the heavens. And I thought he was beautiful.
2.
White is truth, the essence of his lips.
Sakura has often told me, that his eyes are the windows to his soul. That with just one look you can see the pain; see the suffering, see nothing but the ghost of his past eternally haunting his unsettled spirit. She is wrong. The true depths of his heart are seen not through his eyes. They are felt through his lips.
For each separate curve tells a message of it's own.
When he is thinking, his lips form a rather dangerous, yet stoic curl, warning others to stay away. Intruders are shriveled to a cowering scrap and I have recognized the true venom behind his tongue.
New experiences are acknowledged by a delicate nibble, a silent plead for promised support. – A motion I can never reject.
Smiling shows not momentary bliss, but reassurance for an everlasting bond.
A simple kiss declares his love, his passion and vulnerability- a hidden understanding that only I have shared.
3.
Sapphire is freedom, the essence of his hair.
I can never forget the day I asked him why he never tied back his hair. It was athletics' day at school, and we were perched in the shade of the old Frangipani tree. He had merely replied with "a caged bird will always have its wings" and at the time, I failed to realize exactly what he meant. Now, I understand completely.
It is his symbol of freedom; an ability to soar, his faith, his motivation that no person could ever take away. It was but a piece of his broken reality, yet gave him the determination to fight, the sentiment of god with the strength of a warrior. And for that, I will always admire him.
These days, I loved running my fingers through those silky tresses, twisting and tugging at the knots, mesmerized by his waterfall of midnight.
4.
Lilac is beauty, the essence of his soul.
Anybody could say that he is attractive, but few people know of his true beauty. It is not skin deep, nor is it a mental attribute, but it is held within his spirit- a piece of being eternally irreplaceable. Even amidst the violence of battle, through bathes of blood with gun at hand, his eyes shine down in a silent apology. A solemn regret, the prayer of a fragile heart.
His soul remains sincere, no matter his surface.
For this trait is one, few people possess, and for that he is truly beautiful.
I have spent many years finding color in his hands, lips, hair and soul, and yet, there is still so much more left untold. For everyday, in the way his eyes light up when he's happy, the way he furrows his brows in confusion, the way he says my name or his lips tilt up at the corners when he laughs, I find another shade unseen. For this is but the beginning of the colors of his heart.
He is Neji, surrounded by blood and steel and sending death's rain from the heavens. And I thought he was beautiful.