Black, or charcoal.
If there was one thing about him that Shiki simply could not wrap her mind around, it was the way he always wore the darkness of a void yet seemed to carry a sun within him. Black, always, even his socks, and the rims of his glasses. Ridiculous, she thinks time and time again. Can't you wear a different colour for a change? Doesn't your skin yearn for a layer of different meaning? Doesn't the light in you want to shine through a different sky?
But no, not a sun; not exactly. Sometimes she catches him staring out far, lost in thought, something sad hovering about his eyelashes - and so she settles on distant stars, awash in midnight blue. At times, they brighten, and at others, they fade. Of course their home would be an amalgam of all pigments. The heavy colour of life.
If he was the void, she thinks it might not be so bad to be lost in it. It was a funny thought.