Under a Shade of Blue | Namjin

3- Confessions in Blue

"Come on, let me see!"

"No!"

"Please!"

"No!"

A now regular conversation between the both of us.

We talked until they kicked us out after his successful set at the coffee shop that night. His friends had to leave early so it ended up being just me and him. For hours he spoke about his passion for music and how he couldn't picture himself doing anything else for the rest of his life.

I listened attentively, wishing I had a dream that motivated every fiber of my being as well.

Fascinated by his features as I watched him speak, I imagined a pencil with a mind of its own sketching his form right before my eyes.

It would start with the quasi-roundness of his face— soft due to his doughy cheeks, yet simultaneously sharp because of his jutted forward jaw— not forgetting to add his ears that stuck out on top.

Beneath his eyebrows it would outline long, almost rectangular eyes emphasized by his monolid; then continue to his slightly upturned buttoned nose and big lips, finishing with the deep dimples that appeared whenever he smiled.

My fingers itched to draw him, a compelling force that hadn't taken over me in a really long time, and it's what I did every day we spent together.

"I'm selfless enough to let you draw me whenever you want and you can't even let me see it!" He'd say.

"It's not good enough for you to see it yet!" I'd answer.

Because it wasn't. The map of his traits was so imprinted in my subconscious I could follow it in my sleep. But his blue. I could never get his blue.

I'd look around at all the blues in nature and still end up with nothing.

The sky's blue was too light. It was too clean and pure, void of anything substantial, oblivious to anything that mattered. It lacked depth.

Namjoon's blue was wise. It carried itself with the knowledge and integrity of a soul that has lived through centuries and bore the weight of its stories.

The ocean's blue was too dark. It took itself too seriously, relished and revered in its power, drowning anyone who trusted it enough to take a dive in deep.

Namjoon's blue was understanding. It was soft and sincere. A conscious so caring it kept you afloat until you reached stability.

His blue was a blue of the heavens. A blue of spirituality. A piety spirit descended to free your mind and balance your body, keeping what you mourn at rest and exuding what you love to express.

"You know, if you won't let me see them the least you could do is let me take you out on a date."

I studied him. Speechless. An overconfident simper plastered on his face.

"No."

He was taken aback. "What?"

I stood right in front of him. "I'll be the one to take you on a date."

And I did.

Whenever we went on walks he'd always get distracted by the buzz of a bee, entranced by the colonies of ants walking in a straight line, or even stop to feed the birds. Hence, I took him where I knew he'd be happiest: a butterfly farm.

He seemed so obviously at home in the leafy tropical environment. Curious like a child eager to learn about caterpillars, pupaes, eggs and plants; innocent as he ran around looking for beetles, praying mantis' and giant millipedes; captivated by the tarantulas and the scorpions, excitedly grabbing every snail and every crab in sight.

We let the numerous free flying butterflies guide us along the paths until we got to where I wanted us to be: where the blue butterflies were.

"Have you ever noticed how rare blue is in nature?" I asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"How many animals do you know are blue? Not even blue whales are really blue," I said.

He stopped to think for a moment. "Yeah, I guess I'd never really thought of that..."

We sat on an empty bench where the butterflies could flutter all above us.

"I read not too long ago there's only one type of butterfly that makes a true blue pigment." I pointed at the creature in question. "We only see all the other animals in the world as blue because their microscopic structure evolved over time to bend light in a way that only blue wavelengths pass through."

"Wow." An olive wing butterfly conveniently landed on his hand. "These must be pretty special, huh?"

He smiled endearingly at the black butterfly with the blue pigmented stripe and I couldn't keep my eyes off him, my heart swelling as it grew fonder of him. "Yeah, they are..."

I took a deep breath. "Namjoon, there's something I gotta tell you."

"What's up?" He brought his attention back to me, the butterfly flying away.

"I have synesthesia." I began. "It means that when one of my senses is stimulated it triggers an automatic and involuntary experience in another."

He didn't say anything, just let me go on.

"In my case, people's voices have smells, and words have tastes, and foods have sounds, and music quite literally touches me." I paused for a bit. "I can also see people's auras. It's like a disc of colored light that surrounds their entire frame. Yours is blue."

He angled himself to face me, seemingly more interested.

"But it's not just any blue." I went on. "It's a blue like no other on earth. I've never seen any other blue like it before. I've drawn you countless of times and I've never been able to reproduce it."

His eyes were so mesmerizing. "You're special and rare to me, Joonie."

His lips so full and inviting. "You're my blue."

Not a second passed that his lips were on mine, yearning and impatient. The taste of his strawberry lip balm making choirs sing.