A/N: Yay, another Elliot/Leo fanfic by meh! Cheer, mortals! -gets only crickets-
Well...I think I've been reading too much Francesca Lia Block lately (my FAVE author! 8D). Her writing style is rubbing off. Thus, this fanfic was born xD Did I try too hard? Ah, well. Flower language is used here again but they're all explained in the fic. Feel free to ask if you want to know anything c(: Just don't tell Elliot I keep stealing his interest, alright?
Please, enjoy it!
It would be awful if you had let all the black steal the colors you radiate, the colors I see when I'm around you, thinking of you, hearing your voice, or seeing your fingers dance across the ivory keys of your piano. Asphodels would reach to the dark sky in sorrow as soon as you let yourself lose those wonderful colors. My regrets would lie in sleep with you in the grave.
You told me that the glasses helped you from seeing those flashes of gold, the eyes of people who weren't there. You told me that you could see them. Back when I first met you, you said that the books helped you forget what you saw, because you were so engrossed in the black letters printed on those endless pages. You saw these things.
White roses: you made me promise not to tell anyone. White of the silence that you craved, silence that we both lived in. White of secrecy. You trusted only me. White of eternal love. White roses.
More than once, I wanted to forgo your fears painted dark blue like midnight and your wishes stained sunshine-yellow with our promise. Behind those long, long black bangs framing your pale face; through those glasses where you filtered out the Technicolor world, were eyes that knew only abysmal black sorrow. You didn't want to see anymore, and the only things that had entered those amethyst eyes was sadness.
I could see it when I looked at you. Red love-lies-bleeding staining your heart in hopelessness. I thought that when you became my valet, I could take that kind of feeling away from you. Yes, I was that self-centered. But I wasn't blind, you know. You're my closest friend, my brother, my companion that I could somehow always find myself back to. I began and ended with you. You couldn't hide those crimson tears from me.
But I saw them a few times. Those purple irises, those glittering pools of lavender.
Purple lilacs. Purple, the color only the richest could afford. Purple lilacs: the first real emotions of love. Your eyes, when you weren't hiding them... I could see those flowers blooming in them.
You felt the same, right?
"Elliot, I'll always see them," you whispered. You were sitting before the piano, your fingers slowly tinkering down the white keys, white roses, playing their white sounds of dreams, innocence. We both stared at the keys, ancient and out-of-tune when you played because they were coated in green lichen – solitude. Trapped in your thick forest of dark green. Solitude.
You thought you were so alone. With every time you believed that, the pink hydrangeas bloomed like sunset fireworks over your heart, suffocating it, gray smoke everywhere, and you couldn't find your way back to the colors I knew are buried inside you:
Technicolor waves of sea-blue when you laughed, deep love-worthy red when you smiled, silver starlight leaving your lips whenever you breathed peacefully next to me in the night, chasing away the shadows – blurring together like aurora borealis.
Slowly, you played out the song I wrote for you. Your tears as your fingers had the piano sing came in red petals, full of despair.
"I can make the bleeding stop," I declared firmly, wrapping my arms around you, smothering the pale pink and war red and all the evil colors that I hated blooming inside you. All the wrong colors. Terrible hues.
You took off your glasses in frustration, looking up at me. Petals were still falling from your eyes, your hands gripping mine, needing comfort. You don't need to say anything for me to know these things. White roses, remember? We've always communicated in the silence.
I brushed back your blackest-night hair, and smiled as I saw the purple lilacs shed their blooms onto your cheeks.
"It would probably kill you trying to make it stop," you whispered in a voice filled with broken glass, shattered mirrors everywhere. "You can't fix me, nor do I expect you to."
Your lies were tarnished with the pink of sweet briar: a wound to heal. Red and pink petals, small and cutting deeper than an oblivion-black razor, spreading in your blood, bleeding deadly, deadly flowers.
"Shut up, I do what I will," I growled to you. "Things like worth and sacrifice, I don't care about that."
"Then what do you see when you look at me?" you demanded, tossing my hands aside.
Red. Red daisies. Greatness and beauty that you won't see in yourself. Unless you're just so thick you can't see any of that. Red tulips. Declarations of love. Red tears I'm willing to lick up to swallow your sorrows. Red blood I'd do anything to preserve. Red. Love.
You were frozen when I took another step towards you, reaching out...
"Lilacs...," I murmured mindlessly, and I tilted my head to capture your pink, pink lips.
Get me lost in that purple gaze.
Don't let the colors fade away.
I need them. I need you to paint me all hues of your heart, your soul, your touch and eyes...
Please, tell me you see the amethyst lilacs, too.
Ending A/N: I swear this isn't as random as it was! It was my "color" theme idea for the contest OfWithHisHead is holding on deviantart. But since I thought it was too... -insert appropriate adjective here because I can't think of one!- So yeah...
Still, I really hoped you liked this. Please review/critique!