paintmepastelblue

[x] I’m afraid that if I let go of your hand... you’ll fly away, you’ll shatter "I can see it now." Parched lips search for words. "See what?" "I see the end." Her words turn emptier and emptier, sentences short like winter days. Gold light casts drippings of honey over her softened, porcelain features. The air is cold and unforgiving, and the moment is crucial; Iwaizumi shivers. She is at peace, but Iwaizumi is not. She is able to let go, but he wants to hold on. He wants to hope, while she wants to fall. How did they come to this? How could he love her with such a conflicted heart? Simple: she is all he has ever kno

[X] if the answer really is you... Fifteen minutes late. It was one of those rare, chilly summer nights, and Oikawa Tooru forgot to bring a sweater. That frustrated him because the bus arrived fifteen minutes late that cold, starless night. Those were things Oikawa could have cared less about before. Since everyone left for college, pointless, subconscious thoughts seemed to be the best kind of company nowadays. He’s also noticed how long it’s taken for him to find the right answer to the question inked neatly on his wrist. The little, pretty things in life also became more prevalent in the things Oikawa started to notice. The

you're showered by the glow of the m o o n l i g h t It was a bit of a lonely night for Sugawara, for he tended to find solace in solitary nights not unlike those. His skin was cool: the heat of the day died down as the moon made it way across the night sky littered with stray clouds. His back, tired from long days and night, slouched against an old, wooden bench, beaten up by the hands of the wind and rain. Cascading over his silver head were rivulets delicately embellished with tiny jade-coloured leaves. There wasn't anything he could have wanted to change about the garden he sat in every so often. It was beautiful. And it just so happened

It’s already been three long semesters since you started college. And although you originally sought to earn a degree in the area of Math, in truth, Math hasn’t always been your thing. Despite the tuition fees and the instability with the field of astronomy, you decide that it’s the only thing you actually want to do at this point.   As time progresses in your first morning class, you start to recognize a familiar face in one of your lectures. Or rather, a familiar shade of vibrant orange. “Shouyou?” It’s just before everyone packs up to leave that you call on him. When he turns around, his smiling eyes a

A/N: Start this a couple seconds before you begin to read. I'd recommend that you listen to the song in its entirety. Oikawa was being left behind. And he didn’t like it one bit. He was a natural leader, respected for his wits, and his promising skill. It had always been that way even since his novice days. But the enemy that he’d been fighting against for so long, it had just vanished. The battle field became barren. It was like he wasn’t worthy enough to fight it anymore. How could the leader be left behind by the army? Ah, it was because the war was over. Oikawa lost. The end. But he didn’t want it to end. He sti

He didn’t mean to be the villain. In fact, he was hoping the role of the hero, or even the role of the underdog, was not yet taken. But the Fates who cast the roles paid his plead no heed. He was a good man, with a big, tender heart, but was friends with evil actions that were inappropriately matched to his character. “B-Bertl? I-I can’t see. Are you there? ‘Cos I’m getting really scared.” (Name)’s voice resonated softly, angelic as always, a soothing melody that melted like caramel once it reached Bertholdt’s ears. Her desperate plea was muffled by the door separating the trio and the frightene

I've never understood, what  l  o  v  e  was really like... Haru's never really grasped the concept of being in love. In all honesty, he found it to be quite a bothersome topic that people constantly fretted over, while he thought it to be a thing of definitive sides. You either are in love or you aren't. But one night, he sits beside you, and sees something different. How nice it was to see the setting sun lighting the edges of the mountain's peaks in a soft peach halo. Or how the ambiance of the ocean's restlessness released a calming sensation that he felt on the forefront of his mind. But mostly, he notices how comforting it is to have

[X] Iwaizumi Hajime was incredibly obstinate, but Fate was even more so. He never wanted to fall in love with a nice and proper girl like her. But he did. He didn’t deserve a nice and proper girl like her. Nor did he think that she deserved to be with Oikawa, who didn’t give her the attention and care that she wholeheartedly craved and needed.  As much as Iwaizumi cherished his and Oikawa’s friendship, it irked him at how his counterpart treated (Name), how careless he was with their relationship.   Every now and then, he liked to indulge in her presence, drinking in every detail of how her hair framed her rosy face, or ho

[X] What they had was a strong, magnificent flame… Why was it so hard to force the words out? Why couldn’t he just say it? Not another soul was in the hallway, it was just him and (Name). Aoba Johsai’s glorified setter was frozen, his dry lips halfway parted open. He felt so scared, he might have just slightly pissed himself. Every small movement she made seemed alluring and just plain distracting. When she blinked those sparkling, (e/c) orbs at him, little did she know that it could put the chocolate-haired boy in a trance. She was so innocent, so intelligent, so pretty, a celestial goddess in his eyes.   “I-I, uh-

He felt intoxicated. The musky miasma of smoke from the blasts of gunfire completely overwhelmed every single system in his aching body. His head rapidly swirled with pain, throbbing relentlessly against his temples, refusing to let him make sense of his current position. The ebony locks of his hair were plastered against his forehead, and a sticky fluid composed of his sweat and blood trailed down his pallid cheeks. He felt like a weight had been dropped unsparingly onto his chest as his breaths came out shallow and ragged. The boy’s indigo hues flitted around, wearily drinking in the chaotic scenes of violence. From his dim, seclude