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I’d never thought about what my favorite color was before. It never seemed important. Not until I looked into a pair of ocean-blue eyes and realized that perhaps drowning was a beautiful thing. Not until I looked into a pair of fiery blue eyes and realized that perhaps burning was a painless thing. Not until I looked into a pair of sky-blue eyes and realized that perhaps falling was a peaceful thing. I’d never thought about what my favorite color was before because I hadn’t seen one that was worthy of the title. Until now, that is. “Blue,” I say, my voice low.
“And I’ll save your life again and again, aimlessly hoping you will allow me to stay in it.”
I feel fingers combing through my hair, weaving loose strands together as I whisper, “What are you doing?” He ducks his head close to mine, and I feel his lips brush against my hair when he murmurs, “Practicing.”
I count the faint freckles dusting her nose. Once. Twice. Twenty-eight.
“Pae, when I look at you… I’m devastated. I’m drowning. I’m dying to catch my breath.”