Blue is the Warmest Color

Chapter 1

He sighs as the hot water hits his back. His head is bowed down, his longer dark hair forming a curtain in front of his face, though it didn't really matter because his eyes were closed. He wraps his arms around his torso and just stands there, letting the creaky old shower head spit hot water at him, burning his back. He didn't mind it though, because the pain reminded him that he was still here, that he was still alive.
He pries his eyes open, and they happen to land on his wrist, both faded and fresh raised lines covered his pale skin, and he runs a thumb along the surface, the sensation triggering a forgotten memory. His surroundings were bright and warm, but he could only see a few feet In front of him, which included the body walking beside him, and the large, warm hand wrapped around his, swinging slightly.
He looks up to try to make up the persons face, but with no luck. He could tell the general shape, but the colors were all blurred together. However, he could tell the person was smiling. Their linked hands swung in unison as they walked down a bright pathway. He felt almost...hopeful.
In a flash of light, the person was yanked from him, the delicious warmth gone too soon. He could hear yelling,...and crying..? And then the light turns to black, and with a roar, he is yanked back to the present, where the hot water had turned cold, and his arms were covered in goosebumps. He shivers and whipes at the tears streaming from his eyes, then turns to shut off the water. It takes a moment, the quality of the showerhead wasn't the greatest, but he steps out before it stops completely.
He goes through the normal routine of towel drying and getting dressed before making himself some tea. He makes his way over to his couch and sits down slowly, pulling his knees up to his chest and hiding his arms within them, sipping cautiously at his tea. By some miracle, his ratty old apartment got one of the best views in town; a large window was placed in the family room, the couch strategically placed in front of it. The view looked out over the entire city, and the mountains beyond. It had gotten dark in the time he had been in the shower, and he had a lot of observing to catch up on. He gazes out the window almost wistfully, thinking about nothing, watching everyone move about and converse with each other, living and being, and just enjoying what life had to offer them, while he just.... Existed.

At some point he dosed off, the teacup nestled in his arms, warming their natural coldness, as he's pulled into another abyss of endless nightmares. Eventually night gave way to morning, and his nightmares fade into the light streaming into the window stretching above him. He sighs, and gets up, wrapping the thin cardigan he had fallen asleep in around himself, and headed to his room, that which he didn't sleep in anyway. It still smelled like HIM.
He goes through the normal routine of getting ready for the dreadfully normal teenage life he never signed up for: college. It would have been so much faster if he could fly there....
The thought was accompanied by a flash of pain throughout his heart and a twinge between his shoulder blades. They were punishing him even now for thinking of his former life? He sighs again and shuts and locks the door of his old apartment building behind him and begins the long walk to campus. He didn't make it very far before running into someone.
He is always observing, always looking,  but somehow he didn't see the other kid until he was on the ground, in a puddle of his spilt tea. He had such bad balance in the first place, he didn't need any help with it, now look where that got him.
On his hands and knees on the sidewalk, he could feel blood seeping into his jeans from his ripped up knees,  mixing with his hot tea as he struggles to scramble upright. Papers rained down all around him, making for quite the look; him crouching down looking up innocently as papers floated down all around him.
"I- I...I'm so s-sorry!" He struggles to catch the raining papers, yanking them from the sky in a haste to get them before they could hit the ground and soak up the leftovers of that mornings rain.
He ignored the stinging wetness on his knees, brows furrowed in concentration as he gathered the fluttering remnants of trees. He succeeded in remarkable time, holding the stack in his shaking hands, his face growing red as he gets a look at his victim.