𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒔, t. kuroo ✓

seven.

SEVENTH RECORDING
0:00 ⊙━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 3:00

don't listen to this until you can see the sky, okay? and not just through your window. i need you to see the sky without any obstructions.

situated atop of his roof, he watches as the sky slowly blossoms into a plethora of color, his eyes widening as the previously blue sky dissolved into beautiful reds, oranges, and purples. it was intoxicating. he couldn't tear his eyes away, nearly forgetting to play the message you'd left for him.

how do you show a person color?

he suddenly remembers a conversation from a while back with you on this matter, homework scattered and forgotten as you laid on the floor with your hands intertwined and held above you. your head had moved to rest on his shoulder, voices soft as to not wake up your family. he had stared at your hand in his, overcome with the sensation of settled peace.

maybe you'd sit them down on a cool patch of grass and tell them the gentle yet prickly sensation against your skin is the color green. you'd press your palms the dewy surface of the leaves and wonder of the ground beneath your bare feet, the grass tickling the pads of your toes. you'd press your arms around the wide berth of a tree's trunk and breathe in the deep, earthly smell of nature around you.

he'd struggled to name that feeling for so long. he, tetsurō kuroo. he, who knew exactly what to say to make anything and anyone fall into his favor, had no idea what call the growing warmth he felt in his chest whenever he saw you. he didn't know what to make of the content smile that always grew upon his lips when you did something stupid or cute (or both, in his opinion).

or maybe you'd sit them in from of a bonfire and tell them it's not only red, but beautifuly dancing flames of orange and yellow, too, sometimes. the heat that teases your cheeks amplifies with every description.. but you're told you cannot touch it. what? why can't i touch it? you ask. you'll get burnt. burns are not good. burns are an ugly color, they say. ugly colors of bright red that sting and fade into prudish shades of a dulled greyish burgundy. you find it fascinating, but keep that to yourself.

he adored the sound of your voice. was it adoration, then? no.. it didn't quite fit. adoration couldn't describe the way his heart stuttered when you remembered the minor details about him no one cared to even consider. adoration couldn't cover the stupid grin that always appeared when you came to his games, the sudden wave of energy that filled him up when seeing you in the stands, cheering not only for his team, but for him as well. his team would tease him about the girl in the crowd wearing a red jersey that was all too sizes big on her, but he couldn't bring himself to care. not when your bright smile illuminated the whole gym each time they win.

perhaps you'd take them to the roof of a building when the timing is just right and watch the sun set over the horizon. you'd tell them about how the giant orb that hung in the sky that was a brilliant shade of yellow during the day turned into a warm honey glazed golden color as it slowly disappeared from view. the sun wasn't even the best, you'd add. the sky would turn into a plethora of oranges, browns, violets, blues—so much color all at once, it would ignite a feeling so deep it'd produce tears. the best part was that it happened every night. the sunrises were even more breathtaking.

he looks up once you mention the vast ocean of color once more, still lost in his thoughts. if it wasn't adoration, then what was it? he needed to know, to sort his feelings out. he owed you that much, now that you've given him a chance of sorts.

i guess it's fascinating to me how some people can see variations of color that others can't. i don't know where i'm going with this, honestly. i look at the sky at night and keep thinking about that conversation we had, one of the few times you decided to humor me and ask me what i thought on color blindness. it was so random, and i didn't even know how to respond— what you wanted, right? i remember not speaking for a while before saying i had to leave. i didn't give you an answer for leaving. this is my answer.

i went home and wrote what you just heard. how would you show someone who's colorblind color? you'd have realistic and note that only about 1% or so of the population is completely colorblind on a black to grey to white scale, more prominent in men, if i'm not mistaken, and that the correct term for the other type is called color deficiency. i'm not going to get into the science-y explanation, haha.

this is going to sound so cheesy— i can already see you cringing. relax yourself. i.. you.. you. the moment you appeared in my life was like being shown color for the first time. exhilarating, chaotic, and all kinds of emotional, but i was grateful for all of it. i was.. still am, actually, grateful for you.

i hope there comes a time where we can be friends, at least.

i.. love you. a lot. sleep well.

the message ends and he closes his eyes, the silence lingering heavily around him before he bolts upwards, eyes widening. he pressed a hand to his chest, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt as he wills his heart to calm down.

home. a word so simple, yet enough to cover everything he felt when it came to you. a four letter word that held your smiles, laughs, cries, tears, inquiries, and soft words of encouragement. home was your arms, your kisses, your hugs, your unconscious pats and hand squeezes. you were his everything, you were his home.

and he threw it all way.

SEVENTH RECORDING
3:00  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⊙ 3:00