Blue.
Cyan
He had always wondered why the sky is blue. He imagined that the sky had once watched something beautiful plummet to Earth and with each layer of its atmosphere ached for it. With every cloud and star in its being, cherished it. Alone, coiled around his indigo sheets, he would reach upward to the fogged window and wipe away the sky’s recycled tears, his hand warm with companionship. The waves always seemed to crash over his head as he swam through those sheets at night, his lungs void of oxygen, and his eyes flickering up at that navy blue sky.