Author's Note: Hey all, thanks for reading. This is a little story that happened purely by accident. I wrote this chapter and it led to many more.

So I will be adding them up here as I revise them. All reviews and critique are greatly appreciated, and I hope you all enjoy your read.

That's all. Enjoy!

-Laserif

Chapter 1: The Color Blue

It was late now. He lay on his tummy on the carpet, alone, his birthday hat slowly sliding off his head and his birthday cracker sitting sadly between his lips. He listlessly watched the plate before him, a lone cupcake with blue frosting sitting upon it, the candle topping it flickering gently as it had for the past hour now. He watched, his eyes half closed in loneliness, thinking of every sad thought he'd ever experienced in his life.

In truth, this was his fault. After all, he hadn't really sent out invitations. Well, not true. He'd sent out one. Just one. That was it. It was the only person he was really interested in seeing.

But that person wouldn't be coming tonight.

His only gift, complete with a card, sat beside him unopened. He didn't know what it was. He didn't know if he was ready to know what it was. All he knew was she wasn't going to pop out of it, and that was the only gift he really wanted right now.

He lay his head in his arms, breathing in the dusty scent of the carpet. He was alone now. He wanted her to come, but she wasn't going to. He had to accept it. She would if she could, but she just couldn't come.

He thought of last week when he gave her that invitation, when he had asked her if she thought cupcakes or cake would be better. She had said cupcakes, with blue frosting, of course, because she had just never seen really nice blue frosting on a cupcake. He had made them himself, a dozen of them, just in case she wanted seconds, thirds, sixths…

Eleven cupcakes sat on the kitchen table, all of them growing stale, all of them topped with candles long since gone. This last one, this twelfth and final cupcake, was the only one with a surviving flame. He had rescued it from the table only to stare at it on the floor. Why? Maybe he just wanted to remember how wonderfully blue this beautiful little cupcake was. Maybe he wanted to remember because it was her favorite shade, and he'd worked so hard to ensure it was perfect…

He wanted to snuff out that candle, but he couldn't. He kept thinking it burned for a reason, that putting it out would be some unspeakable disgrace, so he simply kept lying on the floor, watching the tiny little flame dance to the sad tune within his head.

He reached for the card. He'd already read it a few times, but he couldn't really stop. To him, right now, it was unfathomable. He simply read it again, hoping this time the words would ease in a bit more, that he could believe them and feel a bit better, a bit more at peace, but every reading left him a bit worse off, a bit emptier, and he found himself simply trying to search for answers to questions that simply had none.

My dearest Totakeke,

I've been trying to make the best of things here. I know your birthday is soon, that you're expecting me, but I don't think I can make it. They won't let me leave, and I understand why. As I write this, they're prepping me to go in, and I can't really say what's going to happen after. I'm praying this isn't the last card I write.

My dear, wonderful friend, I want you to remember how much you've meant to me. I want you to try to be strong, to think only of the good things. Remember only the happy times. Cherish the happy memories. Take to heart how much of a good impact you've had on my life, how much I've loved your songs, your poems, and every aspect of your mind.

I asked mom to drop this off in time for your birthday. I'll ask if it's okay for me to eat one of the cupcakes. If not, well, that's okay, I still want to see one. I'm sure you made them so beautiful. I wanted to make them for you, but…

Well…

I hope your birthday is a happy one. I hope I can come to see you soon. I hope I can laugh and smile with you again. I want to hear what you can pull off with this gift I got for you. I spent my entire life savings on it (mom helped, too). I really hope you learn how to play it. I think it suits your voice.

I love you. Never stop singing.

-With Love from Lyric

He still hadn't opened it. He didn't know what it was, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to. He kept staring at the cupcake, wondering if it was coincidentally the prettiest blue aside from the last lit. He would have given her this one, he was sure of it. She would have been so happy, would have licked off all the frosting first and then daintily eaten the little yellow cake left behind. She always ate the frosting first, licked the top clean…

He should open her gift. She was excited about it, right? He should open it.

He set the card aside and pushed himself onto his knees, then looked sadly to the gift. It was wrapped in blue, the same shade as his birthday treats, with a little white bow. He opened it gently, wanting to keep that paper, Why? He didn't know. He just did.

Inside lay a brand new country guitar. It was beautiful, shining with a delicate light he couldn't really describe. There was a blue guitar pick taped to it and a small note.

"When you learn to play this, please write a song for me. I'll be listening."

He sat in silence for a moment, observing his new instrument. Slowly, he grabbed the pick and gently began to strum, his ears perking at every note. He played slowly, delicately, taking in every sound it made, not really knowing what he was doing but finding a small joy in making a little noise.

He strummed all night, long after the candle flickered out, long after his birthday was over, long after his cupcakes had gone stale in the night.

He would play a song for her, even if she couldn't hear it right now.

He'd find a way.