olives

It was painful; liking the colour green. It was painful living with a profound pressure on his chest that would vehemently crush his heart whenever he caught sight of pretty olive-coloured eyes;
knives plunging deep in his skin and twisting themselves amidst his ribcage. It was painful, being near them, so close yet so far away - close enough to be able to brush careful fingers against their sweater but far enough that his mind scolded him for even thinking of doing that.
A cold hand that wasn't his squeezed his poor heart. Claws dug into pulsing flesh, crimson dribbling. Warm blood simmered in his vessels.

It was painful; liking the colour green and not being able to do anything about it.
Having to watch from a distance whilst they put their arm around a person's shoulders and leaned forward to whisper in unknowing ears.
Forced to see them hold hands with another, interlaced fingers and radiating warmth.
He was never able to look away.
Eyes glued in place, vision filled to the brim, thoughts a scattered disarray of ashes.