It’s the colour of Gavin’s eyes, and the colour of the mint he smells like.
It’s the colour of Michael’s shirt the first time he meets Gavin on Valentine’s Day of 2012, the time when Michael bumps into Gavin and accidentally spills his drink all over him. They bond over paper towels and Coca-Cola; an unlikely start to a beautiful friendship.
It’s the colour of the envy Michael feels when Gavin talks to Geoff, the way he gets too close for Michael’s comfort. It’s the colour of their sheets when they hold each other in bed that night, when Gavin reassures Michael that it means absolutely nothing. Michael believes him.
It’s the colour of the Cadillac they drive down to the shore, with the beach Michael refuses to touch but admits the view is nice, and also the colour of the walls of the hotel room. It’s the colour Michael lets blur in front of his vision that night, the first time he and Gavin sleep together.
It’s the colour of plates the night Gavin proposes.
It’s the colour of the bridesmaid dresses and the groomsmen cummerbunds, the colour of the handkerchief Gavin procures from his pocket to wipe Michael’s eyes. Michael returns the favour, and then hands it over his shoulder to Ray, and the three can’t help but laugh about it.
It’s the colour of the grass that grows around their headstone while they spend the rest of their eternity together, over sixty years after they meet.