So, a while ago @agenderemrys posted this post about soulmate AUs where they canât see colour until they meet their soulmate.Â
Well hereâs the first bit of a few little stories I want to write set in a world just like that. Original characters and story, just a bit of fun, really.Â
Leo was ready to see colour. At 27 years old, he was done with listening to his patients go on and on about how beautiful life was now that they had found their soulmates. Until recently, he hadnât really minded. There hadnât been time in his career to be chasing after love, but nowadays⊠he was lonely. Midwifery had taken up so much of his life that Leoâd only recently started to wonder if heâd ever meet with someone heâd wanna raise a kid with.
So thatâs what had brought him here. To an art class. With clay. One of the nurses from the ward had recommended it to him, apparently it was where she had met her husband, and was just full of interesting single people. So Leo walked into the classroom and took a seat among the other students as the teacher took her place.
âWelcome!â The teacher began with a flourish, and launched into an explanation about clay and pottery and spirituality⊠and Leoâs attention wandered.
âHey..â The guy sat next to Leo had leaned closer to whisper. âFirst time? Iâm Oliver.â
Leo nodded, âLeo.â He didnât want to talk over the instructor, but other people were. It seemed like a pretty relaxed class. âYou been here before?â He faced the younger man, whoâs long, light-coloured hair was pulled into a loose ponytail.
âYeah, sheâs my wife.â Oliver gestured at the instructor. âSo Iâm here a lot of the time. I do colour consultancy for Monochromer potters.â
Ah. Right. So Oliver was one of those people. Who had fallen in love and discovered colour and now was all righteous about helping those who werenât fortunate enough to see the full rainbow. âCoolâŠâ he glanced around, was he falling into the desperate stereotype of the Monochromers? Coming to evening classes in one last attempt to find love and colour?
âWhat do you do?â Oliver handed Leo a lump of clay, and threw his own onto his wheel.
Clumsily doing the same, Leo replied. âIâm a midwife.â he said, trying to copy the other man as he started to work the clay. âYou?â
Oliver looked impressed for a moment, then answered. âInterior designer. I was a journalist when I was younger, but once I met Mel⊠well, itâs that age old story. Fall in love, find colour, be inspired⊠and I wanted to help people who couldnât see it yet.â
âSo you tell people they have bad taste even though they canât see it?â Honestly? Leo regretted that as soon as he said it. He hadnât meant to be judgemental and mean, but he was feeling⊠defensive. And sort of vulnerable. Apparently it was easy to tell when someone only saw in grey, and there was something about falling into the Monochromer stereotype that really sent chills down his spine. Because it meant more than just being colourblind. It meant loneliness.
Oliver laughed though, and shook his head. âNot at all. I get to know the people I work for, find out about them, and try to help them design something that fits their personality. So that if they do unexpectedly discover love some day, theyâre pleased with the house they come home to.â
âOh, right. So you like⊠hang out with people? But how do you know what colours theyâll like?â Leo had read extensively about the colour phenomenon when he was younger, and he knew that different people preferred different ones, but how could they know which before theyâd even experienced them?
âWell, we mostly use neutral colours, and ones that we believe reflect the person. Itâs difficult to explain, but colours have a sort of⊠feeling to them.â Oliver wiped a hand on his apron and reached into his pocket, handing Leo a business card. âI also teach Colour Classes to new Polychromers. You should come, when you need to.â
Leo turned the card over in his hand, getting a bit of clay on it⊠âWell⊠if I need to.â He stowed the card in his pocket. âNot looking likely at the moment.â
âYou never know. Love could be just around the corner.â Oliver winked at Leo, then started up his wheel again.
As if Iâm that lucky. Leo thought to himself, looking back at his clay. Nope. Still a misshapen lump. Nothing like a bowl. âHow dâyouâŠâ He gestured at Oliverâs wheel, where his lump had somehow grown sides and was starting to look smooth.
âYou need to use more water.â He wet his own hands. âAnd then you just⊠push it upwards, sort of.â Oliver demonstrated, and then looked up. âNow you try.â
Leo nodded, and dipped his fingers into the water. He wasnât entirely sure this was for him, but there was no point giving up now. After trying, and failing, to copy what Oliver was doing, he sighed in defeat.
âUse less pressure, you just want to encourage it to become a bowl.â Oliver crossed to sit opposite Leo, and guided his hands. âLike this.â
His hands were incredibly soft. Leo kept his eyes on the âbowlâ, as the other man gently showed him how to tease the clay into shape⊠Maybe it was because they were enacting some sort of romance movie cliche, or maybe it was the buzz that he had felt as soon as their hands had touched, but he had felt his cheeks go warm.
âSee? Thatâs better.â The sides of the bowl were starting to take shape, and Oliver was smiling widely at Leo as he glanced up from his work. âAre you alright?â
Leo realised he had frozen, his eyes fixed on Oliverâs. âOh⊠yeah⊠thanks.â He quickly looked away, but his heart was racing. There was something different about the way things looked. Oliverâs eyes⊠they were⊠well⊠different. Leo had no other way to describe it. They seemed to have more depth to them⊠they were a shade heâd never seen before.
As he avoided Oliverâs gaze, he started to notice other changes. Just a few. The bowl full of water was suddenly a a different hueâŠ
Wait. Was this colour? No⊠Leo looked at his hands, then at Oliver, then at the instructorâŠ
Oliverâs Wife.
So it couldnât be colour. It couldnât be. Not because of him anyway. Oliver already had his soulmate.
Besides⊠this was nothing like people had described. His sister had said her entire world had lit up⊠but this was just a few things. And Leo didnât even know that they were all that different. Maybe there was something wrong with him.
Suddenly feeling very anxious, Leo wiped his hands on a towel and stood up. âIâm uh⊠not feeling well.â he said, making his excuses to the instructor, but Oliver caught him up on his way out of the door.
âYouâll come back next week, right?â he said, resting a hand on Leoâs shoulder. Leo just nodded, trying to ignore the fluttering in his insides, and then scarpered out of the door.
As he made it outside, he stopped for a second to let his heart return to itâs normal speed. This⊠had to be a weird coincidence, right? Arrhythmia or something. He should go home, and lie down. He fished his car keys out of his pocket, and checked the sky for raincloudsâŠ
And found himself unable to tear his eyes away⊠The sky had never been so beautiful. Grey and white clouds were drifting in the distance, but most of it was⊠well⊠Leo didnât have a word for it. It had to be a colour. It had to. Heâd never seen anything quite like it in his entire life.
But why was everything else still the normal shades of grey?
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