Paint Me A World Of Color

I pull on a pair of gray jeans, a dark gray t-shirt, and a couple of gray bracelets that Ana set out for me. It’s not that I can’t pick out my own clothes (technically) or that I only wear white, black, and various shades of gray. It’s not that everything is truly these colors. It’s just that when I pick out my clothes, they end up jumbled in an awkward mix of color, blacks and blues and oranges and purples and browns… all in one incredible mess of an outfit. It may look fine in black and white, but in the world of color… let’s just say it doesn’t quite work out. I wear clothes of color, at least, Ana says so. It’s just that, in a world like mine, if you could see it through my eyes, you would understand it all. In my world, there’s no beautiful cyan, no mystical peach. Through my eyes, its all black, and white, and the shades in between. My eyes, my world, my life… is not a life of color. Oh what it would be like, to live in a world like yours. In a world, a world of color.


10. "The Talk"

 I open the door to a beautifully landscaped yard, full of flowering trees and bushes. Tiny lights are strung across the area, creating a soft glow in the enclosed place. Chance is sitting on a dark metal bench, the light reflecting slightly off of it. His face looks flawless, lit up by the soft glow, each small dimple or curve of the shape of his face is deepened by the contrast of the light and shadows. His pupils are dilated, the small circle of sapphire blue shining bright. His dark eyelashes look more prominent and his eyes look glassed over from the shimmering reflections of light. His tan complexion is totally flawless, free of bruises, acne, everything. His hair is slightly ruffled from the day, but it looks perfect all the same. His rosy lips are pulled up into an adorable lopsided smirk, his perfectly straight and white teeth showing slightly. He’s slouching back on the left side of the bench, his feet crossed at his ankles. His sweatshirt is slung over the top of the bench, and I can see the outline of muscles through the thin fabric of his grey t-shirt. His left arm lies across the back of the bench, his biceps prominent.

"Hey," I begin to say, but my breath catches in my throat and I start to cough.

"Are you ok?" he asks, his eyes wide.

"Yeah," I clear my throat, "Sorry." I make my way over to the bench, sitting a few inches away from him, very much aware that his arm rests on the bench behind me. I have to concentrate on my breathing, and my heart races at an unnatural speed. "So, I have something to tell you. It's going to sound crazy, and you might never want to speak to me again, and I wouldn't blame you, because I'm going to seem like some kind of psychopath, but please promise me you'll listen, please?"

He looks at me quizically. He hesitates, but then says "Ok, I promise."

"Ok," I sigh. "Where to begin?"

                                                     *               *               *

"So, to put it simply, you're colorblind, but you can see me, and only me, in color?" He asks, confusion written on his face.

"Yeah," I answer.

He studies my face again, probably for the millionth time since I met him here. My breath catches in my throat, as it has every time he looks at me, and my heart rate speeds up to some pace that can't be entirely healthy. 

"Wow," he says. "It's a lot to take in. I'm sure you want to know right now if I believe you, but here's the thing. I want to trust you. Please believe me when I say that I want everything that you just said to be true, and I want to be able to know that you were right. But the facts, the science isn't on my side, or rather, your side. I'm not saying that I'm deciding either way, but... I need some time. To let it sink in, and think about it all. Okay?" His voice softens toward the end, and I can see in his eyes that he's struggling with an internal battle.

"Okay," I say gently, "okay."


A/N: SOOOO sorry for the late update!!! Thanks for reading :) :) :)

~Xx Jenna xX

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