Color My Skies

Troye has never seen color and has never really wanted to. One day, he's walking down the street and he locks eyes with a boy who has light hair. Before he knows it, the boy's hair is lilac. [Cover by Beautifully Music Nerd]

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1. Dark/Light

Darkness. That's all it feels like. It's terrible not knowing your soulmate. 

All you can see are black, white and all the shades of gray in between.

When I was younger, I was optimistic, I said my favorite color was blue. I didn't know what it looked like and I still don't but I was hopeful.

Now I know I'll never find my soulmate. 

I pick up my gray bag and walk outside into the gray world. I run my hand through my gray hair. My dad says it's brown and that my eyes are the most amazing shade of blue. 

All I see when I look in the mirror (or in the reflection of store windows in this case) is a light gray. My eyes aren't blue, they're light gray. My hair isn't brown, it's a medium gray. Peoples' cheeks don't turn red when they blush (like all the authors who have found their soulmates say) they turn darker.

I walk down the busy sidewalk. People don't apologize when they bump into you.

I bump into a shorter man with light gray hair. Or maybe it's purple.

Wait. Purple? I can't see colors. I almost laugh.

And then everything else is colorful, too.

The man turns around.

"Wait!" he says. 

I blush (are my cheeks turning red?) and pull him to the side so that we don't hold anyone up.

"Your eyes," he says, "What color is that? It's beautiful. Is it hazel? Brown?"

I laugh. "Blue and um, are you my soulmate?"

"I guess so." His cheeks get red (I guess they do) and his voice sounds squeaky.

I smile and look at the sky.

"It's so beautiful."

"It's the same as your eyes."

I lean up against the (colorful) building.

This is all so real. 

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Tyler Oakley." He runs his hand through his hair.

"I'm Troye, um, Troye Sivan."

He nods. 

"So you're my soulmate, Troye Sivan."

"Yeah." 

He smiles and takes my hand.

"Let's go somewhere."

"Where?"

"Somewhere colorful."

I nod and get a firmer grip on his hand. I pull him along with me to a building I had always avoided.

The art museum.

//AN: This sucks//

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