Chapter 1
Twenty-two years, and the first colour I see is blue.
The amazing fact doesn't register at first; I'm staring at the stranger sitting on the opposite aisle of the train by the window and I'm thinking,wow, he's got the most beautiful blue eyes.
They're so blue they make my heart skip a beat in my chest and my lips part with wonder, my breathing slightly accelerating.
I think a little cheesily, that those blue eyes might actually be the most beautiful colour I've ever seen.
I know I'm blushing as I keep glancing his way, my heart beat going haywire underneath my ribcage.God, how can someone's eyes be so blue?
I wonder in amazement, staring at him and feeling starstruck.
He's currently laughing and playing with a huge Labrador clothed in a sweater.
With the angles and seats in front of the dog, I can't really see what's written on the sweater it's wearing.
Wait.
Oh my God, his eyes areblue.
His eyes are freakingblue.
I can see incolour.
I glance back at him in shock.
The world around him is still black and white, and his bright blue eyes look so sharp in contrast to the dull grey-toned surroundings.
They seem to pop out of the scene like a weird anomaly.
The longer I keep staring, more colour bleeds into the picture before me.
First it's his hair – from a dull dark grey turns into a healthy dark brown.
His face becomes paler, then richer, until colour bleeds into his skin in a lovely shade of tanned brown, his cheeks flushed, and lips full and rose pink.
The train stops and I'm too shocked to move.
I watch, frozen in my seat as the guy quickly gets up, cooing at his dog and whispering something.
The dog lets out one single bark, then they both make their way out of the train, the dog in front, the beautiful stranger taking all the colour right with him.
Without thinking, I'm on my feet and I'm trying to run after him.
I barely make it half-way down the aisle when the next throng of people are shoving their way in because of the rush hour.
The doors close, and I feel a disappointment so crushing, I lose the strength in my legs and collapse into a seat.
I look out the windows, trying to find his mop of slightly curly dark hair but he's gone.
And for a brief second, the once white and black world has a tint of blue.
*
I can't stop thinking about it.
I can't stop thinking abouthim.
Colour fades for most people at the age of six, at the latest seven.
It's more than a little frightening seeing the colour slowly disappear from the world as you grow up, until all that's left is black and white.
People only resume seeing colour again when they meet their soulmates.
According to fate, people normally meet their first soulmates very early in life, some as young as sixteen, eighteen being the popular age.
I would see couples talking about how lovely the colours were in Autumn, the reds and browns and golds, or how green and yellow it was in summer, and they made everyone else who didn't have a soulmate yet feel like they weremissingsomething.
I absolutelyhatedthat.
Ever since I was a young boy, I had never wanted a soulmate – I'd always questioned why things had to be difficult, why people couldn't just love who they love, regardless of the colour in which they saw they world – in rainbows or palettes of grey.
I didn't mind the dull grey world – in fact, I kind of got used to it.
That is, until now.
Now I can't get the image of startling blue eyes out of my head.
*
I'm in a rush – my sister's been waiting for me in the reception for a while now – and I'm not really looking where I'm going, which is why I run right into this guy at the top of the stairs and nearly send him tumbling backwards and careening down to his death.
I've never reacted so fast in my life, grabbing his hips and pulling him flush against my body to prevent his fall.
"Whoa," he breathes as he slams into my chest, his hands reaching up to clutch at my shirt.
I don't recognize him because of the hipster glasses currently balanced on his nose.
However, when I glance at his face, I very nearly drop him again when familiar startling blue eyes meet with mine.
The blue actually hurts my eyes because of the stark contrast with the monochrome surroundings, and I have to blink repeatedly to get used to the glare.
"Sorry, I can't really see where I'm going," he says, and then he bursts out laughing, chortling so hard I step back and stare at him in alarm, wondering what's so funny.
My eyes grow wide when he actually laughs himself out of breath, and fumbles in his hoodie pockets for an inhaler, puffing into it desperately.
When he can breathe again, he asks, glancing in my direction, "Are you still there?"
I feel a little amused as I frown in confusion at the question.
"Uh, yeah?"
He laughs again and just like on the train, I see colour bleed into his face, turning his skin that beautiful golden brown, his cheeks flushed pink.
My heart is about to beat out of my chest.
He waves a hand in front of his face.
"I'm kind of blind.
And I mean, blindblind, not just colour blind like everyone else.
That was – uh, the joke," he laughs again, "Oh God, I love myself.
I'm sorry, am I keeping you?"
"Kind of, yeah," I respond without thought, staring at him stupidly.
"Ah, right sorry," he says but he has a tiny smile on his face that's making my stomach do cartwheels.
"I got a little lost in thought while climbing up the stairs, so I'm not sure what floor I'm on, could you maybe –?"
"Ah, right," I reply, glancing around, "Sixth floor."
"Thanks, dude!
See you around then!
Or not!" he smiles, giving me a tiny wave before continuing on his way up the stairs, walking with such confidence I forget for a second that he's blind.
"I can feel you staring!" he calls from the next flight of stairs with a soft chuckle, "don't worry, I know this building like the back of my palm!
I'll be fine!
No more slamming into rock hard chests, I promise." He leans over the railing, looks vaguely in my direction andwinks.
I feel my face burn as hot as the sun.
When he disappears, the colour fades with him, and I feel thelongingdown to my bones.