Larry fics

Lack Of Colour

Black.

White.

My life has been lived in those two colours. My world revolves around them. Maybe sometimes there's a tint of grey here and there, but it's mainly black. And white.

I've always been envious of the people who can actually see colours. I've especially been envious of my mum since she started seeing them a few months ago. Now she sees all of them and tries to explain to me the different colours. She would hang different pictures on the fridge, but they were just grey spots with a word like 'pink' or 'orange' underneath them. It's always been pointless to me.

My older sister, Gemma, and I used to understand each other. We would both sit on the almost-black grass in the backyard and talk about how stupid the concept of colours was. Then she met a boy named Ashton while he was on vacation from Australia, and we no longer had our backyard conversations. So I just sat there by myself out there and blinked at the light grey sun while Gemma and Ashton were off exploring Holmes Chapel. 

Living in a world engrossed in different shades and tones of the same colour has always made me sad. I want to know what people are talking about when they say I have such lovely green eyes or when they comment on how pretty a sunset is. All I see is different undertones of grey as the white sun leaves and turns my world pitch black.

I don't know why I can't see colours, or why Gemma suddenly can, or why my best mate, Niall, is starting to. But all I do know is that it makes me more and more depressed as the days go by.

Gemma told me that London is an amazing city full of colours. So that's why I sit alone in the middle of a grey and white park, staring at Big Ben in the distance. So far, London is just more shades of grey and an expensive flat that's as dull as my life.

"What're ya doing here all by yourself?"

I look up at my Irish friend as he sits beside me. "How did you find me?" I question, picking at some grey grass.

"You always sit outside when you finish—you know," he trails off awkwardly, pointing to his wrists.

I pull down the sleeves of my oversized jumper. "How did you know about that?"

His grey eyes turn sad. "I didn't," he replies solemnly. "Until now." Silence ensues as I hang my head shamefully. "Harry, you have to stop. Why are ye doin' it, anyway?"

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Niall, my life is as dull as the black and white I see. Not only do I have no colour in my life, but no emotion. I feel numb. I just want to feel something so I know I'm alive." I look up at the white sky. "Yet my blood is grey."

He pats my shoulder. "It'll be okay, buddy. We're going to find someone for you. Someone almost as good as Juliet."

I grin knowingly when he mentions his girlfriend. "How many colours can you see now?"

He smiles brightly. "I discovered green last week. Juliet's eyes are green. So are yours. They're nice."

"It sounds nice." I see the slight frown on Niall's lips when my sleeve pushes up a bit, so I distract him. "Tell me about Juliet. She sounds lovely."

"Oh, she is. The first colour I discovered was the brown of her hair. Then the pink of her lips. She was wearing a purple skirt one day, so I saw that." He lets out a puff of breath. "It's so cold out here. Why don't you go back to your flat? Maybe I could make you some tea?"

I shake my head. "No, thank you. I just want to try and imagine what a world in colour looks like. At this rate, I'll never truly find out."

"Then I'll find a nice girl for you. Maybe that'll do it."