Septiplier One Shots

Grey

Some people say they see different colors. They're wrong. Crazy. Freaks.

My parents told me they saw colors. These names like red, and blue, and green, and pink. I don't understand what the big mess is about them. Black. Grey. And white. The only colors I see.

Some people say they feel different than before. They're wrong. We all feel the same.

My sisters tell me they see colors too. Pink, and purple, and magenta, and navy blue. Truly pointless. There are no such colors. Black. Grey. And white. The only colors I see.

Three years ago, some guy bumped into me on the street. Instead of walking on in silence like everyone does, he stopped. I stopped. The whole world stopped.

His name was Mark Fischbach. My name is Sean McLoughlin.

When he looks at me, time stands still. I tell him colors are nonsense. He tells me he sees all different shades and kinds of colors. I tell him it's impossible.

He grabs my shoulder and pulls me toward him. He kisses me.

Some people say they see different colors in this place. They're right. Crazy. Freaks.

I see colors. I feel different. 

We see colors. We feel different.

So. Many. Colors.