black and white » styles au

two

Splatters of color ruined my image of the world.

When I was young, I never really thought that there was something wrong with me, I was normal. That's what I always thought, I am normal. The same as everybody else. But that changed when I turned six, when all the kids my age talk about different colors and how they're so pretty.

I just stood there and watched.

"Harry!" called my classmate, Niall.

"What is it Niall?"

Slightly annoyed by my use of his name, he threw the sand from his hands and scrunched up his face.

"I told you not to call me that!"

"But why should I call you Niallator, that's not your real name anyways."

He shrugged and rubbed his nose, "Because it's cooler."

And then he started blabbing in random reasons why the nickname sounded cooler, he dusted off his small hands. For a six year old he's pretty demanding. Niall was like a king in our preschool, he always got what he wanted. He wasn't a bully, no he wasn't -- although he's similar to one.

"Harry are you listening?"

"Yes yes, i'll call you niallator."

"That's not what I was saying!' and then a slap right on my left arm.

"What was that for?"

"I asked you if you brought your crayons today!"

Oh right, the crayons that I oh-so-preciously held in my hands in the mall. It wasn't my first time having a set, but there was something different, something inside of me cracked. That wasn't good.

"Yes I did."

"Good! Cause' I forgot mine! I'll borrow later okay?

I nodded, I don't really mind lending my things to Niall. He's a very careful boy when it comes to things. He always brings it back nice and clean.. Niall's that type of kid, someone who'll grow up to be someone special. And me? I don't know.

The bell had rang, and the teachers had asked us to come inside to wash our hands. As we did so, they made us wear small aprons around our bodies. Then we went back to our classroom where desks were neatly lined up and toys were all in the boxes.

"Today we're going to draw red circles, yellow triangles, blue rectangles; red hearts!" the teacher chimed, I always thought that she wasn't really that nice. She was trying so hard to make us like her.

"Hey Harry, can I borrow your yellow crayon?" Niall asked from beside me.

"Sure!" I quickly answered, then took out my box of crayons from my bag, I looked at it intently and then felt a nudge on my side.

"Harry?"

"Sorry! Here you go!" I said as I quickly took out a crayon from the box and handed it to Niall. I waited for his thanks but when I looked up, he looked back at me with a raised eyebrow.

"But Harry. This is green."

--

I had a really hard time distinguishing the colors in front of me, the teacher had asked me if I knew what colors were and I just shook my head. They called my mother to come, this couldn't be good, am I in trouble? I hope not. My mom was always busy with work and I can't be a burden to her.

"What happened?" she had asked to art teacher as soon as she arrived.

"Mrs. Styles, we should go talk inside."

They went inside one of the rooms and I can see them both talking seriously as I peeked inside the window glass. This isn't just an ordinary subject, something was wrong with me, I did something wrong.

Is this about the colors?

"Are you in trouble Harry?"

I turned around and looked at Niall, his face full of curiosity and concern, my eyes started to warm up as it began getting filled with tears. I shook my head but I couldn't help but feel restless

The door opened and out came my mother, her expression was unreadble, then she held one of my hands and pulled me away.

She didn't talk, neither did I.

--

"Harry. Can you get me my blue handkerchief." my mom asked.

I ran towards the drawer and saw a bunch of handkerchiefs nearly folded, where's blue? It's all the same right? I can't tell, so I took a random handkerchief from the pile and ran back to my mom. When I gave it to her, the smiling face she gave me suddenly turned into a pained and frustrated expression. It troubled my little mind so I just fidgeted my fingers as I looked down at my feet.

"Mom did I do something wrong?"

"Harry," she held the handkerchief up to her eyes as she started sobbing.

"This is the color red."