Peter Parker & Tom Holland Imagines

colors pt.1 {p.p.}

Soulmate AU

My paint covered fingers grip onto the paintbrush as I finish the composition with one final stroke. "Wonderful job, Y/N," my art teacher says with a sigh of awe. I just smile sadly because I know what she's not saying, the thing that she's learned to stop talking about to me. The colors.

I'm told all my works are vibrant, daring blends of them that makes my work so 'breathtaking,' but there's no way for me to tell. Everyone is different. Some have timers, others brands or necklaces, but me—well, I'm the point one percent of the population that can't see color. Until I meet my soulmate supposedly. I don't really know if I believe it anymore.

So, I just pretend like I do and act like I understand what everyone else I've known sees. "Thank you, Miss Miller." I tell her as I clean up my brushes and station. My eyes keep going back to the now covered canvas. All patterned over in shades of grey to make up an image of my dad smiling from behind the counter of our famous deli. It's going to be his birthday gift, and I hope he'll love it just as much as the others.

The bell rings signaling the end of school, and I linger in the art room with its messy counters and paint splatters to avoid the inevitable squeals of excitement as someone else gets one step closer. One step closer to finding the one person made to compliment them in every way, the other half of their pair, and who they're 'destined' to spend their lives with.

Unfortunately, Miss Miller catches me today and rushes me out once my painting is wrapped up and ready to go. I begrudgingly sling my backpack on my shoulder and leave the safety and quiet of the classroom into the bustling hallway. My best friend quickly finds me and sighs when she notices my frown.

"Uh oh, I know that look. She did the roundabout compliment again, didn't she?" Her fingers sign, which is nothing more than an old habit from before she found her soulmate. She was nearly deaf and relied on hearing aids until she met her soulmate, and the first thing both of them heard clearly was the others voice. It's one of the cuter tales that makes me slightly bitter.

"Yep." I sigh and adjust the straps of my backpack as a girl from down the hallway squeals as she either finds her soulmate or gets a step closer. "Don't worry about me though, I'll be fine. I just have to get home early to help my mom set up and properly wrap this for my dad."

"Y/N Delmar, don't you brush it off like it's nothing." She snaps and glares at me. "I know it's hard, but it will happen for you too. We're still young. You have a lot of time before you should even think about giving up."

"I know," I tell her with a forced smile and prepare the usual lie, "and I haven't given up. I'm just waiting for whoever it is to actually show up. Now, I'm sorry, but I really have to run." She nods, clearly not happy with my answer but knowing from experience arguing goes no where.

I give her a quick wave and tightly hold onto the paper wrapped canvas as I weave my way through the crowds to my Dad's bodega. For some reason, I'm feeling nervous and impatient to be surrounded by the familiar deli.

Something just doesn't feel right as I walk. My fingers curl and crinkle the plain brown paper. There's a knot forming in my gut that only grows with every passing moment. I half expect it to fade as the infamous Delma's Grocery and Deli comes into view, but it doesn't.

There's a tug, and my heart lurches in my chest as someone snatches the painting from my hand and runs down the street with it. He probably thinks it's worth something, but unfortunately for him, its monetary value is next to nothing. The sentimental value is priceless though. "Hey," I scream as I start running after the thief.

He darts into an alley, and as foolish as it is, I follow him. Because all I can think about is the piece I worked so hard on these past weeks for my dad that is clutched in his greasy hands. "Give that back!" I shout at him as I tug on the back of his hood to stop him.