LOCATION: The masquerade ball
Gray was Sean’s favorite color--at least, that was what he told people. He’d always been one to strive for the middle of the road, not bring too much attention to himself, and there weren’t that many colors to choose from when a person was alone in this world. The woman at the tuxedo shop had assured him twice that his tie was black, but it looked slightly different than what he had come to expect from the shade, and it made him suspicious. Not that he had any way to prove it, of course. Living in a world with a limited spectrum made him seek out small nuances to get by, but his fear of the unknown made him paranoid. If he looked mismatched, then all of the color-viewers at the ball would know, and would look at him with those sympathetic, pitiful eyes. As it was, he didn’t like being the center of attention. He just hoped he wouldn’t stand out too much tonight.
So far, his wish had been granted. The ballroom of the Park Plaza Hotel was crowded with masked strangers, who were far too busy to notice him playing wallflower. They floated across the room in matched pairs, to elegant melodies produced by the string quartet in the corner. Not that it made any difference to him. His mother helped organize the event; he was merely here to show support. He swirled the gray liquid in his glass and took a sip. Funny, he’d always thought that whiskey tasted warmer than it looked: like honey and sunlight.
Sean paid the waltzing couples no mind, content to simply sip on his drink and watch. He was always content; easy to please, never asked for more than mediocrity. A man of routine and simplicity.
He was never one to seek out greatness, but for the first time, the mere sight of it took his breath away. Across the room, he locked eyes with most beautiful man he had ever seen in his life. Wisps of brightness surrounded him like an all-encompassing halo, an illuminating aura of what he could only assume to be--
He took a step toward the masked stranger, his feet acting as though enchanted by a higher power. No. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t ready for this. This had to be a hallucination. Someone must have spiked his drink. Colorists were scam artists; no one actually saw color. Hazy hues, more vibrant than he could have imagined, encircled the man no matter how many times he blinked. There was no rulebook for this, no strategy guide, no manual. He didn’t know what to do. Nothing had prepared him for this. His leg twitched, itching to take another step towards the dark-haired stranger.
Instead, he fought his instincts. He fled.
The hotel was a maze, with plenty of public rooms to get lost in. For an hour, he busied himself in a stroll, appeasing his anxiety-driven interest in the alpine-style architecture and framed fruit paintings on the walls. When he spotted the outdoor balcony on the second floor, he silently claimed it as his personal hideaway and headed outside.
Finally. Sean rested his head against the balcony door and closed his eyes. The cool air served as a soothing hug, and soon, he felt like he could breathe again. This was so much better than the party; it was the calmest he’d felt all night.
--Then he opened his eyes, and the feeling of tranquility escaped. It was him: the beautiful man with the will-o-wisps, standing by the railing.
“Oh.” The soft words left his lips with the evening breeze. “It’s you.”
