⋅ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ : soulmate au : fluff
⋅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : chihoon x reader
⋅ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 1.2k
Achromatopsia.
The term used to describe a complete lack of colour, the hard synonym for a much simpler word, colourblindness. In the medical world, they call it a syndrome, sometimes even a symptom that might exhibit up to five different conditions. With one out of 30,000 newborns being born with achromatopsia, you and your soulmate belong somewhere in that prevalence.
As far as you've been told, there are two sorts of achromatopsia. In the first sort, some still see limited colours. In the second sort, only shades can be perceived. You and your soulmate belong to the latter category, in which only black, white, and grey shades can be perceived. No colours, only shades.
It might sound like you know a lot about achromatopsia and a lot about your soulmate. Though none of the knowledge in your mind has been provided by a professional or formal literature. You took it upon yourself to make use of the internet and search for meanings: the meaning behind your monochrome vision, the meaning behind the unknown person your soul longed for. Despite the endless websites telling you somewhat similar things, you didn't live up to them. Connect the dots from achromatopsia and soulmates and you come to your own conclusion: your syndrome would be healed once you look into the eyes of your soulmate.
Despite knowing of the existence of your soulmate and knowing he's the only person that can cure your achromatopsia, you distance yourself from it. You don't actively look for him like other people would, you don't give in to the ache in your heart. Rather than looking for your soulmate: you wander around the streets and wonder whether other people are achromats like you. You might not be able to see it in their eyes, but it doesn't stop you from observing them.
Why don't you look for your soulmate? Because you fear the moment you will see colours for the first time and realise that the world is much better with simple greyish shades. It's a white lie you've told yourself so many times that you stopped seeing it as a lie. Hidden from yourself is the fear that you will never find your soulmate if you actively look for him.
Today isn't any different from the days where you observe strangers on the street. Even though you had a day off and wanted nothing but to spend it inside your apartment with a good unfinished series, you are obligated to go outside. Due to the empty fridge in your kitchen, you find yourself lurking over the streets, headed to the nearest convenience store.
You wouldn't mind skipping breakfast, but even that doesn't mean that you don't have to leave your house. You need to have three meals a day and your fridge doesn't even hold enough ingredients for one, so it's obvious that you have to drag yourself to the store first thing in the morning. That's how you end up on the street as early as nine in the morning: too early for crowded streets, too late to avoid other humans.
Your eyes scan over the outside world, staring ahead but still seeing the many aspects of the city: the black shaded street that you walk on and the grey buildings that line up ahead of you. A coffee shop to your left and a flower shop on your right: you don't see the beige interior of the coffee shop, neither do you see the pink coloured flower bouquets. Everything is grey, devoid of colours.
Halted feet now stand in the middle of the street as an old couple greets you good morning. If you assign a colour to their friendly smiles: it would be yellow like the rays of the morning sun. A yellow you never experienced but as you greet one another, you feel the warmth of the sun on your shoulders. "Have a nice day," you say politely as an end to the conversation.
Your halted feet stop their alignment when you take a step forward to continue your path towards the store, though your eyes don't move along just yet, they are still following the old and probably soulmate-labelled couple.
Interference. Your shoulder bumps against someone else's body after merely one more step forward. Your head is fast to turn but the rest of your body is still in shock because of the collision. Before either of you can fall, you grasp for one another's arm even though there had been no risk of falling.
"I'm so sorry!" You apologise quickly, standing up straight after all physical contact is broken between the two of you. You're now eyeball to eyeball with the stranger, though both of you are looking down at the street, the alignment of your feet.
The stranger coughs awkwardly, mumbling a response. "It's fine, I should have looked where I was going. Are you okay?" He asks you. His voice is deep and yet, it's unlike all of the other deep voices you heard before. Due to answer-demanding question, you raise your head to look at the stranger.
Eyeball to eyeball. You gaze into his dark brown eyes with your own, the pigmented colour hues apart from the black you usually see. The skin around his eyes isn't any type of grey: it's one of the many skin tones that exist in the pigmented world.
"I…," you don't come further than that with your words: not because you suddenly aren't so okay anymore, but because you are speechless. Your eyes start to dart over every possible inch of his face: the soft colour of his lips, his light blonde hair that nicely contrasts with the bright red beret he's wearing on top of that hair.
Without looking for his eyes, yours meet his. "I can see colours," he announces to you, his eyes now fixated onto yours even though he wishes to discover every colour that you have to offer him. "Me too," you say in response. The endless colour palette is inked onto him: almost like what you expect a rainbow to be, but with even more colours.
"My name is Chihoon."
His name alone makes you smile even though you're no longer able to assign a colour to him, he's the entire palette of colours that is imprinted on your head in grey shades. He's the blue of the grey sky you saw, the gold of the grey necklace around your neck. He's each of the ten million colours that exist.
"I'm y/n," you tell him. Your name makes a smile coat his plump lips, his heart no longer coloured in a dark grey shade, but in the red that could resemble a love, he never experienced before. You look like the most beautiful painted canvas, inked in colours he's yet to discover.
Chihoon reaches out his hand to yours, the touch as soft as the beige sand of the beach. Your fingers intertwine with his and gently clasp over the top of his hand just like his fingers curl between your knuckles. The monochrome one-person portrait in your apartment would transition into the beautifully coloured picture of you and your soulmate.
"Colour will always change your perspective, just as love will always change your life around."
💌 send me a member (nct/tbz/too) + an au/genre and I'll write you a drabble or some soft hours