i am a slut for soulmate aus
i love making angst out of everything
warnings: suggestions of self-harm; mentions of blood
ALBERT SAW COLOR THE DAY HE MET RACE. Seeing color meant that you’d met your soulmate. He kept it secret, though. He knew that Race would only ever see him as a friend, and Albert didn’t want to face any rejection or ridicule.
Before Albert saw color, he’d been living each day of his sixteen years waiting to find someone that would change his black-and-white view of the world into something vibrantly beautiful.
And then, on the first day of school, he’d met Race. Albert’s eyes found colors for the first time and it was hard to conceal it. He’d claimed sickness and managed to play the role convincingly enough to be sent home.
Albert actually became sick when he woke up the next morning. He didn’t go to school that day. Or the day after that. He was gone for four days in total before he managed to deal with his new discovery.
He spent his evenings learning about colors. He wanted to know their names, the different shades, what everything looked like.
He discovered that he had freckles. That his hair was red. That his eyes were a mesmerizing blue.
But all of this to be secret, too, though. If his mother and father found out, they’d be intrigued and ask questions.
Albert didn’t know what he’d do if they found out that his soulmate was another boy.
Everything in Albert’s life was kept secret now. He couldn’t explain to his parents why he wanted the differently-colored striped shirt instead of the flat-colored one. He couldn’t say that he loved seeing the sky as the sun was setting.
Every single thing was secret. A lie.
Albert managed to get over his fear of seeing Race. As the two grew closer as friends, Albert couldn’t help but feel closer to Race in a completely different way. Everything within Albert wanted to deny that he really was falling for his best friend. But the way life worked, the way color worked, it was undeniable.
It was the summer after high school graduation when Race said something that made Albert think.
“We’re going to college together, right?” Race asked.
Albert didn’t know what to say. He’d just naturally assumed that he and Race would fall away from each other like some friends did, and that he’d never hear from Race again after that.
Race wanted to stay around him though. Surely that’s what Race meant when he’d asked that.
So Albert just answered, “Yeah, we are. I’ll make sure of it.”
It was the only thing that they spoke about for weeks afterwards. They eventually decided on a college together. They even talked about getting an apartment together.
All Albert felt was bittersweet happiness. If they were talking about this under a different label, it would be different.
Every time Race said We should move in together, Albert’s mind shot to the insane possibility that maybe, just maybe, Race did like him that other type of way.
Each thought was shot down when Race would suggest that they just use the college’s dorms instead.
The college years were full of agony for Albert. He was balancing precariously on the edge of a blade. So many thoughts and options were there for him.
He could just stay away from Race as much as possible and hope that his vision would fade back to black-and-white. He could date other people in hopes that one person would make his vision more vibrant than before.
The most appealing thing was claiming that he’d gotten to see colors just then. If he said that, it could easily be justified as his soulmate being anyone he’d passed by on the sidewalks.
He wouldn’t have to deny himself art classes, something he longed to take. He would be able to get back watching the sun rising and setting. So many things he could access without questions.
But Albert never said that. He didn’t date. He became closer than ever to Race. All of it in hopes that maybe Race would suddenly see him in another light - quite literally.
Albert was thirty-some years old when he ran into Race again. It was the first time he’d seen him in person since college graduation. Their only other communication had been through texts and calls for years.
There were tears. So many tears and laughs.
Albert hated to see that his vision, which had dulled in his long time away from Race, became intensely bright and colorful again, more than ever so before.
And the urge to just blurt it out to Race was such a strong temptation.
He couldn’t, though. Race had a girlfriend now. He’d had so many other girlfriends in college. One in high school.
Race would never like him that way.
It crushed Albert. He longed to just tear away his vision, rip out his heart, deny himself any sense that showed he loved Race.
Race seemed to notice Albert’s change of pace. Everything Albert wore was dark. He didn’t laugh, he didn’t cry. He only left the house to do only what was necessary: to eat and to work.
Other than that, he slept.
And he bled.
He made himself bleed. He decided that red would be the only color that made him aware of feeling.
Albert was barely to be considered old. He was withering away from the inside, out. He saw red all day. He made himself see red.
And then one day, there was too much red, too much feeling. Then, all color faded out and all feeling stopped. Darkness and blankness was all that there was.
It was a while before he finally opened his eyes again.
Hospital. Stark, white rooms. Beeping monitors, empty silence, disgusting food. At least the only colors there were whites and grays.
Years after that, he was cautious about red. Strayed away from it. That didn’t mean that he didn’t make himself see red again, though. He was just careful not to make too much of it appear.
He got better. Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, Albert got better.
He painted. He knew how. He’d painted his body red so many times that it came easily. The scenery he made this time was vibrant. But there was never red. Never, ever, ever.
Albert was old when he saw Race again.
Race was dying. It was Race in the hospital this time. Albert was sure to bring flowers of every color. He wanted to be the intricacy of the flowers - if not the color - to be the final thing he associated with Race.
It was then that Race asked him a question.
“Who is it?” It was so simple and followed by an equally simple statement. “You can see color.”
Albert, knowing that there was nothing holding him back now, answered with truth. It was the first time he’d spoken the truth. The first time a lie didn’t escape his mouth. The first time since he’d been sixteen years old.
“You,” was Albert’s answer. And it made Race cry.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m your friend, never anything else.” Albert, too, was crying. Faintly, small tears, but still crying.
“Such a lie,” came Race’s choked reply. It came with a fake, harsh laugh. “The longer I knew you, the more vibrant everything became. I didn’t say…”
“…because you thought we were just friends,” finished Albert, whispering, barely audible. He swiped away tears, and they trickled down his scarred arm. The first time something other than red made him feel.
Race only nodded, and Albert was too overcome by everything to form more words. He just stayed at Race’s side, waiting out the inevitable darkness that was coming for Race.
It was only a few simple hours later that Albert cradled Race in his arms, crying quietly.
It was only then that Albert could manage to say, “I love you.”
But it was too late, for the color had already begun to seep out of Albert’s world.
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