Harley stood on the other side of the screen, worry etched on his face. But he quickly hid it with a grin.
Wobbly hand extending up, I reluctantly flicked the lock on the screen door and pushed it open.
He was quick to enter, glancing around at the darkness. "Can we put a light on?" he distrubed the silence.
"I don't have my contacts in," I quickly said back.
Head whipping my way, his brows pulled together as he replied, "What does that mean?"
Holding up my glasses, I said, "It means I have to wear these. And... I don't like wearing them at home." Could he hear the lie? Did he know I was still desperate to look my best self in front of him, even if he might find out my truth today?
"Oh... sorry. We can leave the light off."
He walked a little further into my house, hand extending to feel for furniture, as I slipped around behind him, closing the front door again.
Then, ever so gently, I grabbed his arm.
A thousand electrical currents shot all through me at the feeling of his skin under my hand.
I slowly led him through the house, guiding him to the couch so that he could sit.
"Thanks," he muttered. "Night vision isn't my strong point."
"Guess we're opposites then."
"We certainly are."
Words that were meant to sound like an agreement to my joke only hit like knives as I sat next to him. Grabbing a pillow, I plopped it in my lap, hugging it close as we stared around the dark room.
"Can you really see me in colour?" he finally voiced the very topic I had been avoiding like the plague.
"Yes," I admitted in a whisper. "I believe so."
"Why?"
"I... I don't know?" I tried.
"How do you know I'm in colour though?"
"Well, I'm quite the expert in black and white and grey, I'd say. And you're not any of them... I just, I don't know what the colours are."
"Has this happened before?"
"No." I hoped my nonanswers would buy me time to think of a story... of an explanation before we neared the topic I dreaded.
I watched his brows pull together as he squinted at me in the darkness. "Do you have any theories as to why?"
"A few..." I mumbled.
"Such as?"
"Well... a couple of years ago I had an experimental gene therapy done." Would he buy it?
"What does that involve?"
"So your vision is made of two parts. Cones and rods. Cones allow you to see colour and in daylight conditions, but my cones don't work. Rods don't see colour and kind of suck in the sharpness, making me have a condition called photophobia." I knew I was waffling to fill time, but he seemed oblivious so far. "The surgery they did involved putting me under and injecting a special virus into the area where my cones and rods sit to improve daytime vision."
"And... did it work?"
"Yeah. Not enough, obviously, which is why I still wear sunglasses outside and my contacts inside. But classrooms don't hurt too much anymore for contacts. My parents were determined to get me back to school and they knew I wouldn't go if I still had to wear my fitted glasses inside after how much kids in primary school used to..." But I stopped myself before I got there.
"Make fun of you?" he finished for me
"Yeah," I mumbled.
"Gosh people suck sometimes." He relaxed into the couch, head turning toward the ceiling.
"Mhmm," I mumbled back, but how could I say he was probably just the person who'd join in with them?
But would he? My heart whispered. He never treated you differently once he knew. He never outed you in front of the class when the teacher picked on you that time...
Though as I started to get lost in my internal questioning of his character, he suddenly asked, "So what does the therapy have to do with the colour? You said it was for light."
"I was thinking a side effect?" But if it was, I should be alerting the researchers and newspapers and everything in between. Because it meant there was possibly a cure for my condition...
"Hmm. Is that possible?" I could tell from the expression from his face that he wasn't quite buying my theory.
"Not that I know of... but they haven't exactly done tests on it."
"Well, perhaps you should get it checked out?"
But I was already shaking my head. And that much he could see.
"Why not?"
"When I got the therapy done, mum was freaking out the whole time thinking she made a mistake."
"Why?"
"Because I took much longer than most patients to wake up. Or to see. Very few people had reactions to the therapy, but... there were rumours of some losing sight."
"Seriously?"
I nodded.
"Then perhaps this is a side effect."
"Maybe..." I mumbled, a little off-guard as I recalled mum's tenacious worry and overbearingness after the surgery.
"You don't sound sure... what's your other theory?"
"I don't have another theory," I blurted, desperate to not venture into that territory.
"You must. Because you don't sound convinced on the one you're giving me."
"I don't know what you're talking about..." But my squeaky tone was giving me away.
"Please, Indi. I want to know."
"Why?" My eyes fixed on his, searching for deceit. For reasons. For explanations to his persistence.
And then he hit me with, "Because... For the first time, I feel like I'm special to someone. And I guess I'm trying to dull that hope."
My heart almost quite literally burst in my chest to know that what was going on here was elating him that much. That he liked that I could see him in colour. But the idea of confessing outright that colour and crush were, as Carys said, cut from the same cloth was too scary. So I decided to ease into the topic to test the waters. "The colour has faded before."
"It has?"
I nodded. "I once saw you in black and white."
"When?"
"When you made that joke about me having siblings with other colour names."
I heard his breathing stop for the moment as his face contorted in pain. Then he was quick to splutter, "I'm so sorry I said—"
"Water under the bridge, Harley. It's fine. Really."
"Were there other times?" he asked, body turning as his eyes eagerly searched the darkness for me.
I nodded again.
"When?" he tried to pry out of me.
"Times you've been distant... When you started dating Lara. When you stopped asking for my pen." Did he get what I was hinting at?
Again he froze. And I went just as still... worried that his stiffness was his disgust as he evidently put the pieces of the puzzle together.
Then he said, "So... when we're not getting along?"
"Yeah. Seems so..."
He was quiet for another moment until he asked, "But... why me? If it hasn't happened before, why me?"
I shrugged, even though I knew the answer.
And it was clear he could sense my hesitancy. Because he pressed more directly, "Why do you think it's happening, Indi?"
"I'm probably imagining things. It's got to be a hallucination."
His gaze narrowed at me. "What if you're not?"
"Well, there's no way to be sure."
We were silent for a moment, and I started to turn my head away, hiding my face from his intense stare.
Though next I knew, he said, "Put those glasses on."
"What? Why?"
"Because I need light."
"I don't want to put them on." I was too scared he'd see how hot my face had gone thanks to my thumping heart pumping blood through me at an exponential rate.
"You know I won't make fun of you, right? I'd never do that."
"Says the one who calls me gadget."
"Indi..."
With a sigh, I picked up my glasses on the table before placing them on my face. Then, I got to my feet and flicked on the light.
Harley sat on the couch, blinking in its harshness as his eyes adjusted. But as he sought me out in the room, he smiled. "Love the Cookie Monsters."
My face immediately washed with heat as I wondered where I could possibly hide. Running over to the couch, I yanked the blanket off the back and draped it over my lap. "Shut up," I mumbled.
"Sorry," he whispered, shifting closer to me on the couch. "Sometimes I can't help but tease you. Your reactions are so..."
Cute? Adorable? Oh please say that...
"Funny."
My heart sank. And he moved away.
"Anyway, back to business. When you look at me, what is in colour?"
Eyes glancing over him, I took in his appearance. "All of you?"
He nodded. "And my shirt? What colour is it?"
"Grey?"
He shook his head. "It's blue."
"Oh... So I guess it's just you then."
But then, next I knew, he was leaning back on the couch, hand prying at the bottom of his shirt.
"Ah, what are you—"
But before I could ask, he lifted it up, revealing his solid stomach and—
"Is that a tattoo?" I remarked, leaning in. "You're not even eighteen."
The corners of his lips turned up as I inspected the dragon, a myriad of beautiful colours. "And?" he prompted. "What do you see?"
"It's in colour," I insisted, glancing up at him. "I just... I don't know how to label them."
Brows pulling together, he dropped his shirt as his eyes searched my face. Then, once again, he lit up as an idea seemed to pop into his head. "Do you have any coloured markers?"
"Er... I'm sure there's some somewhere. I just... wouldn't know if they were coloured?"
"Right. Of course. Where might I find some if you have them?" He was already getting to his feet.
"Down the hall. First door on the right is the study."
And he was gone, disappearing where I couldn't see him, my world around me becoming only various shades of grey.
But he wasn't gone too long, thankfully. After much thumping and bumping, he finally emerged again, hands clutched around a stack of markers.
As he sat next to me, he splayed them on the coffee table. "They aren't labelled with any colours, so there's no way you can cheat," he said.
But my brows merely furrowed as I tried to figure out what he was doing.
Next I knew, he uncapped one and began tracing over his hand.
As I watched the grey tip collide with his skin though, suddenly a bright colour appeared.
"What the—" I leaned closer, inspecting it. "What the heck is that?"
"This is yellow," he smiled at me, though I could see the hesitancy on his face. He capped that marker, placed it back on the table, then grabbed another. Dragging the new colour across the back of his hand, I watched, mesmerised, as another hue I had never seen before came out of the grey as it touched him.
"And this one?" I glanced up at him.
"Green."
I nodded, eyes focussed on the new grey colour he had picked up. Though the moment he began drawing a line on his skin with this one, I couldn't stop myself saying, "This is the same colour as your eyes," I breathed.
His movements jolted, the arched line gaining a slight crooked mark. But then he quickly finished the arc, seeming to be creating some form of rainbow shape. "Yes... this is blue."
"Blue," I said softly, eyes slowly lifting to his. "The colour of your eyes and shirt?"
He nodded, gaze fixed on my face as we stared at each other for a few moments too long. Long enough for the air to grow warm. For my heart to slowly reach a crescendo.
"And what does the colour of those pjs I wore the other night look like?" I finally disturbed the moment when I became too scared that, any longer of this, my heart might quite literally jump out of my chest and wrap itself around him.
I watched his adam's apple dip before he seemed to also come back to the present. Reaching over, he picked up another grey marker and added it to the rainbow.
My eyes widened. "They were that shade?"
"A little softer... more muted. But, yeah."
"Oh my gosh." I grabbed the blanket and pulled it over my head, begging the floor to swallow me up.
All the while, Harley let out a chuckle before gently prying the blanket from my face.
But as I came back to the world, I realised he was much closer than before.
And, at once, my cheeks began to heat again at his proximity.
Ever so slowly, his hands reached up to my face. Fingers brushing against my cheek, I felt my breath catch in my throat.
Then, at once, the glasses began to withdraw from my face.
"I can't see without—"
"I just want to see your real eyes for a moment," he said back.
I squinted as they came away, barely able to make out anything in the room as the world became vividly white as my eyes tried to adjust.
"Does it hurt?" he said.
"A little. The lights are really bright in here."
I could hear movement, his warmth that was resonating near me disappearing.
But, next I knew, the room went dark again, allowing me to open my eyes. Then, the table lamp on the nearby bookshelf flickered on.
Harley slowly walked closer as I squinted my eyes slightly this time. But as he sat across from me, leaning in to look at me, again, my heart began to race.
I watched as the corners of his lips turned upwards as I felt his warm breath hitting my chin. "I see where you get your name from," he said, voice low and rumbly.
"Mhmm," was all I managed to get out, throat as dry as the Sahara desert with him this close.
But then his hands reached up, the glasses sliding back over my face before he leaned away.
"So you can see colour," he said.
"Only on you," I added.
"But that disappears if I'm a jerk?"
"Yes... or it fades if you become distant."
Then he hit me with, "Does it have to do with our friendship?"
My brows pulled together as I wondered how to answer that. Because I could lie and say yes... I should lie. His girlfriend was only just down the road. And with that thought in my mind, I forced out, "Probably."
"Why can't you see Carys in colour? You two are closer."
I turned my head away. "Maybe you've got some gene that lights you up. Who knows."
He was quiet for a few moments, until he said, "Indi... why do I feel like you're keeping something from me again?"
"Because... I am, okay?" I turned back to face him, now frustrated. "But, let's just leave it at this. The why isn't important here. Just know that you are in colour to me, and I'm working on getting rid of it, okay? You really should go."
Though he didn't hear my last statement. Or he chose to ignore it. Because he said, "Get rid of it? Why would you want to do that?"
"Because I don't think it's healthy."
"Seeing colour isn't healthy?"
"Not in this instance."
"Indi... I'm happy to add that colour to your life if—"
"But I'm not happy!" I unfortunately snapped.
Harley went still, all remaining joy fading from his face as he searched me again. "Why not?"
"Because... seeing you in colour hurts."
"Hurts? Then you should get it checked out—"
"Last I checked, doctors don't have cures for crushes."
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