Stanley is still a young lad when he realizes that whoever gives him his colors, and that person is coming he can feel it in his bones, will be a boy. He doesn't tell his maman nor his papa, but he knows it. He knows it like he knows the differences between fabrics, like he knows his young sisters and how he knows that his parents love each other very much; there's no doubt in his heart about it.

Girls are pretty, but for Stanley they're just that: pretty. He doesn't want to hold their hands or kiss them, nor does he feel shy talking with one. He envies the softness of their clothes, tries to wonder the true color behind the light grey of it, but he does that with any beautiful fabric in his family's shop too.

But boys make his heart skip a beat and his hands sweat. They like to play dirty just like him but some can be soft and sweet. Their clothes aren't pretty but they don't need to be, even if Stanley wishes they were, because it's not at them Stanley is looking.

So he knows.

Sometimes he wonders who will it be and mourns for each boy he meets that doesn't end with an explosion of colors. It's not Louis who always plays swords with Stanley, nor Jean who's the first of them to lose baby fat. It's not Manny with his shiny long curls and it's not the blond boy who locked eyes with him at the market.

But his love is coming, he knows. One day.

Will he be rough and handsome like Gaston, or will he be sweet and like fabrics like him? Will he have a voice as beautiful as his Maman's? Maybe he will dance, happiness translating through fluid rhythmic movements?

When Tom and Dick admit to Stanley that they're each other's soulmate and that they've known that since kids, he's happy. Not only that his two good friends have found their other parts but that he's not alone, that they're like him. But Dick still comments on passing ladies and months later Tom starts courting Colette, and even in private they're not all over each other. Stanley knows not all soulmates are romantic, but…

Isn't it scary?

He's supportive of his friends regardless, helps them around town and is the perfect image of a wingman. When the war comes and Stanley is still far too young to be enlisted, he's glad they have each other to stay safe, to be there. Stanley hopes that whoever his soulmate is, that he has someone at his side too. War is terrifying when you're alone.

It's when the soldiers come home that he meets him.

Him.

Stanley is hugging Tom and Dick, thanking the lord that they came home and laughing at the exaggerated tales of battles they are sharing, when Gaston walks by him. He's a Captain now, he's heard.

And at his side is Stanley's soulmate. LeFou.

Stanley never met him in person, but he remembers the boy who used to follow the others around. Always cheery, always smiling.

The moment they lock eyes he knows it's him, before the colors even burst in. He knows deep in his soul that he's found his home in that wide gapped smile, in that comforting laughter and soft face. His love. His soulmate.

His fool.

He looks down at his clothes, eager to see the colors—this is salmon, he knows. Stanley knows the name of the colors of every single piece he owns and kept his favorite fabrics in a box for after he found his soulmate, found LeFou, he could go there and find what they truly looked like. He decides he likes this color, but he prefers the one in LeFou's oversized bow.

He prefers the color of his eyes even more.

Stanley looks up again, smiling, wanting to look into them again. Wanting to never look away, to be his forever and to be the reason for his smile. He's waited so long for this, for him. Will his kiss be as sweet as the man himself?

LeFou is still standing in front of him, happiness and fondness clear in his stare, grin wide.

But it's not at him he's looking at.