Everyone knows about the colors. Parents talk about them, describing the vibrant world they see to enraptured children, indulgent smiles on their faces. Newlyweds speak of them with awestruck voices, holding onto their new soulmate as their lives become that extra bit richer. Old and wizened people speak of them with fondness, remembering a time when they once saw the world in color and had a partner by their side. The colors are supposed to make your life experience complete.
Wolfgang thinks it's utter bullshit.
His life has been just fine in these shades of gray. He doesn't need anything else. After all, the only use for color is knowing which wire to cut.
At least, that's what his father used to say. Along with the five things in life, these are the words Wolfgang has to remember the old bastard by. He can't say he's sad about it. But he doesn't disagree with his shit father in this aspect- he is content with his worldview. He doesn't need the extra baggage of a soulmate.
Felix carries a similarly blithe attitude. They live a simple life; what is the complication of hues and tints in comparison with the thrill of their small rebellion?
Of course, that small rebellion carried them into an S&D safe, some diamonds, and on the bad side of the Russian mob. Otherwise known as Wolfgang's family. Which means they need to take an extended leave of absence. Luckily, they have a new source of income to fund it. Felix cackles all the way to India.
Why India? No idea, but that is sort of the point. Who would look for two German thieves in Mumbai?
Kala has always had faith. In science, in Ganesha, in the concept of colors her parents have told her about since she was a child. They were lucky, they say, that they were matched together. People don't usually have that kind of fortune.
Luck must run in the family, people tell her.
Rajan is a perfect match, surely she must know that, everyone says if she displays any modicum of uncertainty. Not that she does it that often in the first place. And they're right. As she says in her prayers, he's handsome, he's smart, he's kind- what more can she ask for?
Love, her traitorous mind tells her. A soulmate. Color to wash away the gray.
That is not necessary for a happy marriage, the dutiful side of her replies. Many of the people she knows have never met their soulmate, and this is fine. They are happy, and so will she. She can grow to love him.
She chose this, this life, because her family is happy with it, and she loves her parents and her little sister and their happiness is all she wants in the world. She can't disappoint them.
But that doesn't mean she can't do her job.
She's leaving the restaurant for work when she notices two tourists sitting in the corner, a burly man in a leather jacket and a lankier one in the same clothes. She's intrigued- normally, tourists don't go here- but doesn't pay too much attention to it. She has more important things to think about.
She's fumbling for an umbrella- the weather's been unpredictable lately- when the burly one looks up to call for the check, and their sightlines skitter along each other in a moment too quick to really pinpoint. She catches a glance of ice-blue eyes-
She freezes. Blue.
She barely has time to see the other colors leak into her vision before black overtakes them all.
Wolfgang and Felix take refuge in the mostly residential part of the town, where tourists trickle in if they want to see the "real" city. They could afford to stay at a hotel now, but Wolfgang knows they have a limited supply of diamond money. Despite their initial celebrations, they need to be wise with how they spend it.
He's not going to be stupid. Not like his father.
The food is good, if spicier than the Indian food back in Berlin. His eyes water at the burn, but his pride doesn't let him reach for the water. Felix laughs his head off at the sight.
He wipes his eyes and mock-glares, slapping his friend on the back of the head.
"Shut up," he says, and takes a sip of water, taking a breath to keep himself from gulping it down. Felix keeps laughing. "Are you done?"
He raises his hand for the check, turning his head to see if the waiter is coming around. As he does, his eyes catch those of a girl rushing out of the restaurant from upstairs. For a split second, they connect, and his mouth dries.
She freezes, her eyes widening, and then she collapses.
The restaurant becomes a flurry of activity, voices speaking in rapid-fire Hindi, words he can't understand.
"What the hell?" Felix asks, but he is grinning, somehow able to see the humor in this situation. He cranes his head to see, but Wolfgang gets up, trying to catch a glimpse of her. For some reason, his stomach feels like it has jumped into his throat. Something is off with his perception, but he can't pinpoint what it is.
The chef comes out of the kitchen hurriedly, and he too starts speaking up, shooing people away.
Wolfgang realizes what's wrong with what he's seeing. The green of the chairs. The Hindi in red lettering on the menus. The blue in the jeans he's wearing. In every part of his vision, he sees something…more. Color.
That girl…they made eye contact. And she collapsed. And now he sees in the colors he's always heard of.
"Fuck," he swears, because that sums up the situation.