Chapter 1

Jean

Jean dropped his advanced chemistry textbook onto his bed sighing in frustration. His colourless bed sagging under his weight, he flopped down staring at the sterile white ceiling. Finals were coming soon and he had barely gotten through the first chapter of the assigned homework. Dropping the heavy textbook onto the grey, carpeted floor he sat up, glancing around his room in search of a more interesting activity. He found nothing and sulkily kicked aside a pile of discarded clothes, desperate for an excuse to not sort them out. The list of productive things he ought to do was piling up, while Jean remained more determined than ever to do precisely none of them.

Deciding not to withstand this monotonous dorm room any longer, he pulled on a pair of equally dull, grey shoes, he slipped out of the door and felt the autumn wind harshly whip his fringe across his face. There was a park nearby, and surely 'getting some fresh air' was productive enough? He strolled down the cracked, concrete path that led from his house, planning to waste as much time as possible before he was forced to return to his musty dorm room and resume his studies. Waterfalls of grey leaves cascaded around him, blending into the background of an equally bland city.

He reached the gates of the park: huge, black, iron structures that creaked almost painfully with the slightest movement. Jean walked into the lifeless park surrounded by trees hanging melancholically, their branches almost devoid of leaves and their roots covered by the masses of grey. He proceeded to head to the open plane that was located in the centre of the dreary park. He always had found it the nicest area and often headed there to think. The field was lined by garden beds of carefully tended flowers, just as nondescript as the rest of his surroundings, only drawing attention for a moment, but always failing to make a lasting impression. They were beautiful in comparison to the seemingly dead trees that he had passed earlier, he supposed. In addition the flowers, old, wooden benches were spread throughout the park, some already dilapidated. Jean trudged over to the nearest one and sat down heavily with a sigh. It was so tedious, this world where everything was monotonous and grey. His mind drifted to the stories he used to love to read, where a thing called colour existed. 'The water' he thought, his eyes flicking to the unused, moldy waterfall that was in the centre, 'was supposed to be blue.'

He stared, daze-like, at the old waterfall for quite some time. Until his vision was cut off by some freckled guy he'd never seen before. At first, he didn't take much note of him, but then, as he walked past the bench… something caught his eye. Colour. No, that couldn't be right... After a lifetime of being surrounded by endless shades of grey, why would a passing stranger have any effect on the way he saw the world? But… there had been a flash of colour, just before the guy had turned away, Jean was sure of it. The stranger's eyes, surrounded by slightly tousled black hair, deviated from the emotionless grey. They were a warm hazel, like a hot chocolate on a winter night. Jean shook his head again to clear it. There was no way, perhaps he'd just imagined it. Regardless, he stood up, his legs aching from the cold and cast his eyes around for the stranger. Spotting him, he strode over purposefully to the bench next to the one he previously occupied. He stopped a few meters short and simply watched him, as he sat there seemingly deep in thought with a warm smile playing on his lips. That is until he turned his head toward Jean and smiled brightly. Jean found the guy's eyes, sure enough they were that same, warm hazel. Marco cocked his head slightly, his radiant smile not faltering and patted the space next to him, in an invitation. Jean was shocked into action, apologies spilling out of him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare, it's just…" He trailed off, unsure of himself.

Unfazed by Jean's flusteredness, the stranger chuckled amusedly and replied:

"No… I see it too." At this, he blushed, his freckled cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. Jean couldn't deny what he was seeing, another colour just as pleasant and beautiful as the last.

"Y-you see what?" Jean blurted out. Surely the other couldn't be seeing the same in him?

The stranger looked away suddenly, embarrassed.

"Ohh… never mind. It's just me then... I'm Marco, by the way." His smile emerged again at the end of his sentence, filling Jean with a feeling of happiness. He smiled in return, it had been a long time since he felt this much joy. Jean scratched the back of his head, struggling to come up with a conversation topic. His eyes unintentionally roamed over Marco, only now realising how attractive he was. Like, really goddamn attractive-Jean had dated a few boys in the past, but none of them had given him this same feeling of… belonging. He couldn't stop himself from staring into those eyes, those eyes that sparkled like Jean had just told the best joke in the world, like Marco was being tickled by life. And best of all, they were filled with dazzlingly bright colour. None of this helped him speak like an intelligent human being. Marco, who must've sensed Jean's discomfort, laughed lightly. Jean became more flustered at this and hastily blurted out,

" So do you come here often?" Oh wow, yeah, smooth. Marco giggled loudly and managed to answer between more fits of laughter.

"Not.. Ha… Really.. Haha." He practically gasped out. Jean mock frowned at him, the corners of his lips turning up regardless. He glanced down quickly at the silver wristwatch he always wore, cursing as he realised it was already 7. He looked up at Marco, with some regret in his eyes.

"Look I really have to go, but I'd love to meet you again so uh here's my phone number?" he told him, the pitch of his voice rising steadily towards the end. Marco grinned at him and Jean, who took this as a sign of approval, extended his phone with the number displayed on the screen. Marco, quickly pulling out his own android, typed in the number.

"Th-thanks!" Jean stuttered hurriedly, and put the phone away. He hesitated, wanting to say something more. He had to know if Marco had really meant what he'd said about 'seeing it too'.

He was blushing madly while trying to figure out what to say, before he was cut off. Marco was blushing adorably as he stood up, and began walking away. Then, as though he was getting something important off his chest he turned around quickly and quietly said with a shy smile,

"You don't know, but you have really beautiful eyes."