Mummy?
Yes?
Why are you sad?
Because I've got nothing to be happy about.
You've got me.
Yes, I do.
Dull.
Everything was just… dull.
Stupid people, living stupid ordinary lives, worrying about insignificant trivial stupid things, waiting for geniuses to show up and fix everything for them.
It was terribly dull.
Jim walked along the street, past the boring people, past their boring shops, wishing he could escape their boring world. It was suffocating, the way one small street could fill up with so much stupidity, and he could feel other people's thoughts and fears jostling up against him, threatening to knock him off balance.
It was so very dull.
Jim had complained to Seb about it once, and Seb had nodded but not really acknowledged him, and most likely he hadn't even understood what Jim meant. Yes, the world was dull as in boring, but to Jim everything was literally dull and colorless. That was the worst part. He could put up with the stupidity, the boredom, but to live in a world without color was unbearable.
Mummy?
Yes, Jimmy?
Do you like my picture?
Yes, dear.
Do you like the flower?
Oh, yes. What a lovely shade of red.
I drew it for you, Mummy.
I know, dear. I know.
He stood on the corner, black shoes against a grey sidewalk, hiding in a crowd of grey people in grey clothes. There had been a time when everything was simpler, when things were beautiful, when life was colorful. The people around him talked animatedly and cars whizzed by and he heard a faint buzz in his ears but not much more. If he strained he could make out individual words, but the people were too boring for him to try.
The light changed from grey to grey, and the mob of people surged forward, pulling Jim with them. His suitcase banged against his leg and he almost turned to snap at the idiotic woman behind him- Why couldn't she look where she was going? He could have her killed in a second, had she any brains? But he didn't, there was no time and he had to stay focused, keep a calm outward appearance.
He had tea and a scone in a cheerful bakery where he flirted with the girl behind the register. She was a lot like Molly Hooper, the same empty smile and worried glances to the corner. She probably had a billion cats as well, and spent her Saturday evenings sobbing about how no one loved her. Disgusting.
The tea tasted like water and the scone barely tasted at all, but he ate it anyway and made a show of being an ordinary businessman on lunchbreak, checking his phone for supposedly important messages and staring at the grey wall which was probably pink. Ick.
Fifteen minutes later he said goodbye to the girl and left, making sure that his suitcase was still leaning against his chair.
Mummy, are you going to die?
Everybody dies, dear.
I don't want you to die. I'll cry if you do.
Don't, Jim. There's nothing you can do.
You shouldn't have to die.
Everyone dies, Jimmy. Everyone.
He was just far enough away when it happened. His whole body shook from the force of the blast and the scream pierced his eardrums like a dagger. He turned around eagerly and the world exploded into color, reds and oranges streaking across his vision as the bakery crumpled and burned. The sky was a beautiful blue and the sobbing woman was wearing a gorgeous green dress, her golden hair shining wonderfully in the sunlight. Flames licked over the building in dazzling hues and crackled in a lovely way. Someone was running up to him and pulling on his arm for help and he could hear his voice, deep and rough and clear, each word loud and audible. He wanted Jim to help rescue people or get to safety or something boring but Jim ignored him and continued to bask in the glory of the world, in the colors and sounds and senses he'd created with one small explosion.
It wouldn't last, of course it wouldn't, he'd wake up the next morning to a grey life again, but for once, just once, the world wasn't boring.