There's something different to life when you can't see colors. You wouldn't expect this to be so, but it is.
When you can't see the way the skyline lightens into a pure blue, hiding distant mountains behind a pleasant shade; well, there's less of an incentive to spread your legs and run to the tops of those mystical hills. When the only way you can tell how deep a body of water is by squinting at the different shades of grey, there's less of a want to dive into those cool depths. When you have no idea what the slightly varying shades of grey in the dying leaves represents, is it worth it to take a walk through the woods?
And when you can see colors, no one else will understand. Try describing to a friend what color a sunset is. Try expressing the beauty of that friend's eyes. Try to find the way you would let that friend see what you see. It's certainly more difficult than it sounds. What's the purpose of enjoying the world around you when there is no way to describe what you've seen to others?
This is the fatal flaw of humanity.
Those who can see the colors are both happier and more stressed. They find comfort in the vibrant world around them; but are forced to keep it to who can't see the colors are both more focused and more distracted. They don't need to stop to watch the flowers bloom, because to them, it's just a grey bud turning into a grey plant. But, sometimes, when those thoughts keep them up at night, they take far, far longer getting to work in the morning; slowing their steps to look up at the grey sky and grey clouds. What colors could be hidden there?
Now, for a long time, scientists couldn't tell why some could see what others couldn't. The sight would come and go; there one second and then flickering into grayscale the next. It was deemed looking into.
It was sometime around the sixteenth century that scientists and philosophers agreed that, upon testing couples, only those who were born to be together could see the colors of the world. If you were not meant to be with your partner, you wouldn't be able to experience what others could. But, with further exploration, the scientists discovered another factor.
You could only see the colors if your partner and you were meant to be together; connected by the strings of fate and the words of gods, but, there was a catch. The both of you could only see the colors, if you were touching each other. Once your skin brushed away from the other, so did the hues of the world.
It is reported that the couples in these experiments were desperate to stay touching. When the scientists segregated them; the couples did everything in their power to return to their partner. In some cases, they even resulted to using violence to get what they wanted.
This is why, in my highest opinion, this need to search out your "soulmate", as a great sixteenth century writer dubbed, is not only immature, distracting, and crude, but also dangerous. Anyone who actively searches out the soulmate that will bring them color should be considered incapable to produce educated cognitive thought.
A. Ham, 15
That excerpt was from a report Alexander Hamilton wrote when he was fifteen. It's what got his cousin's attention enough to wrangle up the money for a ticket to the mainland. Four years and a new home later, and Alexander still feels the same way. He had never searched out for his soulmate. It was just another unnecessary distraction.
Now he had far more important things to work on. Like fighting a war and creating a new nation. He had just introduced himself to none other than Aaron Burr, who then introduced him to three revolutionists.
"I'm John Laurens." The attractive man said, holding out his hand to shake. Hamilton reached forward to take his, but was cut off as another man pushed in front of him.
"Oui, oui, mon ami." The man appeared to be teasing Laurens, who was shooting him a deadly glare. Grinning, the new man introduced himself, "Je m'appelle Lafayette! Comment vous appelez-vous?"
"Je m'appelle Hamilton! Je suis enchanté de faire votre connaissance!" Alexander said, smiling politely.
Lafayette blinked rapidly, then his face split into a wide grin. "Mon dieu! Il parle français!"
"Oh god, there's two of them." The third man muttered and Aaron Burr smirked in response. The third man pushed Lafayette away gently, "And, I'm Hercules Mulligan."
The more the men talked, the more they realized they all had the same passion to make the colonies their own independent country. Hamilton grew close to the three a lot faster than he expected himself to; he hardly noticed when they left Aaron Burr to sulk alone in the corner.
They left the bar late into the evening; the sun sinking below the skyline. Leaving the sky just a slightly lighter shade of grey.
Hamilton thought nothing of it when Herc clapped his shoulder as he passed him; heading towards his hotel room. He didn't recognize what was happening when Laf ran his fingers through Alexander's hair, whispering a sultry, "J'ai juste realisé ceci, mais vous ressemblez beaucoup à mon prochain petit ami."
"Arrête de m'harceler!" Hamilton laughed, "We only just met!"
Lafayette snorted and shook his head, "That's fair." He gave a short wave as he followed Herc, "Adieu, Alexander."
"À plus tard, Lafayette." Alexander chuckled, ready to head towards his small apartment. He stumbled and immediately fell into John Laurens. The both of them crashing to the ground outside the bar. "Shit! I'm so sorry, John."
But his new friend was silent. Alex looked down at him, shifting so his weight wasn't crushing the slightly bigger man. Laurens was staring at him like he just offered him the key to the king's castle. John's eyes darted back and forth between Hamilton's. Then, they glanced over to their left, to the sunset. Hamilton watched as John sucked in a shaky breath.
Alexander looked over, but it looked the same as always. Just a grey ball on a grey sky going below a grey city. Glancing back at John, he saw tears forming in the other's eyes.
"Do you see them?" John whispered, his eyes not leaving the sunset.
"See what?" Alex asked, frowning. This was getting weird. His new friend may have a few screws loose upstairs. John's face snapped up to look at him; his eyes darkening. Hamilton could feel the shudder run through the other man's body.
"Nothing." John said, cold and hollow, "Nevermind."
Alexander shrugged and helped Laurens up. "Okay, well, have a good night, Laurens."
"Yeah." John said, still holding his hand, his eyes distant. Hamilton laughed awkwardly and pulled his hand away. He watched as John snapped back into the moment, blinking rapidly. Laurens cleared his throat and then quickly pushed past him, running in the same way Herc and Laf.
Hamilton watched him for a moment before deciding it must be a colony thing. He headed home without any further incident.
Laf and Herc were waiting for him, just past the corner of the bar. Laurens was sprinting so fast, tears in his eyes, that he almost ran right past them. The other two stopped their conversation when he ran up.
"Oh, John…" Hercules whispered, pulling him into a hug. "It's okay, he wasn't ours either."
"Yeah. I thought for a second, he might've been mine, but, nothing." Lafayette added, pouting slightly.
"You have to stop hoping that every pretty face is yours." Herc continued, "I know that you liked this one, but you don't even know if he's like that."
"Trust me," Laf winked, "He is."
John was shaking in Hercule's arms, "...That's not it."
"Did he say something?" Herc's arms tightened slightly, and Laf's expression darkened.
John shook his head, "No, no…" He took a deep, shuddering breath, "He's mine… But I'm not his."
The two men looked at each other, this sort of thing has never been heard of before. Someone whose soulmate wasn't theirs? That's impossible.
"How do you know?" Hercules asked slowly.
John pushed himself away slightly, "When we touched, I could see the sunset. But he couldn't."
"What'd it look like?" Lafayette asked, voice a desperate whisper.
"Beautiful." John replied, his hands still shaking. "I have to see it again."
Herc shrugged, "Well, at least you know who to go to."
John shook his head, biting his lip. "What luck I have."
It was a ball like no other. In a dark December night, a group of revolutionists and New York's finest got together to get shitfaced and dance the night away. John was hanging on Alexander's arm, which he's done ever since the two first met. The man was just a touchy individual; Alex didn't see anything wrong with it.
Aaron came up to him, almost looking excited. That was Alex's first clue that the man had already started drinking. The second was how he slung his arm around Alex's shoulder and pointed across the room. He slurred in Alex's ear, "The Schuyler sisters."
"So they're the goal for the night?" Alex laughed at his friend's antics.
"One of 'em." Aaron muttered, taking another swig of his drink.
"Which is the most important?" Alex asked, his voice quiet.
Aaron pointed to the sister that was dancing around the room, a bright smile on her face. "Angelica. She's the oldest, prettiest, and smartest. She's just all the 'est's."
"God, you are wasted." Alex snorted, "So she's who you want to dance with?"
"Yeah. Yeah." Aaron said, shortly after mumbling, "'m not wasted."
There was a short pause as the two men watched the sisters interact. Then, like a little child, Hamilton quickly said, "Bet I can dance with her first."
"What?!" Aaron and John said at the same time.
"John, hold Burr." Alex said as he slipped away into the crowd.
John's arm was still extended, reaching out for the colors that left the second Alex did. His heart was sinking lower and lower the closer Alexander got to Angelica. Aaron straightened, suddenly appearing much more sober than before.
"When are you going to tell him, Laurens?" The other man said, setting his drink down, almost looking disgusted by it.
"W-what?" John tore his gaze away from the scene before him to look to Burr. He knew what colors were supposed to be dancing in the other man's eyes, but all he saw was grey.
"He's yours. When are you going to tell him?" Aaron said, watching as Alex charmed the eldest sister.
John choked on his spit, "I-I- I don't know what you're-"
Aaron stepped closer, lowering his voice, "John, it's obvious. No one touches someone that much if it doesn't mean something."
There was fear in John's eyes, and it must've shown, because the other man's face softened, "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. It's not my position to do anything. I was just … curious."
"You sent him over there on purpose." John whispered, realizing what just happened. "Jesus, Aaron, what if she's his-"
"John, worry less." Aaron said, watching the grey figures dance together, "He's coming back."
Relief washed through John as his Alexander walked back to him. He extended his arm, latching himself to Alex's side as soon as he could. Alex didn't seem to notice, but John felt lighter as the room burst into color.
God, Alex was beautiful in color. His eyes were so vibrant, his cheeks always flushed, and the way the candlelight danced across his skin made John want to cry. He zoned out as Alex and Aaron started up a conversation. If Alexander realized that Burr wasn't nearly as drunk as he was led to believe; he didn't mention it.
Angelica brought her little sister to dance with Alex. Which meant John had to let go again. But Angelica entertained him by dancing with him. Neither of them even pretended to not be watching the new couple a few feet away.
At the first touch, John watched as Eliza went through the same thing he did. She gasped, her face lighting up with delight as the room burst into shades of reds and greens. She looked back at Alex, who gave her a confused smile. Angelica growled at the sight of it.
"She's not his." She muttered.
"But he's hers." John replied.
"I've never heard of that before." Angelica didn't look away from her sister, who was quickly stepping back from Hamilton.
John's voice was flat, empty, yet full of pain, "Me neither."
When it was clear Eliza was running away from the situation, Angelica dropped his hands and raced after her without another word. John gazed sadly at Alex as he wondered why he was abandoned before they could even finish the first dance.
John forced a smile on his face as Alex weaved his way through the crowd, reaching out to grab Lauren's hand. As color washed back over the room, John relaxed slightly.
At least Alex always came back to him.
Alexander got a letter one day. Which wasn't uncommon. He got plenty of letters every day; from many, many different people. But this specific letter was one that destroyed him.
It was from South Carolina. But it wasn't from John.
It said;
"On Tuesday the twenty-seventh, Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens was killed in a gunfight against British troops in South Carolina. These troops had not yet received word from Yorktown that the war was over. He is buried here until his family can send for his remains. As you may know, John dreamed of emancipating and recruiting 3000 men for the first all-black military regiment. The surviving members of this regiment were returned to their masters.
We send this letter to you, Alexander Hamilton, on Lauren's request; as he had written you as his soulmate. Encompassed in this envelope is a letter he had written for you, should he die in battle."
Soulmate?
Alex's fingers were shaking as he pulled out the handwritten letter folded inside. He choked on the few sentences written there.
'It was you. It was always you. Thank you, for bringing color to my life, even if I couldn't do the same for you.'
"Oh, John…" Alex choked, his voice trembling with sobs threatening to escape. "I'm so sorry."
Everything made sense now. Their first meeting, up until John held on to Alex and wouldn't let go the night he was leaving for South Carolina. Alex had laughed at him for his clinginess back then. God, he wished he held him closer now.
Maybe it's selfish, but Alexander used this as just another reason why people shouldn't focus on their soulmates. Even as a teenager, Alexander knew, it would only lead to pain.
So he buried himself in his work. Became a lawyer; the best in the business. He worked under Washington's guide. He became the Secretary of Treasury. With each grey sunset, he slowly repressed the thought of a soulmate. More and more, he forced himself to feel blessed that he never found a soulmate. He really didn't need that kind of distraction in his life.
And then, there was Thomas Jefferson. That fucker.
Hamilton is a polite man, his mother taught him his manners in her short time. So when a new man walked into the office, and everyone swarmed him, welcoming him home, Hamilton approached slowly.
"Thomas Jefferson?" Alex clarified. The man turned to look at him, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. Alex held out his hand to shake, "Alexander Hamilton."
James Madison tugged on Thomas's arm, whispering non-too-quietly, "This is the man I told you about."
"Hmm." Jefferson's gaze flicked over him, unimpressed. "This is the man ruining America?"
"Excuse me?!" Alex balked, dropping his hand.
Madison nodded, resting his head on Jefferson's shoulder. Hamilton recognized that kind of physical contact. He didn't have a single doubt in his mind that Madison could see colors right now. Hamilton opened his mouth to comment about that little fact, but Washington stepped between them.
"Gentlemen, please. You can fight at the cabinet meeting."
"Yes, sir." Hamilton mumbled, stepping away.
Thomas raised an eyebrow, his lips coiling into something unpleasant.
Many could tell, Washington regretted having these two men on his team immediately. The shouting and snide comments were awful. Thomas could just say one or two words and it would send Hamilton into a fit for weeks. And vise versa, Alex could just send Jefferson a certain look and it would have him ranting to anyone who would listen until his voice went hoarse.
"No, I'm done. That's all I had to say." Thomas sighed, leaning back into Madison's touch. The other man was currently giving him a massage, working the knots out of his muscles. His shirt was off, because Madison claims that's the best way to relax.
"Hmm." James hummed as his fingers worked expertly into his shoulder.
"AND!" Thomas continued, "He thinks this is fucking funny! I know he does! That's got to be the only reason. I can't figure out why the hell someone would be this stupid on purpose! Because he's a smart man, James. I hate to say it, but he is. But he proposes the stupidest ideas!"
James smiled at the red flush on his friend's face. He walked around him, keeping a hand on his shoulder, so he could get a better look at that juicy angry blush. Madison sighed as he settled himself in Jefferson's lap, continuing the massage this way.
Thomas didn't comment on it; they've certainly done weirder things together.
"I think he genuinely believes what he's saying." James says. "He might just be that stupid."
"You're probably right." Thomas sighed, tipping his head back. James' gaze swept down to that gorgeously tan skin. They were quiet for a few moments and then Thomas laughs softly, "Is it weird that I want to know what color his eyes are?"
"Brown." James replied immediately.
Both of them froze. Thomas slowly tilted his head back down, his eyes still closed. James' hands fell from his shoulders, as he gulped.
"James." Thomas said, slow and perilous.
Madison licked his lips, "Thomas."
Thomas opened his eyes, those deep browns sharp with danger. He looked his friend up and down, a quick flick of the eyes. Maybe he didn't see what was there. Or maybe he just didn't care. Either way, he rolled his eyes and deadpanned, "That doesn't help me at all. I don't know what brown looks like."
"Right." James sighed, relieved that Thomas wasn't going to question him. "Sorry."
Naturally, things only escalated. Casual insults turned into barbing threats and, really, it should have been expected when Thomas said something a bit too cruel and Hamilton launched himself across the table.
Everyone screamed, scrambling out of the way as Thomas and Hamilton landing painfully on the ground. Hamilton raised his fist, ready to show this motherfucker what he thought of his financial proposal. But he froze as he opened his tear-filled eyes.
Thomas was under him; his caramel cheeks dusted with a pink flush, his deep brown eyes wide with a flurry of emotions. Hamilton's breath caught in his throat and he gently lowered his hand. He looked up at the room around them.
Bright, gorgeous colors invaded his eyes. There was so many things he'd never seen before hidden in the grey shadows that were now at the forefront of his mind. People were staring at them. They were full of color, too. Everything appeared so glorious, so beautiful, that for the first time in his life, Hamilton understood why people strived for this so much.
Alexander looked back down to Thomas, but the man hadn't moved. He was still staring at Alexander, the same expression on his face. He appeared in a trance. Alex realized why.
"Holy shit." Alex whispered, recognition dawning on his features. If he could see color, and he's touching Thomas, that means that… "Holy fucking shit."
"Hamilton!" Washington shouted, pulling him up and off of Thomas. As he did so, the two lost touch and the color was zapped from their worlds. It was only then, when the world turned monochromatic again, did Thomas finally take in a breath and snap out of whatever had hypnotized him.
Alexander couldn't tell you what Washington was saying. He could assume it was the usual, 'what is wrong with you, son? You can't hit people!' lecture. But none of the words stuck. All he could do was stare at Thomas's grey face as Madison helped him to his feet. Madison made eye contact with Alex, realizing what just happened. No one else in the room seemed to realize how destructive that tackle really was. Thomas shakily nodded at something Washington said. Slowly, he tore his eyes away from Alexander and Madison led him out of the room.
One by one the cabinet members left the office room. Washington gave him one more disapproving scowl and then left him alone in an empty, grey confrence hall.
Alex's knees gave out and he caught himself on the table. He stared out at the dark door that Thomas left out of. His nerves were shot; his mind racing; his lungs not filling with enough air. Jesus Christ, this couldn't be right.
The room around him felt so small and … grey.
He'd never felt that way before.
Tell me what you think!