Lucy's eyes narrowed at the thick paper, her gaze tracing across every word three or four times. Once she'd read each sentence several times in her mind, she'd whisper it out loud, as if that somehow made the words register further in her brain.

It had taken her a minute to convince herself she should read the damn letter. She'd wrestled with the idea of chucking it in the trash, not giving it a glance; she'd wanted to pretend she didn't care about her father, didn't care about anything he had to say. But the more she glared at the parchment, the more she realized how much she did care. It hurt her and it stung right down to her very core, but she loved her father.

So, she read it. She pulled the satin string off of the note, rolling it out slowly. She'd looked at Natsu, eyes big and unsure; he'd given her a little nod, encouraging her.

She'd half expected it to be another request to return to the estate. She'd figured it would be her father explaining himself, detailing why his proposition was the best idea. But she was wrong. Her father had surprised her.

Lucy read the letter out loud, voice trembling.

Dear Lucy,

I met your mother when I was eighteen. We weren't supposed to meet—we were from two completely opposite worlds, worlds that aren't supposed to cross paths.

I was from a long line of wealthy businessmen, a family line that was well-respected throughout the country. Historically, we were nobles; as government emerged and royal ties faded, my family took advantage of their respected position and created a business. This business has continued down throughout the family, and it is the business that I run today.

Ever since I was a child, my father groomed me to take over the family business. I'd been taught to hold my head high, to understand my worth, to convey myself with dignity and poise. As I grew up, I was completely cushioned from any struggles that normal people faced. I didn't worry about money, about finding a meal, about finding a job. Everything was given to me on a silver platter. Safe to say, by the time I'd turned eighteen, I was a real prick.

My father had sent me out on a task—it was his first real test to see if I was worthy of having a place in the family business. I was to go to town, have a meeting with some potential investors, and try to sway them to channel some funds into the business.

I'd walked to town, not phased at all by the task ahead of me. I'd been groomed for this since I was a little boy—I knew everything I had to know, had the charisma to charm the investors. I'd figured it was a guaranteed win for me.

I'd been daydreaming as I made my way through the city streets, thinking about when I would receive the family business and become the heir to the family estate. I must not have been watching where I was going—I bumped into a girl, making her drop her basket of washed clothes onto the dirty street.

I tried to apologize, but didn't really get the chance. The girl turned around and started screaming at me. There was no hesitation at all—she just began berating me. She called me an uppity snob, a no-good asshole with no consideration for others. And I would've apologized, offered her a bit of money to make up for it—but I couldn't. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move.

This girl kept screaming at me, yelling at my carelessness, but I just stared at her. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my entire life. The second I looked into her eyes, it was like my entire world had shifted, like gravity was different and now she was the centre of my universe. Everything around me changed, bursting into color—and it made sense, like it was a missing puzzle piece that I'd finally put into place. I'd never met this girl before, but it had very suddenly dawned on me that she was what I had been missing all along.

I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come out—I was completely caught off guard by my sudden realization. The girl finally quit yelling; she glared at me, called me an idiot, gathered her laundry from the street, and left.

It took me fifteen minutes to be able to think clearly enough to take a step. I didn't know where she'd gone or who she was, but I knew I had to find her again. Unfortunately, the meeting with the investors was in five minutes—I knew if I didn't go to the meeting, my father would give me an unbearable punishment. So, I ran to the meeting, my mind far too focused on the girl to even give a single thought towards investments and stocks and business.

I had the worst meeting of my life. I could hardly speak. I'd forgotten everything my father had ever taught me. My mind was on the girl. She was all that my brain could focus on. The investors rejected my request on the spot—apparently, I hadn't won them over like I'd initially expected.

I didn't care. After the meeting, I wandered around the city for hours, looking for the girl. I knocked on people's doors, asked random people on the street, and no one seemed to pay any attention to me. After all, these were a lower class of people, and to them, I was a snobby rich child that had been shielded from every struggle they'd ever faced. They laughed in my face as they ignored my questions. But I didn't give up.

I found her, hours later, at the local pub. I was exhausted and I was starving and I figured I'd get a meal in before I headed back to the estate to face the wrath of my father. I'd gone into the pub, trying to ignore the stares of the locals. Things started to get a bit rowdier once I entered the pub; the locals weren't pleased that an upperclass brat had dared to enter their place. I tried to mind my own business, not bother anyone, but I was beginning to hear murmurs of threats and whispers of a fight.

Before I knew it, someone had sat down beside me at the bar. To my shock, it was the girl from before. Just being in the same vicinity as her seemed to put me at ease. The colors were brighter when she was around.

She told me not to get too excited, she wasn't sitting with me because she wanted to—she was only doing so to protect me from the drunk locals that vehemently wanted me out of their bar. She was well liked and respected in her community, and once she sat beside me and chatted with me, the locals seemed to back off slightly.

One thing lead to another, and we began to chat. My apologies for bumping her earlier lead into further conversation. I ended up sitting there all night with the girl, and she told me stories about her life in the city and her family and where she came from.

She was your mother, Lucy.

A long time ago, your mother's family was well respected, just like mine. In fact, your mother's family was probably even higher class than mine ever was; your mother's family was filled with powerful mages that the royals often hired to deal with issues with magic across the country. One of these issues, however, lead to the family's downfall. Although details are scarce—the royal family made all of the missions top secret and confidential—this last mission involved an incredibly strong threat to the nation. However, once the royal family's power crumbled and a political body took over power of the country—the hierarchy faded to a democracy—all close allies of the royal family were shamed. Your mother's family was treated terribly, and they fell from a powerful high class family of mages to a low class group scrounging for food and struggling to make ends meet during the financial depression.

Of course, this all happened long before your mother was even born. Your mom had never lived a life of luxury; she'd grown up working hard to keep her head above the water, to stay alive.

We weren't meant to meet, me and her. I was wealthy and headed for the family business; she was poor and working every odd job she could find just to keep a roof over her head, like most low class families were.

We fell in love quickly. She was so funny and charming and smart—it was easy to understand why she was my soul mate. She set my world on fire with color. I'm not exactly sure what she found so appealing about me—I was a snob and I was spoiled and I had no understanding of the real world—but fell for me just as hard.

She'd told me that I didn't make her see color, but something deep in her soul knew that I was the right one for her.

My family never approved of the relationship, my father in particular. He thought I was disrespecting the business by associating myself with Layla. He'd beat me and shout at me. But I always chose her. When my father gave me a choice—the business or Layla—I chose her. My father said I would never see another penny from the business, from my family.

I didn't care. I was happy. I was in love. My father…he'd never found his soul mate. He'd never seen color. He didn't understand, and I knew I wouldn't be able to convince him.

Layla and I moved in together, on the outskirts of town. I worked at the quarry, and she worked oddjobs throughout the city whenever she could. We made things work. It was hard for me—I'd never worked physical labour before, I'd never struggled with not having enough money for rent and food before—but I made it through. The townspeople began to like me. This is the point in my life where I learned my work ethic—hard work wasn't easy, but it was worth it.

A few years had passed, and I'd finally saved up enough money to buy a ring. I'd known since the second I'd met her that Layla would be my wife. When I proposed, she said yes so loudly I'd thought my eardrum had ruptured. But it didn't matter—nothing did. Because I was with my soulmate, my Layla, and everything was perfect.

I visited the estate and told my father that we were getting married. He was ill—years of smoking and drinking had finally begun to affect him—but he seemed so happy to see me. His last wife had passed away over a year before, and he'd been so lonely. None of my brothers had ever come back to visit him. He insisted on paying for the wedding—it was his way of thanking me for returning to see him.

Our wedding day was the happiest day of my life—that is, until you were born, Lucy. I finally married the woman I loved, and my heart had never felt more full. Your mother cried when we said our vows—she was always such a softie—and her eyes stole my breath away. I'd never seen such happiness radiating from someone's eyes before. It was the look of true love.

My father passed away not long after our wedding. In his will, he'd given me the entire family business. Despite telling me I'd never receive another penny from him or the business, my father seemed to have softened in his old age; loneliness had overwhelmed him before he'd passed.

In his honor, I carried on the business. It was a different lifestyle than Layla and I were used to, but we made it work. We moved into the family estate. Suddenly, we had maids and a chef and a butler and staff to do our bidding. It was a little strange at first, but I slipped back into my old lifestyle fairly well. Layla never seemed to phase into it—she would much rather befriend the staff than give them orders.

We were happy there, living a life of luxury. We made sure our riches were spread amongst ourselves and our friends, back in town. We rebuilt homes for the poor in the city, donated thousands upon thousands to the foodbanks every year. We would buy hundreds of presents for the low class townspeople and give them gifts on Christmas. We wanted to be sure that our wealth wasn't just for us—it was for the people.

When you were born, Lucy, our entire world changed again. I didn't think it was possible to feel such overwhelming love for two people. The sight of you made my heart burst.

When Layla held you for the first time, her eyes lit up just like they had on our wedding day. She whispered to me, telling me that she could see colors, that she could see them the second she looked at you. I cried that night, holding the both of you, because I was so unbearably happy.

Your mother became ill when you were six. She tried to hide it, tried to act like she was fine because she didn't want you to know anything was wrong. She'd take you for walks to your special spot; when she came back she would nearly collapse out of exhaustion. I demanded she see a doctor—at first, she refused. But, as she became weaker and weaker, she agreed.

It was a magical deficiency disease. She'd had it from birth, a genetic defect that could randomly arise and begin showing symptoms. Her magic power was depleting rapidly. There were things we could do to improve her state, but there was no cure. Once she ran out of magic power completely, she would pass away.

My entire world seemed to crumble apart. Seeing her sick made my entire world go bleak, as if the colors had lost all of their strength. Even sunsets were lacking, now; it was like the radiance of the world was bleeding away, just as Layla's strength was.

She held on longer than the doctor's had thought. She was strong. But her body began to fail, after a couple years, and there was nothing that could be done.

You caught on, Lucy. You were just as smart as your mother was. You knew she was sick before I even had the chance to tell you about it. I sat you down, ready to give you an important talk, because Layla was fading rather quickly and couldn't bear to stand for too long anymore. But you already knew. You asked me what was wrong with mommy, why she didn't want to go to the secret spot anymore. You asked if mommy would get better.

And it broke my hear to tell you that she wouldn't.

Her body gave up before her mind did. She couldn't walk, and then she couldn't get out of bed. After a while, she couldn't sit up in bed anymore. I'd put the business totally on pause, dedicating all of my time to Layla. I didn't want her to ever be alone, not even for a second.

She started to lose her memories, her entire life force being sapped away by the disease. But she never forgot you, Lucy. Never.

The day she died, she lost her eyesight. She told me she couldn't see anymore, couldn't see out the window, but that the colors were dancing. Even without her eyes, her heart had the ability to see the colors you had gifted her with.

I watched as the life slipped out of her body, as my beautiful Layla passed away. I watched as you held her hand, as you squeezed her hand as she left. And I felt my heart break when every color melted away, washing away like leftover paint, leaving behind only bleak tones of grey and black and white.

Layla had given me so much, and I'm forever thankful that I bumped into her that day so long ago. She'd brightened my life and she'd showed me how to care for others and she gave me everything. She taught me how to enjoy the world.

But after she passed, after my colors faded, I lost it somewhere. Everything she had taught me…I stuffed it far away, too afraid to touch it in fear that it would remind me of her. I stopped caring about things. I stopped enjoying life. I pushed you away.

I'm sorry for how I've treated you all of these years, my girl. You were the one bit of sunshine left in my life and I hid you away so I could sit in the darkness. I've hurt you, and I'm so sorry. I should never have treated you the way I have.

It's taken me too long to figure out how horrible I've been. I'm sorry for neglecting you, for leaving you behind, for ignoring you for so long you decided to leave. I'm sorry for forcing my way back into your world, for interrupting your happiness, for demanding you to return to the estate, for even considering arranging a marriage for you.

The second I told you about that, about the marriage, it was like everything around me came to a screeching halt. Your eyes…they look so similar to Layla's, they always have. So seeing that much hurt in them, that much pain and sadness…it killed me.

This letter is a new beginning. I won't be selfish anymore. This is the last time you will hear from me—I won't interrupt your happiness anymore. I'm glad you've found your place in the world. I'm glad that you've found some true friends.

And I'm so glad that you've found true love—I don't need to see color to know that look in your eyes. I wish we were on good terms so that I could hear you talk about your soulmate, whoever that may be.

I know you don't owe me anything, but please—do me a huge favor. Your soulmate…don't let the moments with him slip away unappreciated. Don't run away from love, don't be afraid to open yourself up. Cherish every second with him. Love him with your arms wide open. Because one day, when you lose him, your colors will fade and your memories will be the only thing you've got left. Hold on to them and don't let them go.

I love you, Lucy. I always have and I always will. I'm sorry for everything.

Goodbye.

Love,

Dad

Lucy blinked, tears trailing down her cheeks as she set the paper down. She forced herself to take deep, calm breaths as her mind ran over everything she'd just read. Every word her father had just written her seemed heartfelt, genuine; there was no hesitation about believing him in her mind.

Her father loved her. That was all she'd needed to know.

Lucy looked up, her eyes locking on to Natsu, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Maybe it was the happiness of finally understanding why her father behaved the way he had, or maybe it was the shock of her father somehow knowing Lucy had the ability to see colors, but when she looked at Natsu, everything seemed a little bit brighter. Colors were richer.

Maybe her father was right. Maybe she couldn't run away anymore. She couldn't hide from herself, hide from her feelings, hide the fact that deep inside of her soul, she knew exactly why she'd gained the ability to see colors.

That first morning she'd first caught a glimpse of a color…it was the night after she'd met Natsu. She'd been shocked and confused. She'd done research, tried to understand why her color vision wasn't exploding into view like everyone else's. But now, it all made perfect sense.

She was afraid to find love. She feared loving someone and being hurt, just like what had happened with her father all of these years. So, subconsciously, she'd hesitated. She was confused and curious and interested, but she wasn't all in when it came to true love. Because, after all, true love didn't guarantee success—look at Juvia and Gray, and Erza and Jellal. Look at her father. You could experience true love and be broken by it.

But her father was right. You couldn't give in to the fear. You couldn't hide from love forever. She had to open her arms and embrace love, no hesitation, no restrictions.

All those days of confusion when another color was added to her vision, they all began to make sense—love was slowly breaking down her walls, slowly opening her up. But this was the last step, the opening of the flood gates. She had to give herself over completely.

And looking at Natsu, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping off of her chin, Lucy finally did. She caved in to love, letting go of every fear that had plagued her thus far.

To Lucy's surprise, the colors surrounding her grew a million times more vibrant. It was almost as if she'd been looking at the colors through sunglasses the entire time; now, she'd taken them off and everything was so rich and bright that her heart nearly stopped in her chest.

And even more surprisingly, Natsu's hair began to glitch out again, even more than usual. It was like when you turn an old TV onto the wrong channel—everything was blinking and twitching, glitching out. But suddenly…it stopped. There was no more flickering, no more confusion, no more strangeness.

Instantly, Lucy knew what she was looking at. The missing link in her technicolor vision, the one gap left in her world.

Pink. Natsu's hair was pink.