Fic: Mosaic 4/? - Colorblind
A/N: Okay, so I honestly intended this to be a happy fic, I swear. It’s not as, erm, unhappy as some of the others, but still, not exactly the fluff I meant to write. (I’ll get to that eventually, but I happen to know that the next one will not be it.) Anyways, a part of me really likes this one, and a part of me really doesn’t because I’m not entirely certain it’s coherent to anyone but me, so let me know what you think. Ta.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Colorblind
Neal’s first impression of Peter was that he was colorblind.
That was the only way to explain the tie.
Neal’s always had an almost morbid fascination with the idea of being colorblind. He wonders, sometimes, what it must be like, but he can’t imagine it. His whole world is in color.
It’s in the blues of Kate’s eyes and the soft pink of her lips. The yellow of Van Gogh’s sunflowers and the rich brown of hot chocolate. It’s the green of the park and the Cheeto-orange of the couch in Mozzie’s storage unit.
Sometimes the colors in Neal’s world aren’t always good.
Sometimes his world is in the delicate purple of bruises and the wet red of blood, but those are usually far enough away now that they can mean fizzy purple grape soda and a red cashmere scarf too, and not just hurt.
Eventually, Neal learns that Peter’s not actually colorblind. (As for the tie, apparently he just has really really awful taste in just about everything but coffee and wives.) Peter can see color. Just not like Neal.
For Peter, stealing a Monet isn’t joyous bright blue, and forging a Degas isn’t proud forest green. They’re black.
And for Peter, chasing Neal isn’t exhilarating gold-flecked yellow, and catching him isn’t a sad pale purple. It’s white.
He considers, briefly, feeling sorry for Peter, for not living such beautiful colors, but then he sends him to prison and he changes his mind.
In prison, everything’s gray, gray, gray, with specks of jumpsuit-orange.
Neal stops wondering what it’s like to be colorblind.
A/N- Okay, I had to mention. I had a good friend in high school who was colorblind. And I absolutely adored him if for no other reason than what he wanted to be when he grew up was a member of the bomb squad. He put up with four years of “pull the blue wire!” jokes, and we had to love him for it. ;)