Different Colors (We Carry Each Other)
This is my (late, sorry!) Christmas present to @bellamyblakeprotectionsquad2k16 <3333
Black and white soulmate AU
Being an artist was much narrower of a profession when you only saw black and white.
Clarke had tried painting in color a couple of times, making sure she had Raven or Lincoln or someone else who had already met their soulmate with her, but she couldn’t make sense of it—the idea of color. How to mix them, or make them pop, or which ones went together. Even with the grayscale of her vision, she struggled to wrap her brain around it, so she quickly gave up and went back to her pencils and charcoal.
She didn’t have a real reason to be eager to meet her soulmate, outside of that; she could live her life without impairment, eating and working and dating without worry of commitment. Still, though, there was that curiosity, that intrigue, that…wanting, to know who the other half of her was, the person she would die to protect.
When Clarke turned eighteen and Abby insisted she needed to celebrate, despite Clarke’s general desire to just eat ice cream and cry about how she had to be an adult now, she invited as many people as possible for the express reasons of a, getting her mother off her back, and b, seeing a lot of people without having to interact much with them. She said they could bring friends she didn’t know, either, just in case one of them was her soulmate. Not, of course, that she had any interest in soulmates now that she was eighteen and out of the house and eligible for marriage.
She greeted everyone at the door as they came in, and boy, were there a lot of them; a hundred people must’ve come through before she gave up and slipped to a back area. Half of them she didn’t know, and half of those people she didn’t want to know. Her old friend Lincoln Moon hadn’t shown up, either, which was disappointing; he claimed he was bringing his girlfriend Octavia and her ‘one-of-a-kind’ brother. She had been eager to either make friends with him or punch him in the jaw, depending on what one-of-a-kind meant.
An hour into the party, after a few long, unwanted conversations and a narrow escape from some guy she would have never invited on her own, Clarke went to the front of the house again to see if anyone knew had shown up; there were always those few stragglers who liked to show up excessively late and call it fashionable. It was extremely crowded, even worse than before, and her small size meant she had to shove and push to get there, so she was starting to regret the choice until she heard a familiar voice call, “Hey, Clarke!”
She turned towards the sound and saw a large, tattooed man with a bald head and a neatly pressed suit. “Lincoln!” she said, sighing in relief. “I was worried you weren’t going to make it.”
“No, I just had a little trouble getting this one out the door,” he laughed, gesturing to a smaller, dark-haired girl in ragged yet fashionable clothes.
“Octavia, right?” Clarke asked, sticking out a hand.
“Yep, that’s me,” Octavia said before promptly shoving Clarke’s hand aside and pulling her into a tight hug. It took Clarke a second to respond out of surprise, and by then Octavia was already pulling away to look her over. “You’re even prettier than Lincoln claimed, though he was probably downgrading you so I wouldn’t get nervous,” she mused. “Such a nice hair color.”
“Thanks, I’m assuming, though I can’t see it,” Clarke said, squirming a little under Octavia’s eager scrutiny.
“Oh! I forgot, you haven’t met your soulmate. Well then Bell will love you, he hasn’t met his yet either and I think he’s going mad surrounded by all these people who are.” Octavia stepped back and looked around the mass of people, frowning. “He was supposed to stay with us, but he always wanders; can’t sit still. Bell! Bellamy!”
“Coming, little sister,” called back a low, rumbly voice from just a few feet behind Clarke. “What do you need?”
“I wanted you to meet Clarke Griffin. She’s the birthday girl,” Octavia said, gesturing.
Clarke turned and met Bellamy’s eyes, simply nodding in greeting so she could look him over for a moment. He was handsome, and as he shook her hand and said hello, he smiled in a cutely crooked way, and—and then. She dropped his hand in shock just as he did the same, both of them staring at each other in agape silence as, little by little, their grayscale figures were filled in with color.