Genre: Angst, but a happy ending; Soulmate!AU where you lose color vision when you meet your soulmate
Pairing: Hoseok X Reader
Word Count: 3.3K
color is this?”
You glance over at the thing your mother is pointing at, and shake your head at it in disgust.
“Ew, no.” You say, tugging her away from the hideously colored, zesty orange scarf, “That is gonna look absolutely terrible on you—don’t buy it.”
“Relax.” Your mother rolls her eyes, still letting you guide her to the… safer section of the store, “It’s not like your Dad’s going to mind, sweetheart.”
“Yes, but,” You shrug defeatedly, “That’s because Dad can’t see how hideous the color is. I still can.”
“I thank you for the sentiment, honey.”
The two of you share a private grin, before your mother hums delicately and busies herself looking through racks and racks of shirts, feeling the material absently. You only watch, noting to yourself sadly how she frowns confusedly at certain shirts of the same design, but different colors. You sigh then, propelling yourself forward.
“Take this one.” You push the plum colored shirt back onto the rack, and press the maroon one into her hands, “It suits you better.”
“Oh, thank you sweetheart.” She says gratefully, smiling gently at you, “What on earth would I do without you?”
“I ask myself that every day.” You mutter to yourself as you watch her make for the changing rooms, “Indeed, what would you do?”
Sighing, you take out your phone, trying to preoccupy yourself with one of your apps so that you can pass the time away. No matter how much you play, though, you can’t get your mind off your mother’s predicament.
Why on earth would people actively look for their soulmates, if their vision turns grey the second they do? What on earth would possess them, for them to do that? It doesn’t…it just doesn’t make sense.
Your mother comes back, by then, clothes bundled up in the shopping bag. You take it from her and, sighing at the ugly orange scarf at the bottom of the pile, make your way to the cash counter with her so that you can pay.
“Good morning Ma’am!”
You trace the countertop idly as your mom exchanges pleasantries with some guy behind the computer. You don’t look up, not until your mom nudges at you to hand her wallet over. Fishing it out, you present it to her, before lazily trailing your eyes upward, locking on surprised cocoa brown ones, before everything turns grey.