Chapter Text
The very first time I remember you, you are blond, and you don't love me back.
He watches her, staring at the long braid of silver hair trailing down nearly to the floor instead of watching her adoring gaze directed at the king.
"Leave us alone," he instructs, and he almost snarls, because the Moon Princess is his responsibility, he was the one to stay with her when no one else did, but then she looks at him, violet eyes uncannily knowing, and he finds himself unable to speak.
"You did well," she says, extracting herself from his embrace. "Someone, bring me scissors." The maid at the door snaps to attention and runs off. He stares back silently. "You have been my most faithful companion, even though it was me who imprisoned you." It was always voluntary, they both know, but in the presence of the king some things are best left unsaid. "Shin'ya. Stand."
He does, rising from the half kneeling position. She takes her sword and taps his shoulder with the blade. "No longer an Assassin, but my friend and ally."
The maid returns with the scissors on a salver. She takes it and before anyone can object, cuts off the end of her braid and fashions it into a bracelet, pulling the ribbon into her signature flower bow.
"There," she says, holding it out to him, crimson ribbon and all. "It will help you get back home." And it will, he knows - the Crimson Lotus seal of the Princess is revered in every province and allows free passage and food, as well as a title of the Knight.
He doesn't tell her what she knows -that he is finally leaving home. If she had wanted to, she could have stopped him.
When he steps out into the palace courtyard, the guards are still abuzz with excitement. One of them eyes the lock of hair around his wrist.
"She does have the most beautiful hair in all the land, doesn't she?" the guard remarks. "No wonder everyone loves her."
"Perhaps," he agrees. "Maybe if I had that hair everyone would love me instead."
The guard barks a laugh. "You're a funny guy. What's a Night Assassin with silver hair?"
What's a Night Assassin who's an Assassin no more?
He looks up and spots the Princess on the balcony, smiling at someone behind the pillars he'll never see. "As lonely as the moon?"
***
The next time you are brunette, and you do.
"And that's why I can't stand people who diss Tuxedo Mask," she finishes typing, and then flops down on the futon. Her cat watches her with beady eyes, and in this light it almost looks like he's grinning.
"Don't go all Kyubey on me now," she warns, and Midnight purrs, silver-white fur glistening as he jumps down from the windowsill and comes to sit by her. She sighs. "I can't even use that argument when you're as white as I am." It's lonely out here, especially with her parents gone for the weekend and Julian at school. Luna never seems lonely though. Maybe it's because she counts. That's comforting, she guesses. Mark always says she has the weirdest problems.
Thinking about Mark doesn't help. "Why can't I have normal white girl problems, like, you know, worrying about what I'm going to wear when Mark comes over?"
This time it's definitely a purr of displeasure, so she sits up, tucking dark hair behind her ear and lifts him onto her lap. "Now, now, you know I'll always love you best, even if you're one-upping me for potential candidates in fairness cream commercials. Sometimes I think it's some form of revenge."
The purr that ensues is either a contented yawn or "you're damn right it is," so for her sanity's sake, she assumes it is the latter, and closes the pop-up for cosplay wigs before pulling the laptop lid shut. "Think we have time for a nap?"
He's already asleep, so she yawns, stroking his fur, and feels her own eyes slide shut, seeing rainbow colors behind her eyelids. Maybe blue hair would do for Robin, if she weren't sticking to the original.
Maybe it would be silver.
***
After a while, I give up trying to guess if the color of your hair means anything
"It was blue yesterday, wasn't it?" Shinya looks down to see the cute underclassman from the art club frowning in his general direction. He probably can't see colors yet.
"Maybe," he replies offhandedly. "What is it today?"
Cute Underclassman swallows. "White. But you're up in the apple blossom tree, so I'm not sure."
He grins. Maybe he was off the mark. "So who is it that you haven't asked out yet, and why?"
To his surprise, the boy looks up, challenge clear in violet eyes. "Maybe I would, if he'd stop hiding in trees when I tried to ask him out."
He'll never admit it, but for one second his breath catches, strange snippets of memories that never happened filtering through his brain. "You've got nerve, asking out your upperclassman."
"Not against his will," the boy points out, looking away, and something in his heart clenches. He doesn't know why he slides off the tree, but he does, and the flash of color he sees again when the boy looks at him with widened eyes is worth it.
"Do the colors mean something?" he asks, when he casually slides a hand into his. Shinya smiles. "Does it matter?"
***
"It's just a painting, Guren," she points out when he tries to hang it over the mantle. "It's not even a famous one - we have apple blossoms in the yard if anyone wants to look at them."
But he doesn't want to look at the apple blossoms in the yard, or in the trees painted in the picture, as much as he doesn't want to think about his failing marriage. He wants to study the soft (how does he know, like he could reach out and touch it?), wispy white hair and blue, blue eyes of the person concealed in the nearest tree.
He doesn't know how to explain that the blue eyes and soft pink lips in the painting among the stark black and white of the rest of the canvas are the first colors he's seen in years without hurting his eyes, and that when everything else starts turning into shades of gray and Mahiru starts talking about color specialists, they're still the only colors he sees.
He doesn't know how to tell her he's not going to get better, because the person in the portrait doesn't exist.
because even when you don't exist, I'm always in love with you.
***