The Colors That Define Me

The young man, in his teenage years to be exact, drifted his paintbrush against the canvas. Every stroke had been in a different color, starting from violet, and up the color spectrum. The first stroke, red, was calm and peaceful, landing evenly across the blank space. Orange had been slightly off target; messy and disoriented. Yellow, green, and blue were rough splashes. By the time indigo had settled like a scar, violet had made it's way across the center of the artwork.
To his eyes, every color had been unnecessary. Except for violet, which was the most important part. Why did anything else have to exist if the only thing he needed was that one color? The red had been absolutely useless. The color within itself had wavelengths too long to fit in perfectly with the spectrum. It was a color, his second favorite, and he knew it was different.
He wished his heart was that color.
His teal eyes searched his location, a white room of tile and stone. White was a mixture of every single color, and was the color of light. We have sight because of such a wonderful color. It created sight. Then again, white was a just a sample of every color combined to create such a beauty.
Everyone wishes their heart was that color. Even the young man.
The canvas had seemed bigger than before, the teenager smiled at the thought of more space. More space to let his colors speak. He believed colors had personalities, and they spoke accordingly.
Thoughts of his life had crossed his mind. He struggled to push them away, splashing his paintbrush through his own "color", black. Black isn't exactly a color, it was an absence of color. Black had always seemed so dark, so unwanted, and why? The reason lied in it's qualities.
It was different.
And, sad enough, the young man's heart was the color of coal. The color of a midnight sky. He was told that the color itself had meant he had certain interests, and certain dislikes. Certain fears.
What they told him was wrong. They told him if his heart was black then he would crash parties, ricochet bullets, ride in and out of town without a care in the world. The young man didn't do that.
He rarely attended parties, and he only attended them if a close friend or family member invited him, or more likely, he was asked to play his violin. Instead of running from the bullets of a gun, he practiced his skills with people. Lastly, his reputation was his most valuable possession. The young man had never done serious crimes in his lifetime.
What really bothered him was the fact that everyone agreed on black as his color. There was no argument with this, they all seemed to vote unanimously. People were strange like this.
The man readied his brush to paint on the canvas. As he started, he noticed something missing. Every stroke had disappeared. Baffled, he splashed his brush through the black. He sighed and—
"Gerard, wake up!" the teen heard a youthful voice call to him. Black hair concealed his eyes, and he pushed them away to find his colleague lifting his bag across his shoulder. "What?"
"You slept through Chorus again, didn't you?" he laughed. Gerard frowned slightly. "Guess so."
He lifted himself from his desk, stretching before heading straight to his locker. His locker mate had smiled as he approached her. The girl had long brown hair, with golden eyes that seemed to glow once you stared at them long enough. He knew her very well; coincidentally, the two had been locker and cubby buddies since the third grade. "Will there ever be a day you beat me to the lockers?" she laughed.
Gerard shook his head. " 'fraid not. I've been dozing off in class again, Willow."
Willow placed a light hand on his shoulder. " 'ts alright. I like being the first one here anyways."
The two began to walk outside the school, each searching for a different bus. In the meantime, they began to talk. "I keep having this dream, it's crazy."
She tilted her head to the side. "How so?"
"Willow," Jason began slowly. "What color am I?"
Willow rolled her eyes. " They told you your color, didn't they?"
He stopped in his tracks and turned his body to face her completely. The girl gave in with a reckless smile. "Didn't they?"
"Yeah, but I want to know...what is your color?"
Willow did not respond. The two eventually arrived to a point where each person had to turn in a different direction. Gerard waved his hand to dismiss her.
Willow's smile had altered to a hopeful grin. It was as if she had been longing to say something for a long time now. "I'm colorblind. It's about time you learn to be that way too."

Notes