His eyes are grey. Of course they are.
Alina sighed, passed a hand through her hair - brown, not the dull grey she grow up thinking it was - and looked at the Darkling. He was peacefully asleep, tangled into black sheets, and in the low light, her world was grey again. She missed it.
The world was grey, until it wasn't: until you and your soulmate looked into each other's eyes. The world was grey, until it wasn't: the only color one could see was the color of their soulmate.
Alina, who'd always seen the world in grey, passed through life as if a ghost - if everything was grey, it simply meant your soulmate was dead. She'd thought her soulmate had died before she could remember, but through all the memories she had and did not have, everything had always been shades of grey: white, light grey, grey, dark grey, black. No more, no less.
Grey had never been an eye color to her, not when her entire world colored that way. The possibility had never crossed her mind, not until she looked into his damned grey eyes, and the world had blossomed into color - only to be plunged into darkness a moment later, his lips on hers, and her world had exploded in light.
Now, it didn't matter. She produced light from her hands, staring at it. Were she still seeing in grey or not, the room would always be in shades of dark. Alina liked that: it was consistent and coherent - a world in color, when compared to what was most of her life, was overwhelming. Too many colors, her eyes still unused to it, and Alina had headaches frequently. She had no idea how people coped, but Alina guessed most people didn't have to see so many new colors every day. Maybe. Who knew?
She turned back to him, turned off the lights, and laid down with him again. His skin felt warm, and sometimes, in the little space created between the two, things were simply grey.
