Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Yellow
The sun shined intensely amidst the clouds, a blazing celestial sphere that blessed the sky with its presence. Resplendent and dazzling, as well as undeniably formidable, a marvelous panoramic spectacle, imperceptible to many impotent eyes. Yellow. The amber hue enveloping the neighborhood of Hyperion Heights, population of five thousand, an inconsequential district found in the city of Seattle. Solar rays showered across the stratosphere, raining down over a shabby, little restaurant.
It was a quaint establishment by the side of the main avenue, stuck in between a small bookshop and large hardware store. The neon yellow and blue sign proclaimed the name of the facility, Rollin' Bayou, flashing brightly for motorists to see. The beige painting on the walls had been slightly chipped at some borders, in dire need of a fresh coat. The window panels appeared clean enough, but a few smudges were impossible to remove, similar to how some deeply inflicted scars never fully heal.
Although the exterior design couldn't be any more provincial, it suited the meager restaurant. The interior was well-furnished, checkered linoleum floor, alternating tones of grey. The scrumptious aroma of bacon and eggs, mixed together into a unique fragrance that wafted through the atmosphere, the smell lingered across the air. Warm and comfortable, the diner provided its customers with a quiet place, reserved for their personal thoughts.
The owner of the pleasant diner was Tiana Maldonia, a stunning raven-haired woman. Her husband, Naveen, felt utterly content with serving as her head waiter. Happily, ever after. Deeply in love, both inconceivably attractive, their life resembled a modern-day fairytale, if the fable had resumed beyond the final page, after reality set in and a lot of bills must be paid.
Unruly curls, yellow tresses cascaded down to a pair of slouching shoulders, a young woman sat alone at the outdoor seating area. Clad in a red flannel shirt, far too large, the hemline reaching to the thighs, where both her legs had been crossed. With long, black leggings, ripped at the knees. Situated on a wooden bench, a sketchbook laid over the table's surface, a case of multicolored pencils was cradled against the juncture of the blonde's folded appendages.
Alice Jones, a golden-haired girl with a fair complexion. Taupe freckles made a cute trail along her jawline, birthmark constellations across a landscape of smooth skin. She often wore a smile, exposing a set of iridescent white teeth. Her exquisite azure irises glimmered, drenched in a fascinating hue of cerulean. Not that the young woman could actually perceive any of this, the color spectrum evaded her sight.
Colors, a characteristic of human visual discernment, described by using names such as yellow, orange, red, violet, indigo, blue, and green. A physical attribute, derived from the stimulation of cone cells in the eye. Electromagnetic radiation. Reflected wavelength. Emission absorption. These phrases tried to materialize a concept that was too complex, inexplicable to those who could not experience the phenomenon for themselves.
Most people were doomed to see life through a palette of greys. Trichromaticism was a privilege only bestowed onto individuals who had unlocked the ability, a process known as accentuation. A sophisticated term, the word simply referred to the romantic transaction of kissing an anointed person and receiving the gift of prismatic vision. As such would be the case with any unexplained occurrence, the anomaly could be studied from two polarizing perspectives.
Sentimental enthusiasts claim that people who granted each other the ability to see colors, would be known as soulmates. Optometrists theorize that the reaction was random, a surge of pheromones, activating the optic nerves located inside the human retinas. A relatively logical hypothesis, but it did not explain how only one person possessed the power to activate the release of those alleged chemical substances. Science or faith, either way, every individual had a single predestined partner, able expand their visual capacity, a procedure aptly called, becoming accentuated.
For the most part, Alice enjoyed the idea of soulmates, that somewhere in the world, one person would feel compelled to love her unconditionally. Home. The little girl buried inside of Alice's heart, under layers of disappointment and sorrow, the pitiful orphan who had never been adopted by a dotting family or coddled as a child, she urgently longed to be accentuated, because living without the hope of finding love was hardly an existence at all.
Alice ran a hand through her scruffy hair, looking at a pudgy bird that had been perching on top of a lamp post. Fingers gripping a pencil, an assortment of jewelry hung from her wrists, emitting a jingling noise with each stroke that Alice made across the paper. An intricate ring adorned her thumb, the effigy of a rose woven around a crucifix was plastered over the metallic band. It clinked against the table, a rhythmic tapping sound.
Despite Alice's daltonism, she aspired to become an artist. People might consider the idea to be absurd, but Alice believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. She was an advocate, supporting the unattainable causes. Accentuation, to a young woman whose dreams as a painting virtuoso were unfeasible, would be a blessing, and to the small child who yearned for love, might seem like a miracle.
A recently hired employee, waiting for the diner to open. She had moved to the United States of America from some faraway distant land, commonly known as England. Alice enjoyed pretending that she was a mysterious traveler, but in actuality, the blonde wanted to escape. Some prisons didn't consist of four unyielding walls, not at all, the enclosed spaces imposed by a person's own inhibitions were the most limiting.
A different country offered Alice a fresh, clean slate. She abandoned the hindering influence of her past. Alice was determined to find a new setting, a place where no one knew that she had been a foster child, or about her lack of parents. Or about her mental affliction. Aggrieved by the weight a perplexing condition, Alice always felt like an outcast. Her mind wandered, composing unusual thoughts. Atypical neurological wiring, Alice reassured herself. Not a serious mental illness, she denied vehemently. Alice desperately just wanted to belong.
Gathering the pitiful amount of money that she had, Alice left England, the small town of Whitby, and headed to the state of Washington. Enough funds to rent a mangy apartment at the outskirts of Hyperion Heights, attaining a decent job to generate income, Alice began her life's next great chapter, feeling as though she was at the brink of a monumental turning point.
A flick of an arm, cuff of the sleeve slid down, and Alice caught a glimpse of her wristwatch. Two minutes until the diner opened. More than enough time. Alice collected all the pencils, tossing them inside her backpack. She pulled out a cobalt shirt, slipping it over her flannel blouse, the yellow cursive writing read 'Rollin' Bayou' under the drawing of a firefly, the diner's distinct logo. The cheap article of clothing functioned as a mangy type of uniform. Tiana and Naveen could barely afford to hire Alice, let alone provide a package of employee benefits. Pulling at the hemline of the garment, the blonde surveyed her own presentation, stretching out the fabric.
"That looks cute." A blithe voice chirped, beckoning Alice to shift her gaze toward the source.
Towering before Alice, a beautiful young woman, honey-colored tendrils of wavy locks fluttered against the wind, loose and wild. She stood in front of Alice, arms folded, hips slanted to the side. Her sparkling irises were a shade of grey that Alice couldn't identified as emerald. A lopsided smile, displaying two adorable dimples, under a perfect set of cheekbones, forming an enthralling composition.
Rendered completely speechless, Alice's breath hitched, she stared upon the playful intruder with an awestruck expression. Alice's eyes appraised the other girl's appearance, from head to toe. A fitted blazer over a satin blouse, tight pants that were snug around the ankles, wearing a pair of black high-heeled shoes, augmenting the young woman's already tall stature. Alice assumed that she was in the presence of either a professional fashion model or an ethereal goddess, there could be no other acceptable explanation.
"O-Oh. Yeah, it's my uniform. For here. The place I work at. Which is this diner." Alice fumbled with her words, a verbal catastrophe.
The young woman didn't seem fazed by Alice's stammered response, she was too busy inspecting the blonde's sketchbook. Her emerald irises glittered with admiration, reviewing the meticulously drafted illustration of a bird. Alice watched as the foreign fingertips skimmed across the image. Abruptly, as if a disconcerting thought had interjected, the girl's face hardened, the bridge of her nose scrunching up.
"Can you see in color?" The intrusive question was uttered softly, and Alice could have sworn that she heard a tinge of disappointment.
"No, not at all." Alice shook her head, "I was just drawing with random colors, trying to match the shade of grey that I can see. Hoping for the best, you know?"
Perhaps Alice had been imagining things, but the young woman's facial features may have started to relax after hearing her answers. Alice dispelled the meddling thought, refusing to allow fantasies to distract her. Such a gorgeous girl was clearly out of Alice's league.
"Robin." The green-eyed girl smiled charmingly, hooking both thumbs through the straps of her pants.
"No, I think that it was more of a sparrow, maybe a canary." Alice tilted her head to the side, analyzing the drawing, "Or just one of those generic brown birds that—"
"No, no, no. I meant—" A chuckle spilled from out of the young woman's lips, and Alice found herself already addicted to the sound, "My name is Robin Mills."
The beautiful girl, Robin Mills, smiled at Alice, thoroughly entertained by the blonde's blundering antics. The young woman tapped a hand to her own chest when she said 'Robin' once again. Amused by the bewildered look on Alice's face, Robin comically emphasized the correlation between the name and herself.
"O-Oh." Alice blushed, a pink tint flushing across her cheeks, "Um, yeah. I'm Alice. I am also not a bird."
Articulate, eloquent. I am also not a bird. What a thought-provoking statement. Alice felt sure that she had made a fool of herself. Looking like an idiot before noon, a personal best. She needed to fix this mess and savage the conversation. Names, introductions, done and done. Alice couldn't remember the following step in a normal social interaction. Favorite color? More like, most desirable tone of grey.
For reasons unknown, Robin had interpreted the blonde's nervous mess of an introduction as an invitation to take a step closer. Alice's pulse quickened, heart racing against her breastbone. Robin raked one hand through a luscious mane of dark, yellow curls, conflicted by something, chewing on her lower lip.
Unnerved by Robin's sudden close proximity, Alice scrambled to regain her composure. She was a waitress, at this diner. Focus. Alice's arm reached to her back pocket, pulling out a notepad and a pen. The blonde audibly gulped. Breakfast specials. Blueberry pancakes. Bacon and fried eggs. Sugar-coated beignets. Belgium waffles with maple syrup.
"I was wondering if—"
"What would you like to order?" Alice accidentally interrupted whatever Robin was planning to say.
Green eyes flickering with an emotion that couldn't be identified, Robin seemed deflated. Her mouth twisted into a bemused grimace, at a loss for words. She sighed, flopping down onto the bench. Back leaning against the table's edge, Robin's arms were slouched across bended legs, over her thighs. She was facing Alice, glancing at the blonde while her minded debated a decision.
"I guess, uh..." Robin brought a hand up to her neck, rubbing apprehensively before shrugging in resignation, "Two sugar-coated beignets—"
"We have a three for two special?" Alice chimed in, "It comes with a free beverage. Coffee, or milk, and, um. Water."
Gazing up at the inept waitress, eyes squinting due to the bright sunshine, Robin looked absolutely adorable, enough to fluster Alice once more. Reciting the menu, morning beverages. Calm down, Alice. It's just the prettiest girl in the world, no reason to panic. Coffee. Milk. Orange juice. Apple juice. Lemon juice. Incorrect, normal people called it lemonade.
"Sure. Coffee is fine." Robin nodded, pupils straining against the intense luminosity of the daylight.
"Coming right up!" Alice grinned, bowing her head, and scampering off toward the diner.
Trudging along, an energetic skip in her gait, Alice beamed with pride. She strolled into the diner, gliding through the doors. A jingle ran out across the establishment, broadcasting the news of Alice's arrival. She leaned over the counter, ripping the sheet of paper from off her notepad, and slapping it on the linoleum surface. Three beignets, and one large coffee. Alice had successfully tended to the needs of her first customer. Robin. A young woman who was too beautiful to be real.
Scrutinizing the lovestruck look upon Alice's face, Tiana smirked knowingly, nodding her head. Alice Jones, summary of qualifications, the ability to become deeply infatuated with a customer at first sight. Tiana glided along the counter, retrieving the beignets, and pouring coffee into a paper cup. The raven-haired woman moved effortlessly around the kitchen, and within about two minutes, Robin's items were placed in front of an absentminded waitress.
"Alice, the order is ready." Tiana announced, "Alice? Alice!"
Elbow perched on the counter, palm wedged under her own chin, Alice was fully immersed within a daydream, staring at the clock hanging from the diner wall. Spellbounded, enchanted, captivated, mystified in a daze, zombified, a state of perpetual fossilization. Alice's cerulean eyes stayed vacant as she astral projected to another realm.
"Alice? Order?" Tiana snapped her fingers, waved both arms around, and considered lighting up a signal flare, "Alice!"
"H-Huh?" Alice's mind returned to the land of the living.
"The. Order. Is. Ready." Tiana drawled out each word, shoving the items into Alice's barely capable hands.
"Oh, s-sorry, T." Alice apologized, "I was just thinking."
"An uncharted territory for you?" Tiana teased, but Alice was too transfixed by fleeting musings of Robin to notice her employer's impish remark.
With a wink, Alice took her leave, meandering out of the diner. Tiana blinked, trying to remember if she had ever agreed to the nickname of 'T' and contemplating whether Alice's incompetence would become problematic or remain endearing. Truth be told, Naveen, the poor dear, he could hardly mop the floors, so Alice was still Tiana's best employee by default. Astonishing.
Swinging open the restaurant door, a second jingle heralded Alice's departure. The daylight was radiant, burning against the blonde's retinas. Yellow. If Alice could see colors, the incandescent sun and Robin's flawless hair would share the same hue. A fitting notion, for the magnificent young woman to correlate with the scintillating star.
The blonde scrurried to where Robin sat, patiently waiting for her meal. Equipped with a genuine smile, Alice held out the package of beignets and the paper cup before the green-eyed girl, having assumed that her customer wanted the treats served in a portable fashion. Someone like Robin must be busy, she just proliferated a sophisticated disposition, much too refined to waste time loitering at a second-class diner.
"Your order's ready!" Alice exclaimed buoyantly.
"To go?" Robin quirked up an eyebrow, evidently unhappy with Alice's presumption.
"Yeah, well. I thought that—"
"It's fine." Robin interrupted Alice's explanation with a clipped response, "This should cover it."
Standing up, disembarking off the bench, Robin's hand slipped into her front pocket and procured a few random bills. Robin didn't bother to count the currency, she snatched her purchases from out of Alice's fingers and exchanged them for monetary papers. A sullen demeanor had replaced Robin’s cheerfulness. She brushed past Alice, taking her leave.
"O-Oh, okay. Um." Alice shuffled to the side, staring at Robin's back, "Come again, please."
The blonde's parting last words, the sincerity injected into each syllable was able to petrify Robin's feet. At a sluggish rate, she pivoted around to face Alice once more. The crease on her forehead became smooth, eyes averting Alice's apprehensive gaze. With a weird nervousness, Robin looked up at the befuddled waitress.
"You'd want me to come again?" Robin muttered.
"Yes!" Alice blurted out, a bit too zestfully.
Alice's exuberant outburst had a restorative effect on the other girl's mood. Robin swayed both feet anxiously, and cocked her head to the side. She gazed at Alice thoughtfully, deliberating something within her mind. The corners of Robin's lips moved upward, she let out an exasperated breath.
"Then I'll be back." Robin acquiesced, smiling with candid mirth, "Goodbye, Alice."
"Goodbye, Robin." Alice finally managed to convey a coherent sentence to Robin.
Grinning distractedly, Robin stood there, with one hand clamped around the coffee cup, while her other clutched the bag of beignets, fingers digging into the package. Curiouser and curiouser. Robin hadn't taken a sip of the beverage and she did not appear to be in any hurry to eat her treats.
The city started to awaken, the clamor of pedestrians, the screeching of tires against the asphalt pavement. A passing vehicle honked at another motorist, an incident that didn't pertain to either one of the blondes, but effectively pried Robin away from her idle stupor. A reddening flush against the young woman's cheeks, Robin became aware of her own awkwardness and chuckled timidly.
Leaning on a heel as she spun around, Robin graced Alice with one last grin, before heading out. Shoes clinking against the concrete ground, she staggered toward the sidewalk, muttering something indistinguishable to herself. Robin was stressed, perhaps she had a job interview or a taxing commitment that weighed heavily upon her mind.
Alice enumerated all the possible reasons why Robin had been behaving erratically, feeling intrigued by the elusive nature of the enigmatic stranger's temperament. Alice felt perplexed, unable to believe that a gorgeous golden-haired young woman would visit such a rudimentary diner. Perhaps Robin didn't even exist, maybe she was just a figment of Alice's overactive imagination, the product of her chimerical psyche. Yet, if being mentally sane meant not seeing Robin ever again, then Alice preferred to wholeheartedly accept the fact that she might have lost her mind.