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When Philippe was younger, he experienced a rare flash of color unheard of in a world of blacks, whites, and greys. People who stayed present and aware of their surroundings supposedly could sometimes catch a glimpse of color. But color itself was reserved for a rare few. Only people who had soulmates and met them could see in color.
His older brother, Nate, saw color thanks to already meeting his soulmate years ago and named each color for him. Philippe enjoyed this like a toddler naming objects he'd never seen before. Every color name fascinated him to no end. Once Nate heard his description of where he saw the color, he named it for him. Over the years, he got better at describing them to Nate, and whenever they’d hang out, he’d recall the latest glimpse into the world of color.
On a rainy day the droplets looked like little crystals shimmering on the canal, and the water in the canal itself was blue. Nate told him that the sky was also blue—imagine an entire sky made of the same crystals as the water. Just a sky full of water flowing freely and shimmering in that same color, that’s what he considered the color blue.
The cherry blossoms greeted him with a soft color in the springtime. They were pink. Pink appeared in a few places. His brother told him that sometimes people blush and on a few of them, it looked pink. Pink looked cute, pretty, and delicate, like the flowers he saw pink on for the first time.
During a ride out of the city when he went to clear his head, a ripple of color blew through the grass in the open fields of the rural part of Kalos. It was green. Green was deep and everywhere. He saw the movement of the wind through the grass and stared at it for what felt like an eternity. Green. According to Nate, most plants had green stems or leaves. The wind might not have color, but it sure played with color in its own way.
His favorite cafe gave him coffee everyday in his teen years, but after a while of staring at it, he noticed it changed for a moment. He saw brown. Food had color too. He didn’t even realize color was separate from nature. Things had color. People made things with color intentionally. He adored food, and knowing that food could have colors, intentionally, made it that much better.
The tulips by the Pokémon Center grow in intensity when he first saw red. Red was bold, and he understood why Pokémon stopped to admire the flowers so often. Pokémon naturally saw color from birth, so they already experienced more of the world than humans.
Some Pokémon caught his eye—Magikarp was orange, a Flabebe picked an orange flower as its signature color. He saw orange pop everywhere unexpectedly, but only briefly as it went almost as soon as it came. Explaining it was hard since nothing he expected to be orange showed its color, but when they shared an orange that was, of course, orange, he started to associate the citrus flavor with the color.
An Ekans startled him during a walk, and it warned him with its purple scales that it was poisonous and willing to bite him. Did color scare off certain Pokémon? Did certain types have more of certain colors than others? Purple appeared on a lot of the dangerous ones, he noticed. Both bold and shimmering, it caught his eye, the color purple. Nate confirmed that coloration did play a role in Pokémon types and dangerous ones usually had indicators on them. Color served a lot of purpose despite it being accessible to only some people.
One day he saw a new color that evaded him previously. This color hid from him all this time until now, and it was everywhere. During a stroll on a sunny day, he saw a blanket of color on everything. He looked at his hand and saw it there, on Pokémon, on the trees and flowers, he looked at the canal and saw it glittering over the water, giving it a shine in a way nothing else before it did. Seeing it made him somewhat giddy too. Like a hidden gem in a predictable city. What was happening? What color traveled this way through all the other colors?
He asked his brother right away as plainly as he could. “I was scouting out by the canal this morning and saw a sheen of something over everything. What color was that?”
“Everything? Oh—was the sun out?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s yellow. Sunlight coats everything in a yellow tint, you probably saw yellow.”
“Sunlight is yellow? I could actually feel it too. I didn’t think light had color.”
Nate laughed at him. “You seem really excited about yellow. Wait till you see a sunset.”
For weeks Philippe attempted to see the colors of a sunset, but for every sunset he caught, he saw no color. He often went long periods without getting any color, but when he saw a flash, he reflexively smiled and chased it. Joy in the hints of color. Maybe one day the ability to keep them. When he found a tulip the color of sunlight, he selfishly picked it and put it in a vase in his apartment. Even if it faded when he lost the color again. He’d still know it was yellow.
But life sapped his joy.
Philippe took troublemakers off the street and gave them work. Idle hands always ended up doing things they shouldn’t. If he kept them busy, they did good things. Guys who messed around with the elderly did better when they had responsibility. Kids who liked breaking things did better when they had a routine to help out neighbors in need of small errands. Flowers needed tending to. Garbage could be picked up instead of picking on weaker Pokémon for fun. He had to work it all out and give the older guys harder work, like breaking up disputes and fighting thugs trying to sell bad stuff on the street.
One of his guys mentioned some street kid throwing a wrench in his work, poaching people. This rascal was making it harder to get work done and keep everyone focused by distracting them with the promise of money. He considered it part of his civil duty to set him straight, and the people looking up to him expected him to take care of it.
“Grab him and bring him to the warehouse. I’ll put fear into the kid.”
His guys worked fast and dragged a guy to the warehouse Philippe mentioned. He waited for them and stood up when they brought him in, kicking and screaming. The small thing could barely get a hit in but was determined to fight everyone. They threw him on the ground and grabbed his shoulders. His hands were bound, so he couldn’t claw his way out.
This kid looked up to glare at Philippe as he went to yell at him for being a nuisance.
But the world opened up when he saw those eyes.
Molten, yellow eyes he could feel the heat from. Yellow, like a lantern lighting the way in the dark. Like metal ignited by fire, incandescent. The radiance of candlelight without the sophistication of gold. It wasn’t gold. It hurt—the way the sun blinded your eyes if you stared too long. A color of warning, of danger. And even now the glare persisted, despite the world being more colorful all of a sudden. Did he not see it too? Could your soulmate be somebody who wasn’t yours?
He spat profanities at Philippe and probably thought they were working too the way Philippe stepped back.
“Leave. I want him for myself,” Philippe dismissed the other two who mocked the kid on their way out after shoving him to the ground.
The guy sneered at him still as Philippe asked, “Don’t you see it?”
“See what? How you have me on my knees in front of you? Let my hands go, and you’ll get a real fight instead of a rigged one!”
Philippe looked around and stared at the colors. The warehouse didn’t have much, but what it did have astounded him. He never saw grey against other colors like the brown walls, the red fire extinguisher. How yellow labels on machinery and pipes looked bright even in the dark lighting of the warehouse.
The kid finally looked around, eyes widening. “What’s happening?” He sounded frightened.
“You don’t know about soulmates? And colors?”
“What? What are you talking about?” Yellow eyes pierced through him.
He didn’t know about soulmates. Why would he? He lived on the streets with a bunch of people in unfortunate circumstances whose survival was their priority; they barely had the capacity to handle some kid. The idea of soulmates was a bedtime story only available to those in safe, loving homes. Not everyone even had a soulmate. Why would they waste time telling some already unloved, street kid about that dream?
“They say once you meet your soulmate, your world becomes flooded with color.”
“Didn’t notice. Your eyes don’t have much color.” He tilted his head at Philippe.
What color were his eyes? He backed up and stared at some reflective metal by the wall and saw he had light grey eyes. No wonder the guy didn’t notice. Grey was visible to all humans.
Philippe went to him and untied his hands. The kid looked like he wanted to bite him but didn’t in order to get his hands freed.
His hair was purple, a deep shiny purple. Philippe didn’t realize hair could even be purple. He rarely saw purple and almost touched it out of curiosity.
Skin was something he didn’t expect to have color. When he reached out he saw his skin color. Both of their skin colors looked subtly different with layers of color. Undertones, redness, yellows, pinks. Corbeau even looked at his hands in amazement.
“I’m Philippe. What’s your name?”
“Corbeau.”
While Philippe’s guard was down, instead of staying to learn more, Corbeau broke away from him and ran. He ran away so quickly, Philippe couldn’t stop him.
--
Corbeau ran to Lysandre to figure out what this meant. He didn’t trust Philippe, and this was all new territory. No one talked about this before, not that he could recall. Lysandre would be straight with him. He knew when to be honest, and he rarely gave Corbeau the pretty version of reality.
Lysandre helped him in the past by both taking him out of a precarious situation and giving him a guiding hand. And a place to fall back on if he needed a place to be after unplanned failure, something sacred to a guy without anyone else to rely on.
When he entered Lysandre’s Cafe and called out to him, Lysandre turned around to face him. It shocked Corbeau to see him because his hair had a lot of color! All that intense color startled him so much that he briefly looked away just to stand the new sight of him.
“What’s wrong, Corbeau?”
“Your hair!” He stepped back and occasionally tried to meet his eyes. The color made him look so different, almost intimidating.
Lysandre smiled softly. “You can see color. You’ve met your soulmate today, that’s great news. Is everything okay?”
“I ran away from them,” he admitted.
Lysandre sat him down and took the seat across from him. Before he continued, someone brought them both drinks that Corbeau sipped on as Lysandre spoke to him. “Listen, a soulmate is someone who will love you no matter what. They’ll protect you, and you’ll have a partner for life. There’s truly nothing more beautiful than a connection that was made for you. A perfect match.
“However, let me warn you: a soulmate may not accept you, but it’s rare that one wouldn’t accept the person the universe says should be yours.”
“There’s a chance I’m rejected? Do I lose the colors?”
“No, you keep the colors no matter what.” Lysandre must have noticed his eyes drifting away so much because he mercifully added, “I can get you tinted lenses if they’re too much.”
He might take him up on that; he couldn’t stop squinting. “Can I come back here if he doesn’t want me?”
Lysandre hesitated, and at first Corbeau guessed that he wouldn’t want him back. He probably wanted the kid gone now that he had somewhere to go.
But no, Corbeau realized he revealed his soulmate’s gender. He didn’t want to do that, but it slipped out. Corbeau quickly scanned Lysandre for any signs of discomfort over that but couldn’t see any. Unfortunately he was hard to read too.
“Corbeau, go talk to your soulmate. If you need anything, I’m always here to talk, or if you need a place to go.”
--
Corbeau whistled for Philippe’s attention from in an alleyway. After spotting him, Philippe turned into the alley. The gang leader beamed at him like he was a member of his family or something.
Corbeau didn’t like his enthusiasm.
“I don’t accept,” Corbeau told him.
That wiped that smile off his face.
“I don’t need an obvious weakness that anyone can take advantage of. I’ve got plans, and it’s got nothing to do with soulmates, or colors, or anyone who isn’t helping me and my business. Since we’re tied together now, you’re gonna need to get lost. I don’t want to see you anywhere near me again, got it?”
Philippe crossed his arms but seemed at a loss for words. “I’d keep you safe, you know. We wouldn’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, but I’ll give you whatever you need.”
“Great, then I need you to go away and leave me alone and don’t talk to me ever again.” Corbeau turned to leave. “If I see you again: I’m treating you like a threat.”
“You were meant for me.”
“Go shout at Arceus if you want a refund.”
“Let’s talk about this. I wanna work it out—wait.”
Corbeau flipped him off and ran away.
--
Philippe’s brother invited him to a cafe next time he was in town. Philippe ordered a small coffee and stared at the brown swirling around with the white cream.
“I can see color now.”
“You met your soulmate?” Nate grinned at him widely. “I thought you’d have one the way you started seeing color. I actually thought she might be nearby since you saw so many colors already. Like maybe you passed each other on the street and didn’t notice, you know? What's she like?”
“I was rejected.”
His brother took his hand to squeeze, sincerely feeling bad for him. “I’m sorry, Philippe. I thought since you were such a good guy… listen, it happens.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. At least I get to keep the colors.” He looked at his hands. Pinker than his soulmate’s.
He wondered what it was supposed to be like. Philippe saw couples all the time that seemed so in love, kissing on bridges, laughing in the gardens, dancing on rooftops. But was that an act or the real thing?
Supposedly soulmates were more intense than regular couples. They had signs that they were meant to be together and a bond like nothing else in the world. So, what was Arceus’s idea here? Was his soulmate just a divine joke to make him wish he didn’t have one?
He hesitated to ask his brother or he’d put in his mind what he missed out on. Better to let it go.
But he still wanted to know, and it stuck in his mind while he worked.
--
Philippe ran his group and kept his mind on the kid running around avoiding him like the plague. It ate at him that he hated Philippe’s guts. His attention being so divided caused some issues, but he needed to keep tabs on him. So, he asked around about him a lot. May as well keep an eye on him. Reckless kid.
On a particularly silent day, he felt a natural pull to go to the Saison Canal. He walked with urgency, still unsure but not one to ignore his instincts. Did he long for the blue water? Did he need a moment to reminisce by the canal? No, it felt more pressing than a romantic urge to linger by something pretty.
In the distance, he spotted a small gang of troublemakers throwing a bag into the water and running off.
He needed to get that bag.
His legs had him darting to the canal before he could process everything. He knew why he needed the bag, had a hunch, but it didn’t hit him until the water turned a desperate, heart wrenching grey just as he finally jumped in…
Philippe could swim well, but the water dragged him down faster than he expected. He managed to grab the bag and force his way back to the surface. For a second, he couldn’t navigate how to get back to land, but he made it. It all felt like it took too long.
His hands couldn’t break the bag fast enough. Once he did, he dumped out an unconscious Corbeau. The kid looked every shade of black and white.
No, it wasn’t right. Seeing him like that made him dizzy and nauseous with panic.
Through the shock, he reflexively started CPR—but first checked his breathing. Corbeau wasn’t breathing, but his heart was beating, though barely.
He gave him two breaths and after a couple compressions, Corbeau started coughing up the water. Coughing meant breathing.
Yellow eyes met his, and he took a breath in finally. Philippe’s hands automatically went to help him sit up, almost guaranteed to be slapped away from the fickle Fletchling since he forbade him to be anywhere near him just recently.
Instead, Corbeau grabbed his arm and held onto him, trembling slightly and trying to catch his breath. He was still terrified and trying to even out his breathing.
Philippe looked up at the water. The sunset over the water created a beautiful array of color: orange and yellow. Purple. Even pink. It grounded him to see it: it also meant they were alive. He was alive. They were okay. Color came back and surrounded them once again. Gorgeous life all around them. He'd long stopped trying to see a sunset, and after the rejection, color wasn't bringing him joy anymore. But Nate was right: nothing beats a sunset.
Eventually, Corbeau caught his breath and blinked at him. “How did you find me?”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on you, but today, I just had this feeling to come here. You need a bodyguard,” Philippe tried to jest.
“That was me trying to find one,” he snapped at Philippe. “He brought some friends with him and shoved me in a bag, something about how I’ve been messing around the wrong neighborhood.”
Philippe patted his back to signal him to move. “Here, let’s go indoors. I’ll check you a little better at my place.”
Corbeau hung on and refused to let go.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”
“We can’t go together. There’s eyes watching us.” He looked back at the bag. “My glasses.”
Philippe pulled the bag closer and found the glasses. When Corbeau loosened his grip to put them on, Philippe stood up and grabbed him, throwing him over his shoulder while he kicked and screamed. As he walked, Corbeau still hit him and tried to claw at his back. The mouth on this kid never ceased to amaze him. He called him every word in any language within his reach. Some Philippe didn’t even know.
Once inside his apartment, he figured out it was an act. As soon as he put him down, Corbeau immediately stopped and looked around.
His glasses were tinted.
“You didn’t wear glasses last time I saw you.”
“Missed the grey.” He looked at Philippe and smiled a little. “Guess that’s why your eyes are grey. Universe’s design or whatever.”
It wasn’t—he only knew because his brother loved blue and his soulmate had brown eyes. But there was something to that.
“I do love yellow,” Philippe automatically answered back. “I’m sorry the colors are too much, maybe that’s something you get used to after a while.”
“It’s fine it’s not like it’s your… actually it is your fault, huh? Well, apology accepted.” His stubborn soulmate waltzed into his house and nodded at the decorations. “This is nice. Very minimalist. Not too flashy.”
Philippe stayed by the door and just watched him walking around checking everything out a bit more cheerfully than he was when he nearly… when he almost…
Corbeau turned back to him and squinted.
“What?” Philippe cocked his head at him.
“You just got really quiet, like something’s bothering you.”
“I’m surprised you’re not more angry with me about interfering with your business. Like you said you would be.”
Corbeau sighed and fixed his glasses. “Ever since the colors appeared, everything’s been going downhill fast. Some of my guys turned on me. Gangs are getting gutsier, like the bodyguard I tried to hire.” He shivered. "You know, I'm not some evil, greedy guy or whatever your guys told you. I have plans for the city; I'm like you. I know what you're doing, trying to stop trouble and make things better. I could do that if I wasn't so..."
He slowly navigated back to Philippe and looked up at him with tired eyes. It crushed him to see his tired eyes.
“I’ll work for you.”
“What?” Corbeau frowned at him.
“I’ll do it. Be the brute force behind your business.”
“I thought you wanted a relationship, not a business partner.”
Philippe put a hand on his shoulder. “I just wanted you. If keeping you safe is how I get to be around you, I’ll do that. We don’t have to date if you don’t want to; we never have to do anything like that. You can just be mine to protect and watch over forever. I’ll keep you safe from anything and anyone that wants to hurt you.”
That's what he wanted to hear. He pushed himself into Philippe’s chest. Philippe caught him. He hugged him back hard.
--
Once upon a time, there were soulmates that loved to love each other. They enjoyed the benefits of being soulmates: colors, a family, unconditional devotion. No one loved each other more than these soulmates did.
This pair didn’t just have a family: they had an entire organization dedicated to their bosses and a bright future for the community they cared about so much.
They didn’t love each other the typical way of kissing and sleeping together: the subordinate kept his boss safe and stayed devoted to him and only him, and the boss gave him anything and everything he desired, including his life, his secrets, and his deep appreciation.
Not everyone knew they were soulmates, but everyone knew the right-hand man loved the color yellow, and nothing was as yellow as the Boss’s eyes.
But if he could see color, shouldn’t he be with his soulmate?
What no one knew was that his soulmate’s favorite color was the endless light grey in the clouds and in his soulmate’s eyes. And that he wore tinted glasses to tolerate the rest of the colors and not because he needed corrective lenses. Glasses that he didn’t wear at home with his soulmate so he could see his eyes in the comfort of their home.
Philippe once said he couldn’t imagine his world filled with color. But not anymore. Not since he’d seen it for nearly a decade. In response, Corbeau told him, alone, without any ears around, that he couldn’t imagine a world without color either because it would be a world without him.