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His mom always told him he has the most beautiful brown eyes with emerald green flecks.
It’s not like he could know.
The blackboard he is right now writing on in front of 200 students of engineering is colourless. So are the trees, the grass outside, his matcha latte he took to university this morning… and everything else that should be green.
You will find your colour one day, his mom whispered to him on her deathbed. Don’t lose hope.
Her hospital gown was colourless. That was more than 10 years ago.
Now 33 years old, professor Gustave Eiffel has other priorities in life. He doesn’t even have anything colourless on his body anymore.
Usually, that would be how people who try and search for the one to bring that colour to them would go around life: Never forget your colourless band or ring or clothing item of choice. So that if you find your soulmate, you will notice immediately. Or they would maybe go lost in the vast sea of modern society.
Old fashioned, useless ancient ritual, Gustave called it when his friends Lune and Sciel scolded him for his behaviour. So what if he never finds his colour? His missing arm is much more of a disability already.
Chalk dust flies off the board as he presses harder on it. The constant scratch is the only sound in the room besides those of pens and laptop keyboards behind him.
He could find love that isn’t magical destiny. A lot of people do! There is no reason for his friends to be concerned. His breakup with Sophie four years ago was unfortunate - she won’t be his last lover. Who could’ve anticipated her to find her soulmate on a trip with her best friend Alan, right before Gustave’s and hers planned marriage?
Stop thinking about it. It’s over now. Focus on your work, or you miscalculate.
The door suddenly opens, and most of the people in the plenary hall stop what they are doing to check on who is interrupting them. Not Gustave.
“Don’t be late next time”, he grunts, still facing the board.
“Desolée, monsieur Eiffel.” A surprisingly deep and mature voice answers. “Go, there’s a free spot in row two.” The person… man? Adds with a whisper.
That makes Gustave finally turn around, catching a young female student with long white hair hurriedly walking up the stairs to a free table. He has never seen her before. Must have lost her way.
“Mon dieu…” The sound of a sudden, loud gasp turns Gustave’s attention towards the door.
A tall, handsome man with shoulder long, black locks and curious white hair strands is standing there, frozen in place. He wears a suit with a pin of the university, given to professors and staff. He must be around Gustave’s age.
Gustave can’t help but stare at him for another few moments. Who is he? He certainly would have remembered someone this handsome from the teaching staff. A new professor maybe?
And why does his heart flutter wildly in his chest when looking at him?
Then Gustave realizes that the man’s blue eyes are impossibly wide as he stares in utter fascination at the blue band wrapped around his pinky finger.
Oh. Gustave turns back, pained. Immediately understanding what has happened to that man - that he… wait, why does the chalkboard suddenly look so weird?
He stumbles a step back, and stunned chatter erupts all around the room.
It’s… the board is…green? No… that’s. That is not possible.
“They both see it! It’s professor Dessendre and professor Eiffel!”
“OH MY GOD! THEY ARE SOULMATES!”
“Ahem.” The man at the door clears his throat, and despite not being too loud with it, the chatter in the whole room instantly dies down in respect.
Gustave is still too stunned to speak. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to.
“Don’t get distracted from monsieur Eiffel’s valuable lesson. I apologize for interrupting and take my leave.”
Brown-green eyes briefly meet icy blues as a newly formed bond starts to itch its way into their consciousnesses. Gustave sees his mouth move, silently conveying a last message before leaving the room:
‘I’ll see you in the teacher’s office, mon cœur.’