I. Violet

She s dressing after a shower when he first catches sight of her arm, and his heart constricts to nothing at the sight of light purple, dotting along it in splotches where the IV has made a near-permanent home. She looks up, catches his eye, and turns away hurriedly, pulling a shirt over her head, but the sleeves aren t long enough.

He pulls her away, into his lap on the couch, presses a wet kiss to her temple and several dry ones to that spot. He wishes his kiss was a marker, was paint, could reclaim pale peach in brush strokes.

II. Indigo

Her favorite color has changed. She doesn t know it until the first time he moves inside of her, and his eyes turn dark, dark purple-blue, a rich shade she s never seen before. It makes her gasp, makes her moan, stokes the fire inside of her hotter than it s ever been. She locks her eyes with his, wrapping her arms tightly around him to make sure she doesn t lose that color.

When he comes he closes his eyes, and she cries out at the loss. She tightens around him, promising herself she ll never go too long without seeing that shade again.

III. Blue

It is nearly snowing outside. She wants to light her stove, but the centurions are so close, and she no longer knows what will make them take her back to detention. So she lies on her mattress, snuggling as deep as she can into the blue wool blanket he gave her when she came here. It still smells faintly of him, and the scent brings tears to her eyes, makes her heart clench painfully in her chest, nearly makes it break.

She knows he is coming back. He left her his favorite blue blanket. He ll want it back some day.

IV. Green

He realizes he s in love with her when he catches himself earnestly trying to figure out what color her eyes are. He doesn t think he s ever cared so much about something so menial before, but it isn t menial, and her eyes are fascinating, somewhere in between green and grey. She s angry with him, but when she look at him over his glasses, the first word that pops into his mind is sage.

What? She looks bewildered. He said that out loud?

Sage, he says. Your eyes are the color of sage.

Her eyes widen, a blush settles. He s in love.

V. Yellow

I used to hate it.

Bill looks over at her, confused. What? Hate what?

Yellow, she repeats. I used to hate it. I realized yesterday that I haven t seen anything that was really, truly yellow in months. Not since the attacks, really. No one wears it. It s not on anything.

It s too happy a color for out here, he says, and she hums in agreement. My pins are yellow.

Your pins are gold, she corrects, rolling her eyes. Men.

Pencils?

Pencils are orange. I never understood why people called them yellow.

He sighs. Love didn t make Laura any less difficult.

VI. Orange

The setting sun catches them, bathes her in a golden glow, and his mouth runs dry. She hasn t noticed, is still looking at the sky, speaking words of today and hope , and he can t look away. She may or may not be a prophet, but he is quite certain she is a Goddess, lit up in shades of persimmon.

What? she says, looking at him curiously.

You re beautiful, he tells her truthfully.

She blushes, shifting around nervously. Has he been quite so bold before? He can t remember right now. He reaches down, entwines her hand with his. Beautiful , he repeats.

VII. Red

His hands twine in her fiery tresses, pulling her down for a scorching kiss as her pussy clenches down around his cock again and again. His hands run through the copper, marveling at its texture, its gorgeous color. Her back arches, and she moans, hands fighting for purchase on his chest as her wild mane of curls trembles around her shoulders.

He reaches between them, strokes twice, and she s gone, crying out his name. He watches her writhe, marveling at her, soothing her down with hands and lips. He shifts her to lie on him, her hair blanketing them both.