If she's honest, she's used to it. You can't miss something you never had, so not being able to see color is not all that bad.

She relies on her mother, her words painting the world for her. She can't see them, but she can imagine the color of the leaves, the clear sky.

She likes it, the afternoons sitting in front of her parents, their world so different from hers, and yet so beautiful. Her mother, with a cup of tea in her hands and her soft smile, telling her all about the different colors, and how one green could be different from other, how the sky would not only be blue. Her father, with her mother's hand in his, nodding and adding his own colors, like the color of the birds and the flowers in their garden.

She sees the world in shades, and she doesn't know what color blood is. She may be young, but she's smart. She knows what it means, she knows it is blood and she knows the wound is too deep.

For a moment, she's thankful that her soulmate has never been found. She thinks that maybe colors would be too much.

She wakes up in the floor, her feet numb from the cold. Everything is gray, but she knows that the sky is supposed to look like that. Her mother had told her that the sky was gray in rainy days.

The boy arrives unexpectedly. She had lost her hope, actually. She was accepting the fact that she would be left with these men, when his voice reaches her, and she is saved.

His eyes are not gray, and like the rings that form around where drops fall in water, different colors surround her.

It's beautiful, she thinks for a moment, before remembering where she is and how she got there. Her voice is quiet, and he reaches for the knife a second too late.

The knife's handle is smooth, wood–brown, she tells herself. Wood is brown. That is brown.

The blood on the man's back is red, she learns later, when the scarf is around her neck and Eren keeps asking questions about the colors around them.

His parent talk with them days later, they explain what a soulmate is and what they should do- to be by their side, to support each other, always-and she nods with their words, but she doesn't think Eren sees soulmates as anything more than friends, for the moment. She's okay with it.

It's very beautiful, seeing the fire burn. Orange, Eren whispers, his shoulder bumping into hers some nights later as they sit in front of the fireplace. She knows that. She knows the colors once she sees them in the stuff she recognizes. She knows green are the leaves and Eren's eyes. She knows what things are red, and blue, and she knows yellow is the light and Armin's hair.

But she doesn't know the color of her mother's favorite sweater, the color of her father's eyes. She can't know how dark was her mother's hair, or the color of her father's hat.

The world is a very beautiful place for her, but very cruel at the same time.

The fall of wall Maria is…horrible. She can see the red blood dripping down their mouths, their eyes and skin so human looking.

She can see Carla's eyes. She can feel the brown of her eyes burn into her soul as tears start to form in Mikasa's eyes. Her fingers have slivers in them, her head starting to get overwhelmed with all the colors and sounds and there are sobs in the back of her throat as Hannes takes them away.

The sky is almost orange in that sunset, but she's not sure if that's the way it's supposed to be, or if it's just her head messing with her.

They find a way to cheer up Armin when they are all alone. They sit at his sides, holding his hands and they take turn to whisper the colors of the world. They paint a picture in the boy's head, stumbling when they can't find the words.

And in the military, they find people like them. There is Krista, who smiles when Mikasa recognizes the colors, and Ymir who just rolls her eyes. There is Annie; quiet, blushing Annie who can't hold their eyes for too long, and Sasha who laughs and cries and screams when she realizes what is happening and flings herself to the boy's neck.

And then there is Armin, who shares it in a whisper as his cheeks turn pink. Armin, who is heartbroken after the female Titan is captured, who frowns and stomps his feet and says 'she's not dead!' when they try to talk about her.

And there is them, of course.

Eren, who loves the colors and laughs and kisses her face when he realizes what it means being soulmates, Eren who lifts her in the air when she says yes, yes, she'll be his girlfriend because yes, she loves him, how could she not?

And Mikasa. Mikasa, who says she's stronger than all of them while trying to stop her hands from shaking as the sky starts turning gray and the buildings seem to bleed their colors to reveal gray. Who is scared-terrified- when the rain starts to wash every color she learned to love, and who feels the life coming back to her when the steam gives way to color and Eren and everything seems to be okay.

They laugh when they turn into a tangled mess, red, pink, white and brown all as a blur, and she laughs as she raises her arms and he breathes, millimeters apart from her lips as he whispers how much he loves because god, she's so beautiful and she's so perfect. She blushes as her lips brush against his, her eyes closed as his hands settle on her back.

She likes red. She likes the red from the flowers, the red from her scarf. She likes the red that is passion, the red that is love and happiness and being safe and warm. But she hates that red that clings to her clothes, fading to an awful brown but never actually leaving. She hates the red that means titans and wounds and death.

It's awful, being far from your soulmate as the world begins to fade to gray. It's not something that changes form one moment to another, but rather a slow change in colors.

It's like the world loses its color as your soulmates bleeds to death. She reaches him on time, his eyes slowly turning gray as blood drips down his nose. It's worse than just a nosebleed; she knows he can't regenerate fast enough.

He seems confused for a moment, before his eyes reach her stomach. She supposes it's nothing more than pink for him, but he understands it. He makes her lay down, his fingers find hers and their eyes lock.

They don't need words; the colors are enough for them. Maybe, she thinks, he won't realize when she dies, with her black eyes and pale face. But she knows the moment he starts to slip into the darkness and coldness that death was rumored to be. She knows, because his face is paler and paler; and his eyes stop being his and turn into a cheaper version.

He dies before her. She knows, because his eyes turn a vivid green before going completely gray, still opened to see hers.

She turns her face to the sky, the gray making her eyes sting as tears refuse to form.

She closes her eyes as a blinding light surrounds her.