Iplier and Septiceye One-Shots/Imagines

What Real Eyes Can't See (Host X Colourblind!Reader)

Suggested by: @AshCrimsonWolf

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Ever since you were born, you've been... different. You were colourblind. As in, 'no colour spectrum at all' colourblind, not the colourblind where you just see different colours than they actually are.

You didn't really mind, you supposed. Grass was supposed to be green, the sky blue, strawberries red, but hey. Grey was a pretty cool colour too, right? I mean, once you see it day after day after every-fricking-day, it tends to grow on you.

Yeah, so, you might be a bit bored of it. But, who can blame you? After twenty-three years of seeing just different shades of grey, white and black, you were tired.

So here you were. Sitting on your light grey couch next to your dark grey coffee table, watching a black and white movie. No, not the old ones where they actually couldn't put colour because they hadn't invented those types of cameras yet. You were watching "The Lord of the Rings" in HD. You were so bored after a few minutes, so you turned it off and decided to stroll at the nearby park for a bit. You put on some sneakers and a light coat, and walked outside.

It was a sunny day. At least, that's what you could tell from the light grey sky. That... y'know, it wasn't dark grey. You saw a man standing by a tree, staring at you with his arms crossed. You couldn't quite see his features well, since he was so far away and he looked like a grey blob facing you. This angered you, for some reason, so you walked up to him angrily. Then you realized something as you got closer to the man.

He wasn't staring at you. He couldn't be. He was blind. There was a bloody bandage around his head where his eyes were supposed to be. This unnerved you for some reason; people walked around with bloody bandages all the time, right? Not wanting to look scared, you continued his way.

"Hi. Do you have a problem with me?" you asked the strange man.

"(Y/N) asks Host if Host has a problem, in which Host replies that Host does not," the stranger said firmly. You frowned, wondering how many drugs he was on.

"Dude, you feeling alright?" you questioned him uncertainly.

"(Y/N) then asks Host if Host was feeling okay, and wonders if Host was high, or if there was something wrong with Host. To answer (Y/N)'s question, Host is perfectly fine, and is not on any drugs that Host can name," he explained.

"You're Host? Why are you talking in third-person?" you went on to interrogate this "Host" character.

"(Y/N) goes on to ask Host if Host's name was actually as Host says, in which Host replies, yes, it is. Host then answers (Y/N)'s second question by telling (Y/N) that Host has a speech impediment where Host must speak in third-person all the time," he tells you. "Then (Y/N) thinks again about Host's rude quote unquote, "staring", and was about to ask why Host was doing that before Host interrupted (Y/N). Host will also add before (Y/N) asks that Host can detect what people are about to do and, to a limit, say, based off of body movements and other such things."

"That's... impressive," you complimented, and Host gave a small smile.

"(Y/N) tells Host that the intuitions Host has are impressive, when really it is just years of work and lucky guesses. Host then tells (Y/N) why Host was staring just now. Host then tells (Y/N) that Host is impressed."

"Impressed? How so?" you asked quietly, thoroughly confused.

"(Y/N) then wonders why Host says (Y/N) is impressive, and Host then tells (Y/N) that Host knows (Y/N) is colourblind, and is impressed it has never gotten (Y/N) down."

"Well... I wouldn't say that," you muttered, looking away. Host gave a small smile.

"Host just wanted to say that if (Y/N) ever needed help... Host will be there."

"Is that it?" you asked.

"It's not much, Host knows, but it's the best Host can do at the moment. Maybe... Host can get to know (Y/N) a bit better soon?"

You hesitated. This was a man you had only met almost three minutes ago, who looked like a creep, no offence to him, of course. But, he knew what it was like. So you nodded.

"Yeah, Host. I'll...." You paused, unsure how to give him your number for him to contact you.

"Host will give you his number," he butted in, holding out his hand, expecting your phone. You shrugged, and opened your contacts, then handed it to him. He somehow typed his number in, and handed it back.

"So...." you sighed, looking at his bandage.

"Host will see you soon," he nodded, and walked away with his hands in his trench coat pockets. You stared at his back until the darkness enveloped him, and you started back to your apartment.

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Word count: 846

I'm behind on everything... I'm so sorry.