Chapter Text
Tommy’s family was a mirage of colors, but mainly he felt the colors of denim blue, forest green, and a wine-esque maroon.
Ever since first being fostered by Phil at the age of seven, he always knew that Wilbur was maroon. A dark reddish-purple that gave off the vibes of someone that was warm and comforting but moody at the same time. But the more that he got to know Wilbur the more that color evolved, much like it does for everyone he meets. He was no longer just maroon anymore. His chaotic nature had gained him flecks of orange that tended to glow like the rainbow Christmas lights. And while he brooded a lot, he was still upbeat and a force of happy energy when the stars aligned, adding in smudges of bright green that remind Tommy of a moss that he sees on the rocks near the Brighton Sea.
And then there was his other brother Technoblade, who gave off a mid-tone dark green after the first conversation. Unlike Wilbur’s bright green, Techno’s exuded a composed and calm nature, but one that still had energetic fun shine through banter they shared. A monotonous warm grey joined it welcoming like rain on a night in, swirling together in the most mesmerizing way. But the underlying tone of banter and jabs that he seemed to pull out of nowhere earned him purple flecks, a playfulness that always found its way into conversations.
Finally, there was Phil, he had a warm grey like Techno, but his was swirled with a mid-tone blue, much like a worn denim. He was easy to get along with, he went with the flow of things easily, but not in an uncaring way. Rather one that wasn’t as concerned with the future, just vibing with life. And he had some smudges of bright green like Wilbur. Many flecks of a pastel pink that showed just how caring he was, joined into the mix a couple days later.
It was always easy for Tommy to describe people in colors, he couldn’t quite grasp why, but he always just seemed to think like that. But when he brought it up to his sage green and bright orange swirled childhood friend, Tubbo, he was met with a confused face and more questions than answers. And he definitely didn’t cry to Phil about it when Tubbo looked at him like he was insane. Because he was a big man even at eight years old. Big men don’t cry to their dads because they’re friends don’t understand that the math teacher was a gross green-yellow-grayish color with flecks of chocolate brown.
Obviously finding out that nobody else understood what Tommy was saying about the chaos of orange and caring nature of pinks was distressing. For Tommy because he felt so isolated when he talked about it to his brothers, and they kept not understanding the difference between light blue and dark green.
Phil quickly realized that this wasn’t just a phase that his youngest was going through and quickly found that he was out of his depth. So, he went to professionals and many questions, psychological tests and evaluations later. It had taken so many worrying months, but they had finally had their answer to why Tommy felt things the way he did. A lovely little diagnosis of Personality-Color Associative Synesthesia.
All of this brings us to the present. Tommy getting sent to his first day of college with a quick hug and kiss on the head from Dadza and a warning that went something along the lines of ‘Please, for the love of God, don’t cause any trouble’.
The day had been going fine, no chaos, no havoc. Just a slight headache at the colors that were flashing through his brain at every new classmate and teacher. Greens, blues, and hues of purple contrasting too much with the monotone white brick walls and the dirty gray tiles that looked like that of a prison. After nearly six hours of this Tommy wanted to go home and curl up on his bed and sleep until the end of the school year and maybe never think of another color again. So, going to his last class was not what he wanted to be doing. He walked into the classroom and went into the first open seat that he could find. Not really thinking about the fact that there might be assigned seating, knowing that if there was it would be figured out later and he would move if he was told. His head began pounding as the shrill bell rang loudly, like it was trying to destroy his hearing.
And with that the teacher began to speak.
“Hello, class. My name is Kristin Rosales, you can all call me Kristin or Ms. Rosales. And I will be your English teacher for this semester.” The now named teacher said. But Tommy wasn’t paying any attention. Because all he could think about is the color coral. It took over his mind. Now, Tommy had felt a lot of colors, blues, purples, golden-yellows, and so many shades of gray. However, coral wasn’t a color that he felt often. She reminded Tommy of something from his past that made his heart ache, but not for any reason that he could place. Coral was special, and Tommy knows that it just so happens to go so well with the color of blue denim. Tommy wanted to make sure that would happen. The more that she talked throughout the class, the more colors that Tommy felt. Tommy got splatters of golden yellow with the way that she would be optimistic about the school year and the care that she seemed to overflow with at her student’s well-being. And so much purple that it was surprising.
Now if he wanted his dad and Ms. Rosales to meet soon and not have to wait for them to meet at parent teacher reviews then he was going to have to get a little drastic, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. By the time that he got everything planned for getting in trouble. The class was ending, and he was pulling his bag over his shoulders while he walked out of the classroom.
He started small, he felt like he had to. He couldn’t just come straight out the gate with chaos and havoc. Tommy wanted to wear her down slowly, make her exhausted, make her need a conversation with dad. So, at first, he was the perfect student. Asked questions about the stories and answered hers just as much, really participated, he stayed up late doing her homework, making it perfect. It was exhausting . But finally, she seemed to genuinely like Tommy and his attitude (or lack thereof) in class.
He wasn’t even just working on the class stuff either. All his free time was spent subtly telling Phil all about her. Every night at dinner they went around the table and talked about their days. He would talk about her class, any jokes or puns she made, references to Greek mythology, the songs she played during their worktimes. Maybe it wasn’t so subtle but his father seemed to smile every time that Tommy would talk about her. So, it wasn’t really a surprise when one night at dinner, Phil finally cracked. Because of course he would be curious.
“Tommy, mate, you talk about Ms. Rosales a lot, but umm, you haven’t said anything about her color. Does she have one?” he said, weirdly shy. He had always been supportive of Tommy’s synesthesia, and never made him feel weird about it. Constantly listened about which colors went well together and which colors usually meant what in terms of their personality.
“Well, yeah. Everyone has a color.” Tommy replied, a grin beginning to form.
“Well then, what is her color?” He asked.
“Coral.” He replied simply. Knowing that Phil had never heard of someone having the color coral.
And thus, set into motion the plan.
The first day was easy, he was being a little shit, made jokes about the material that they started on, at first Ms. Rosales had let out smiles and laughs at his quips, but slowly you could see that she was starting to become more prickly and more annoyed with every one-liner. And with every single quip, the giggly mood in the room would grow and slowly but surely, he got the classroom into complete chaos. There was the girl next to him crying laughing at something that he said about the main character having a praise kink. Ms. Rosales was angry. Perfect. She tried to calmly get the class reigned back in, but when that wasn’t working, she quickly got louder but she was still so patient. A couple of nagging words later and the class was back in sync like nothing had ever happened and she slowly went back into teaching mode after. She was too nice, too patient. He knew that he was going to have to step up his game. Because he had just sent the class into a giggle fest and the only thing that he received was a playful glare.
So, the next day, he walked into his last class of the day. A grin already on his face, he was ready and maybe a little too excited. He dropped down into his usual seat and proceeded with class with business as usual, answering questions and answering them all the same. Writing down notes with eagerness. Until he stopped and pulled out a lovely piece of paper. A couple folds later and he had his weapon. A lovely little plane, complete with wings and no particular destination. And with that it flew through the classroom and hit someone in the head. And so, he made another and another and another. And flew them through the air one by one. Ms. Rosales was bound to notice, and she did. When her back was turned, one hit her in the head after a classmate threw one back into the air. So, when she turned around and saw the class throwing planes, turning the classroom into a sort of international airspace. She was angry and immediately asked for the person responsible. Almost like a movie all fingers pointed to him, and he was left alone with the wrath of the coral-colored Ms. Rosales.
“Thomas Watson. Please refrain from causing interruptions like this in class. Or I will be forced to call home and/or seek further punishment.” She said, her tone holding no room for argument and her smile oddly threatening. But still nothing, no call home, no being sent to the office. He is just going to have to try harder.
And so, Tommy walked in on what he hoped would be the final day of his plan. To be honest he didn’t quite like getting in trouble in this class and didn’t like the negative view that Ms. Rosales saw in him. Today took a little more planning and a trip to the store, but it would be worth it. It would have to be. He was in the class before when he asked to leave early and go to the bathroom, to make it to Ms. Rosales class with enough time to get everything ready. And he did. And as everyone walked into the classroom, he gave them a party hat and a small confetti popper, with a grin and a small instruction ‘On my signal, pop that thing and put on the hat.’
Class started with little fanfare, a quick review of what they did yesterday and an overview for what was coming today.
“Questions?” Ms. Rosales said, turning from the board to the class. Tommy raised his hand. Ms. Rosales looked relieved to have what she thought to be the normal Tommy back.
“Yes, Tommy?” She replied to his hand.
“Well, it’s not so much of a question, more of a comment.” He spoke.
“Oh, that’s fine. What’s up?” She said leaning against the board behind her.
“Happy Birthday.” He simply stated; he and the class began pulling out party hats and kids started sending off their confetti poppers. While that was going on Tommy pulled out a confetti cannon out of his backpack and with one loud bang, the class and everyone in it was covered in small paper pieces. And everyone was grinning at the oddity of it because who doesn’t love confetti? Well, everyone except for a very, very pissed off Ms. Rosales. Who had stood there at the front of the classroom and watched as it went into complete disarray. When the laughter and the grins were gone, and the confetti had settled to the floor she looked at Tommy
“Class is dismissed, Thomas Watson you’re staying here, we're going to have a nice chat.” She said in such a deadly calm voice that it froze him. Her eyes were locked on to him and her mouth was fixed into a tight frown.
A pit of dread began to form in Tommy’s stomach and pulled on his throat, making him feel sick. As the class filed out, party hats were taken off their heads and some pitiful smiles thrown his way; he sat in his chair staring anywhere but the front of the class where Ms. Rosales picked up the phone and made a call to the office. Speaking far too kindly for the murderous glare that had been on her face minutes prior. When she was done, she put the phone back into the receiver and looked at him.
“Grab your stuff, follow me, we're headed to the office.” She said tersely while walking to the door and opening it up and waiting for Tommy to gather his belongings and scramble to the front. And Tommy wasn’t nervous, he was a big man. Not at all. Nothing and nobody could scare him. They walked into the office and sat and waited in a room with a conference table and a clock that ticked louder than any other clock that Tommy had experienced. The silence was deafening as Ms. Rosales stared at Tommy and Tommy stared at the table. For a solid 328 ticks until the door swung open, revealing a slightly disheveled Phil. His green hoodie falling off his shoulder on one side as he looked around for his youngest son. His eyes wide and Tommy is sure that if he had the courage to look down he would see two different shoes.
“Tommy, mate. Are you okay, the lady on the phone said there was an incident in the classroom? You’re not hurt, are you?” He said, his voice a mixture of confusion and worry.
“He’s fine, Mr. Watson, he was actually the one to cause the incident in the classroom today, as well as the two days prior to this one.” Ms. Rosales replied, effectively calming down his father and then stressing him out all over again.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I assure you we will be talking about this when we get home.” He said to her before turning to Tommy, “Seriously, mate, we talked about this, I told you not to start anything.”
“Actually, this works out because I have been meaning to contact you anyways. Please feel free to have a seat.” She spoke, taking a seat opposite to Tommy and gesturing to the seats around the table. Phil looked around at the table before taking a seat next to Tommy.
“Oh yeah, sure Miss...?”
“Ms. Rosales, but you can also call me Kristin.” She finished for him. A look of surprise and then recognition flashed on his face and then finally understanding. Oh no.
“Right, Ms. Rosales. I have heard a lot ‘bout you, you seem to be one of Tommy’s favorite classes at the moment, you are all he ever seems to talk about at the dinner table.” His father said trying to calm the storm that Tommy made, hoping that he wasn’t going to get suspended.
“Yes, He has been wonderful in class, he has been asking many wonderful questions and answering them just as much. He has been a model student, which is why I was so shocked and even worried when he started to have rather explosive outbursts. I was wondering if there was anything going on that could be causing this type of behavior?” she said, slight sadness in her tone. There was that lovely golden-yellow that made Tommy feel warm inside.
“No, not that I can think of off the top of my head. He has always been a little chaotic and out of control, but I think that also has to do with the fact that it’s only me and my boys in the house.” His father replied.
“Only you and your boys?” She asked, following up quickly with, “Sorry, I was just certain that a man like you would be married.” She blushed slightly. Tommy grinned while looking down at the table. It was working.
“Oh no. I have never been married. I fostered this one when he was about seven and adopted him when he turned eight.” His father said ruffling his hair slightly. As she smiled at the pair.
“Oh, that is so sweet. I didn’t know that he was adopted.” She replied. And then the conversation really kicked up. They started to talk about their family and what it was like while Tommy was growing up. And what they liked to do as a family and then it shifted to hobbies, how Techno loved Greek mythology and Wilbur loved music.
“And what about you? Surely, Ms. Rosales, you have something that you like to do in your free time?” His father questioned, his chuckle slowly fading after telling her a story about the time that Techno chased Wilbur around the house for a week, practicing war techniques from The Art of War that he had gotten on his 15th birthday.
“Call me Kristin, I like to do a lot of things, far too many to talk about now. The school is pretty much closing for the night. But, perhaps, over a coffee, maybe this weekend, we could talk about it more.” She said, her smile going from a bright one to one that seemed shyer.
“I would love that. How does Saturday morning work? Let’s say nine o’clock at The Firefly Coffeehouse on Birmingham and 12th?” he asked as they got up from their chairs. And walked towards the door.
“That would be lovely. I will see you there, Mr. Watson.” She said., making her way out of the doorway.
“Please, call me Phil.” He replied.
“That would be lovely… Phil.” She spoke back, a light blush on her cheeks before turning and walking down the hallway towards her classroom.
“Coral.” Tommy simply stated a grin on his face as he watched his dad watch Kristin walk down the hallway.
“Grounded.” His father replied, as he pushed him out to the front door and to the car. But, he couldn’t really hide the small smile that was on his face the entire ride home. That’s when Tommy knew he was right.
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For anyone who is curious, these are about what their main colors look like.
#3b438a for Philza
#4d0004 for Wilbur
#2b7537 for Techno
#80ad81 and #ff9933 for Tubbo
#f88379 for Kristin
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Edit made on September 5, 2021: Techno had a color change. It was weird. This doesn't happen often. It was while I was watching his video where he talked about his diagnosis.