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They say you only see life in color after you’ve found your soulmate. But Billie Joe’s been seeing in color his whole life—for as long as he could remember. His mother talks about when his family found out sometimes, about how, as a toddler, he had pointed out her freshly manicured nails and proudly told her they were the color red, much to everyone’s shock.
It wasn’t unheard of for someone to be able to see colors at such a young age, but it was harder on him growing up, especially since he wasn’t really sure if he had crossed paths with his soulmate somehow, somewhere, before he was capable of forming long-term memories and simply didn’t know who his soulmate was—or if he just didn’t have one altogether.
That’s why when he met Mike at eleven years old, they quickly became the best of friends because Mike saw the colors too. And he finally had someone who could understand him on a level no one else could. Because Mike knew exactly what Billie Joe was going through—having met his soulmate—without actually meeting his soulmate—or being apart of the lucky one percent of the population that simply didn’t have one. But Mike was always adamant he had a soulmate—he was always optimistic like that.
And for Mike’s sake, he hoped that Mike was correct in his assumptions, but all the same, he always hoped he was wrong, in fear Mike might somehow find his soulmate and not need Billie Joe anymore.
At fifteen, they were inseparable, always together playing video games, listening to music, just laying around together in silence—things only ever felt right when Billie Joe was around Mike. It wasn’t a new feeling by any means; Mike always felt like home.
It was around Billie’s sixteenth birthday that he noticed the colors of his vibrant world beginning to shift. Particularly in Mike’s presence, it was like Mike had a technicolor glow to him that Billie Joe couldn’t pull his eyes away from. He would often catch himself staring at Mike, just in awe of the sheer vibrancy of the other boy.
Today, they were lying on Billie’s bed, spending their Saturday listening to one of the new CD albums Mike had picked up from the discount bin at their local record store. It was chilly outside, and Mike had arrived at his house with flushed cheeks and tousled dirty blonde hair from the cold wind. For a moment—after Billie Joe had opened the front door of his family home—he had stood frozen—captivated by the way the sunlight danced in Mike’s hair and the sudden glow around his body that had appeared in recent months, illuminating the colors around him even more vividly. Technicolor prisms cast an almost heavenly halo around Mike’s tall, lanky form.
It was like he was constantly being star struck by Mike. The way Mike’s laughter seemed to ripple through the air, casting a warmth that chased away the chill of the day. It was a sound that made Billie Joe’s heart race, resonating deep within him, filling the room with a golden light. The way his blue eyes seemed so bright, clear, and glistened in the light, like when the sun shines onto the bay.
As they lay sprawled on Billie’s twin bed, the soft strumming of the guitar from the CD enveloped them, creating a warm atmosphere of familiarity and comfort. Billie Joe couldn’t help but steal glances at Mike, who lay beside him, eyes closed, lost in the music. The way the light caught Mike’s features made him look almost ethereal, each color around him more vibrant than ever.
Rainbow, iridescent hues dancing around his entire being—lighting up Billie’s dingy attic bedroom, the little light shining through the little rectangular window a few feet from his bed seemed to attach itself to Mike, like a spotlight, exposing the sparkling galaxy of dust that was settling around his sprawled-out frame on Billie’s dark green bedding.
“Hey, what do you think of this one?” Mike asked, opening his eyes and breaking the spell. His voice was casual, but Billie could sense something beneath it—an eagerness, a spark; Mike valued his opinion in ways no one had ever before.
“It’s really good,” Billie replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice trembled slightly. “It’s.. energetic.” Billie Joe lied through his teeth, hoping Mike didn’t see through his lie—he hadn’t been paying attention to the music, too busy looking at Mike as he lay comfortably on his back, eyes closed.
Mike nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “Exactly! Like it’s alive. That’s what I love about music. It’s like you can feel the colors in it, you know?”
Billie Joe felt a rush of warmth at the way Mike articulated things—how effortlessly he understood the world in a way that felt so aligned with his own perceptions. “Yeah, like... like the songs are painting a picture.” They fell into a comfortable silence again, the music washing over them. Billie Joe cast one more fleeting look at Mike—willingly being blinded by the technicolor shadows that followed Mike’s every movement.
“Have you ever thought about... I don’t know… what it means to find your soulmate?” Billie Joe ventured, his heart racing at the boldness of the question. Staring up at the many posters he had tacked to his walls and ceiling, a night of the living dead poster stared back at him. Its bright green glowing font glaring back at him—like it was challenging him for being able to see colors before all of his peers—highlighting all the feelings that came with such a challenge, the feeling that he was a defect—he got to see the world in color, but only because he wasn’t meant to experience a soulmate.
Mike turned to him, surprise flickering across his face. “Sometimes... everyone says it’s life-changing when you start to see colors for the first time.” His voice took on a serious but thoughtful tone. It was one Billie was familiar with; Mike was always so adamant that everyone had a soulmate—regardless of what they were told about the one percent who didn’t.
Billie nodded, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. “But what if you see them all the time? What if you’ve always seen them? Do you think things look different when you’re around your soulmate?” It was a question that had been nagging at him for a while: if he did have a soulmate—how was he supposed to find them?
Mike’s brow furrowed slightly, as if he were piecing together a puzzle. “Maybe... my mom says there’s like this glow around your soulmate after you see color for the first time.” The words hung heavy in the air, and Billie Joe’s breath caught. It felt like everything had shifted, the colors around them swirling more intensely, as if the universe was urging him to acknowledge what was already there.
Billie Joe turned to Mike, searching his friend’s eyes for something—recognition, maybe, or a hint of the truth that had danced at the edges of his consciousness for so long. “What if…” he began, hesitating as his heart raced. “What if that glow is already here? Like, what if I’m seeing it now?”
Mike’s expression shifted, his brows knitting together in concentration again. “You mean… with me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” Billie Joe said, feeling a mix of fear and exhilaration. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like… you’re different. Brighter. Like every time I look at you, it’s like the colors around you just explode.”
A moment of silence enveloped them, thick with unspoken words. Mike shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, the sparkling jet stream of dust shifting around his frame in the sunlight. “You’re not just saying that, are you? You really feel it?”
Billie Joe swallowed hard, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. “I do. And I don’t know what it means. But it feels like… like something… it’s different somehow, I can’t really explain.”
Mike’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were holding back a smile. “Maybe we’re supposed to find each other,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice washing over Billie Joe like a wave.
“Maybe,” Billie Joe replied, his heart pounding. The air between them felt charged, alive with the potential of what lay ahead. “I just—”
Before he could finish, Mike’s gaze found his again, searching and questioning. “So, you think… we’re soulmates?” His voice sounded hopeful, in a familiar but altogether new way.
Billie Joe felt the weight of Mike’s question settle heavily between them, a mixture of excitement and trepidation swirling in his chest. “I think… it’s possible,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It would explain so much. The way I feel when I’m with you. It’s like… I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.”
Mike’s eyes widened, a mixture of disbelief and hope dancing across his features. “You really think we could be?”
“Yeah,” Billie Joe replied, feeling a surge of courage. “I mean, every time I’m around you, it’s like the world shifts. I see things differently—more vividly. Like you’re the missing piece I didn’t know I needed.”
Mike smiled, a genuine, bright smile that lit up the room—and Billie’s chest hurt with how much brighter the glow around Mike seemed to appear. “That’s how I feel too. It’s like, you get me in a way no one else does. I’ve always thought we were connected somehow.”
Billie’s heart raced, emboldened by the realization that Mike felt the same way. “So what do we do about it?” he asked, uncertainty creeping in.
“I don’t know…” Mike trailed off before silence fell over them once more. Billie wasn’t too concerned—Mike needed time to think over his words sometimes—he would talk once he worked through whatever it was in his head. No longer anticipating an immediate response, Billie Joe settled back into the music as the CD Mike was playing him cycled back through to the first track.
Billie slowly laid back down on the bed next to Mike, focusing his attention back on the ceiling, unsure about where everything was going. “Do you remember the first time we met?” Mike asked, breaking the silence. Billie rolled his head over to see a nostalgic smile tugging at his best friend’s lips.
“Of course,” Billie said, a giggle escaping him. “How could I forget? You knocked your tray of food all over me; I thought you were going to die of embarrassment.” Billie Joe laughed.
Mike laughed, a sound that made Billie Joe’s heart swell. “Yeah, I wanted to crawl into a hole. But then you just grinned at me like it was the funniest thing ever. I felt like I’d known you forever.” Mike kept his gaze on the ceiling, while Billie Joe admired his side profile.
“Same,” Billie Joe replied, warmth flooding his chest. “It was like… instantly, I had a friend who understood me. Who saw the world like I did.”
Mike sighed, and suddenly his voice took on a dream-like quality to it. “I think that was the moment,” Mike said softly. “I think we were meant to meet, like it was fate.” Billie Joe felt a shiver run down his spine at Mike’s words as Mike rolled his head to look directly at Billie Joe. “I want to find out what that means. Together, do you want that too?”
With that final statement, the atmosphere shifted again, charged with a new kind of energy. Billie Joe could feel the colors around them swirling with possibility, vibrant and alive, echoing the bond they were beginning to acknowledge. He leaned back against the pillows, the music wrapping around them like a comforting embrace.
“I want that too.” Billie whispered. For the first time, he felt ready to explore this new chapter with Mike by his side. As the song continued to play, Billie Joe knew they were standing on the edge of something beautiful, waiting to unfold in technicolor brilliance.