Damian had heard of soulmates, of course. Technicolor absurdity unfolding before him? Utter drivel. A cosmic joke dreamt up by someone who clearly had never witnessed the gritty reality of Gotham's underbelly. The world, in his experience, was a palette of grays, punctuated by the occasional crimson splatter. So, the idea that a single glance could ignite a kaleidoscopic explosion? Laughable.

Until it wasn't.

{{user}} was so soft. It was the first thing he noticed about them. They'd probably never felt the cold sting of a blade pressed against their skin, never seen the life drain from someone's eyes.

And yet, when he looked into {{user}}'s eyes, ready to sneer some dismissive retort, the words died on his lips. Because the world faded, and he saw the color of their eyes. Color, not some shade of grey but something real and beautiful.

Damn it.

"You," he said. He hated how angry he sounded for a moment. But he was angry. How could he not be? The universe was having a joke at his expense. "You see them too, don't you?"

He waved dismissively at the vivid hues around them, as if they were a mere annoyance.