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jaetaimjadore · 3 years

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Illumination | mk.l [1] (discontinued)

Pairing: Mark Lee x reader

Genre: fluff, angst, soulmates, the world is black and white until you encounter your soulmate, born with your soulmate’s first word tattooed to your body, medical student!AU

Warnings: profanity, slowburn, reader’s initially morally questionable choices, made-up/unrealistic depiction of college life, members aged up/down, food

Word Count: 10.9k

‣ Chapter Synopsis: Your life so far has consisted of four things: black, white, grey, and blue. The black, white and grey part was all well and good, but the blue…let’s just say that colour is a real pain in your ass arm.

Parts: [Blue] [It's Complicated] (ongoing)

Author's Note: *gasp* ok, ok, ok I finally did it. I finally released the first chapter of Illumination, I'm shaking AAAAAA. This chapter is a precursor for context purposes – a backstory if you will (but not a prologue, idek it's kinda complicated) – and will provide the essential information to understand the plot in future chapters. This is my first fanfic ever, so I really hope you enjoy it!!!

Taglist: @wordholic @m1ss-foodi3 @skye-is-here @marksquare @serenity-17 @yyangcoffee @allmylove2chenji @toxicenough

request or dm to be added to taglist <3

PART 1: Blue

You huff, flopping down dramatically amongst the scattered papers on your dishevelled bed, the assortment of rustling sounds loud enough to travel through the phone your unoccupied hand presses to your ear.

“I’m just saying,” says the sickeningly sweet voice matter-of-factly over the speaker, sounding far more interested in whatever he was doing than the conversation at hand.

You drop the piece of paper clutched delicately in your other hand, letting it drift wherever the wind of your air conditioner allows. “Winwin, you’re this close to making me lose lose my mind.” You know he can’t see the way your thumb and forefinger pinch together to emphasise your point, but you do it nonetheless. With a groan you sit up, “You know I can’t apply for medicine without full colour vision. I mean, how would I medically treat a person without even being able to distinguish red from green?” You blink, adding with a mumble, “Whatever those colours even look like…”

After a short silent pause, you shake your head to yourself, bowing down as your voice thins into a demoralised hum. “It’s just not possible, Winwin. I guess I just need to accept that.” You glance towards the crook of your left elbow with knitted eyebrows, scanning each letter of the word etched into that part of your skin over and over again.

Blue

It's in a sort of pretty cursive font you’d always aspired to write in as a child – but never could, mind you – there it is, this word on, or rather, in your skin. And it’s the one thing that’s stopping you from achieving your dreams.

You’ve known of its existence as long as you’ve known yourself, stamped by its decree since you were brought into this world fresh from the womb; it could have even been there since you were inside for all you could tell. According to your mother’s apparent excellent memory, you had first noticed the mark when you were merely 10 weeks of age, probably around the time you discovered you had hands, she had told you with a chuckle.

By the age of two, you could speak the word without fault, having been coaxed into voicing it by your parents far too many times that it would’ve been worrying if you couldn’t. But it wasn’t until you were four-years-old, bouncy and lively in every which way a child of such age could be, that you'd understood it wasn’t simply just a few squiggly birthmarks on the inside of your arm; it was the age when you could finally read it and understand what it was and what it meant.

⋆⋆⋆

You and your mother were at the local beach, sat on the checked picnic rug in front of the vast ocean, the sun beating rays of heat against the little flower-patterned bucket hat sitting on your sand-ridden hair, while her hair flew beautifully along with the pleasant breeze.

You sit between your mum’s open legs, on top of her splayed-out sundress giggling as you poke her shiny sunglasses with a small pointer finger. “Baby, can you read this out for me?” Her fingers lightly tap the word on your arm. You nod enthusiastically, almost tipping the bucket hat out of its place if it weren't for her gentle hand.

“Buhhh…ulllll…oooo. BuhLOOO.” You crack a big, toothy grin, looking at your mother expectantly. She chuckles fondly, kissing your warm cheeks, cooing, “Yes! Blue! Good work, Y/n!” You grin even wider, feeling proud to make her happy. “Do you know what blue means?”

You shake your head.

“Blue is a colour,” she speaks softly, emphasising ‘colour’, earning a confused frown from you.

“Cuh-luhr?” You tilt your head in question, blinking round curious eyes up at her, causing her to smile. “Yes, colour. Colours are…” she pauses, contemplating her words to fit her four-year-old’s limited vocabulary, “Colours are like your feelings. When you feel happy you might feel the colour yellow.”

“Yehlow,” you sound out, nodding your head along with each syllable.

“Yes, that’s it, yellow! And when you feel angry-” she pouts with knitted eyebrows, feigning anger, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles, “-you might feel the colour red.”

“Red," you pout too, imitating the emotion, before an idea pops into your head, eyes lighting up in thought. “Momma, momma, what about buhloo?”

This causes her to still for a moment, looking up through the corner of her eyes in thought. “Hmm, blue can be whatever you want it to be, baby. You might feel happy or sad…or excited.” She brings her fingers up to your sides and starts ticking you until you gleefully drop back against the rug, flailing around before being attacked with innumerable fluttering kisses.

⋆⋆⋆

“You know, staring at it won’t make it go away…or make you feel any better, Y/n,” Winwin tsks over the phone, causing you to snap out of your dazed reverie with comically wide eyes and a magically straightening posture.

“What? How’d you know I was looking at it?” The bemused tone in your voice earns you a scoff from the boy in your ears. “Uhh, because I’m your best friend and you always look at it," he speaks with a flat tone.

Deflating, you sigh in defeat. “Touché.” You turn your neck around to take in the horrendous sight of your messy bed once again, hastily gathering the papers in a makeshift pile before continuing, “My point being, I can’t just apply for the course by lying about my illumination, because A: that’s just morally wrong, and I’m not that kind of person, and B: they’re gonna find out anyway when I can’t tell apart basic dipstick colours. I’m just saying.” You quote your best friend’s words from earlier with a grin and a mental mic drop…although you’re not quite sure why you’re so proud of yourself when you’ve single-handedly argued against getting into the course of your dreams.

“Whatever you say, bubbles, but take it from me – someone who can tell apart dipstick shades – you’re gonna meet your soulmate sooner or later. I mean, I did, and that’s gotta mean something, so surely you’ll meet yours soon." he pauses, half expecting you to interject his little speech, but to his surprise, you don’t.

“Look, you’ve nailed your pre-recs and you passed your finals with flying colours not even a month ago...no pun intended."

You snort at the remark.

"Y/n, you’ve practically already been accepted in Neo Central’s clinical program. Are you really gonna throw this all away in despair? Over that goddamn tattoo?" Winwin pauses, hesitating. "What happened to us getting into med school together?” He almost sulks over the phone and you find yourself frowning, feeling guilty as ever.

You did promise each other you’d both work hard throughout high school to achieve results that would get you into med school without a hitch. And work hard you did, studying together in the library often till midnight, waking up early to fit in that extra little bit of revision. Racking your brains for the answers until you had that beloved lightbulb moment. You endured it all together.

And the efforts definitely payed off, both of you being among the top achievers of your grade; Winwin even earning the dux award in grades 11 and 12, which you couldn’t be prouder of.

In a way, you suppose you’re obligated to him for being by your side through some of the toughest years of your life so far, but your situation wasn’t exactly allowing for decent recompense on your part.

Maybe I could try applying…

You bite your lip in thought, entertaining the idea briefly before shaking it away.

No, it’s wrong, and even if I got accepted, I wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt

Sighing with a devastated expression, you reply, “Sicheng, I know…and I’m really sorry. But I thought I would’ve had my illumination by the time college applications were due.” You place the pile of papers onto your nightstand and lie back properly against your pillows. “And for the last time, please stop calling me bubbles.”

Bubble

Six letters, two syllables, and one utterly ridiculous word.

But it was your utterly ridiculous first word. Go figure.

This was yet another word of significance in your life, and you’d only come to know why by the age of eight; the age when you also fully understood what the peculiar little word in the crook of your elbow truly meant for you.

⋆⋆⋆

“Wait, so this-” you point at the word on your straightened arm, showing it to your parents who busy themselves with the night’s work in the kitchen, “-is my soulmate’s first word?” You scrunch your nose, almost disgusted with what they’d just told you.

“Yes,” both your parents speak in unison, both glancing up at you for a second, before resuming their chores, you blinking up at them obliviously. “Whaaaat?” your face screws ever tighter as you drag out the word, looking back to your arm in confusion before flopping it down to your side, shrugging, “I don’t get it.”

Your dad dries his hands on a dishcloth before walking around the island and patting one of the bar stools, pointing his chin toward it for you to saunter over and struggle to sit upon by yourself. “Do you remember what your first word was, love?” he asks.

“That’s easy, bubble,” you reply simply.

“Exactly,” he smiles, “Just like you had your first word – bubble – someone else had theirs, and that’s blue.” He unfolds your crossed arms and points at the word. “And just like you have that special person’s first word on your arm, that special person also has this special person’s first word on their arm,” he playfully taps at your cheek, his words causing you to smile, even letting out a tiny giggle at being called special.

“Soooo, someone else has bubble on their arm? In the same place?” you ask, starting to get invested after grasping the gist.

“Yes," your mother interjects blithely, joining you and your father on the other side of the kitchen island after finishing her work with the dishes. “And guess what?” She bends down to your face level and whispers, causing you to perk up in hopes of listening in on a potential secret. “WHAT?” You absentmindedly whisper-shout, earning a few chuckles from your parents.

“Mum and dad have matching marks too,” she smiles, watching as your eyes widen and a dramatic gasp falls past your now ‘o’ shaped lips. “Can I see?” You ask, eyes lighting up in fascination and excitement.

They share a soft look with one another, nodding to you before looking down at their feet, your gaze following. Etched on the inside of both of their right ankles are the words cat - on your mother's ankle - and ball - on your father's.

The sight sends another loud gasp tumbling from your lips. “Woooow,” you look up at them with stars in your eyes, as they smile brightly back.

“Do you remember your colours?” your dad chuckles.

You eagerly nod in response. “Yes! Yellow means happy, but the sun and bananas are yellow too, I just can’t see it yet. Red means angry, but apples and love hearts are red toooo!” You shape your hands into a heart and push it out from your chest towards your parents, before dropping it with a huff. “But I can’t see red yet either." Your mum responds by reaching forward and stroking your head as you continue. “Blue is the colour of the sky and the sea…oooo and this is blue too!” You excitedly point to the word on your arm, recalling your mother describing its deep blue tint to you not too long ago.

You’ve learnt a lot for a child of your age, always the inquisitive type, never hesitating to ask the colour of every little grey object that caught your eye, and making sure to recite the colour without fail. One might say this was further provoked by the day one of your friends came screaming to you that she could see colour.

It made you curious and perhaps even a little envious in every essence of your eight-year-old self – though you’d never admit it aloud.

Your friend had mentioned a funny word that you couldn’t quite remember. Ilima…minli…alima…what was it?

“Don't worry, lovely, you’ll be able to see colours soon.” Your mother winks at you.

“When?” you flick your gaze back and forth between your parents in wonder.

“Well, when you meet the special person whose first word was blue,” your dad starts, tapping the tattoo, “That’s when you’ll see colours.”

“It’s called your illumination.” Your mum pronounces the word distinctly, and you repeat it back once, twice, seven times, however long as it takes for you to remember it.

⋆⋆⋆

“Alright, bubbles, just know that I support whatever decision you choose,” Winwin chimes into your ear drums, yawning loudly through the speaker.

“Thanks, Win,” you smile, feeling a comforting warmth spread through your chest.

He seriously is the best, you really don’t deserve hi-

“-no matter how stupid I think it is.”

Scratch that.

You roll your eyes, “Ok ding dong, get some rest, you obviously need it.”

“Night bubbl-“

“Don’t. Call. Me. Bubbles,” you cut Winwin off, grumbling, “Good night.”

You end the call and drop the phone on your chest lightly, sighing for the nth time that night and turning to face your laptop on the other side of the room. Its light is bright and inviting as far as the average unilluminated eye could tell, coaxing you to reluctantly swing your feet over the edge of your bed and drag yourself to sit on the leather chair in front it.

Typing in your password on the keyboard, you manoeuvre and click the trackpad to a document saved on your desktop, eventually met face-to-face with a college application.

The college application. Not the other irrelevant ones you’d already filled out, emailed, and had interviews for; those don’t really matter, even though you suppose they should.

This application however, was the one that was supposed to be securing your admission into Neo Central College, the college with the most prestigious medicine program of them all. This application is in tip-top shape; already filled with words from top to bottom just in case your soulmate decides to show up last minute.

It’s right in front of you, all ready to be emailed through, to be read and commended and accepted by the college of your dreams.

You look back to your arm and the action quite ironically bursts your bubble. Here this damned tattoo sits, mocking everything you’ve ever worked for, stopping you from reaching the one thing you’ve always wanted. You sit there in silence staring back and forth between the the application and your tattoo, swivelling around every once in a while in your chair, blowing away loose strands of hair every couple minutes. You think and wallow in a deadly cycle, recalling Winwin’s words from earlier.

"Are you really going to throw this away?"

Well, am I? you think to yourself. But do I really have a choice in the matter?

Your internal struggle causes you to stand up and start pacing around your room, feet tapping unrhythmically and teeth gnawing at your lips.

Is this what I want? You try to reason with yourself. It’s still not too late to apply to NCC, admissions don’t close for another month.

Surely you wouldn't let Winwin down, right? It’s the least you could do not to. Right?

A buzz from your phone startles you, luring you toward your bed to read the message:

Loselose [10:36pm]: My interview’s in a couple weeks…you better wish me luck whether you decide to apply or not 🔪🔪🔪

You grimace at the text, dropping your head back to face the ceiling, feeling even worse now that the words are displayed in front of you.

How nice it must have been for him to have found his soulmate and be able to see the world in colour. You’re happy for him, you truly are, but that was supposed to be you too. You and him together.

Loselose [10:37pm]: I know you’ve already filled that application out

Loselose [10:37pm]: It’s still not too late to submit…if you want 🤷‍♂️

You simply blink.

If you want…

You eyes grow as big as saucers.

What the fuck, of course I want to! screams your slightly fogged up internal voice. Who cares if you haven’t had your illumination yet? This is your life, that you control; nobody and nothing else has the right to take that control away from you.

With this in mind, you dash back with long strides to your laptop, an empowering newfound energy coursing through your veins, instigated from Winwin’s confronting text. With shaking hands, you open up your mailbox, dragging the application file into the already drafted email, and hitting send.

Email sent.

You flop back into your chair, pushing it back slightly from the desk while releasing a deep breath you frankly weren’t aware you were holding in the first place.

Well, that was fast.

You start to feel light-headed.

I mean, I’ve got the grades. Again, starts your pious self-talk. And I’ve got the pre-requisites, and the extra credits. Worst case scenario, they discover my non-existent illumination…but surely they won’t kick me out of the medical program once I get in, right? What could go wrong?

What could possibly go wrong?

Mark Lee’s first word was blue.

So weird he’s always thought, still can’t bring himself to understand how it‘s even possible for a baby to speak a word as phonetically complex as that. He'd come to accept it eventually after his mother’s incessant convincing over the years that she swore she heard him babble it when he was an eleven-month-old infant.

It was undoubtedly a weird first word, however, not the least in a bad way.

Though Mark hasn’t ever seen anything remotely blue in his eighteen years and two months of existence – can't see anything other than black, white and grey for that matter – blue is in fact, his favourite colour. And if someone were to ask him how he came to that conclusion without his illumination, he wouldn’t dare tell them that it’s been his favourite colour ever since his mother told him what colours were in the first place.

He just feels it, likes the vibe, flows with it. He’s drawn to the enigma surrounding the word blue; how he’s been told before that the sea and the sky are both coincidentally blue. That underneath all those dull monochrome hues, the two most vast and boring plains to exist, are perhaps not so boring and plain in another person’s reality.

The ocean waves which Mark can only describe as an assorted palette of greys, whites and blacks, is, in fact, the same beautiful rolling sapphire silk to the average illuminated folk. The sky Mark walks beneath, most often a dull mid-toned grey – perhaps whitish on the best days, darkish on the worst – is the same sky luckier people would spend hours admiring; waking up at the crack of dawn to watch the dulcet sunrise, a white ball too bright for its own good, or so Mark would describe it as.

These are things he can’t even begin to imagine. After all, he can only be acquainted with the life he’s so far lead, and it is the most dull, plain and monotonous notion to have ever graced his conscience. Nonetheless, the possibilities lying in the palm of Mark's future, pique his curiosity. But he knows all too well what happened to the curious cat, so that's exactly where he reluctantly chooses to draw the line.

The truth is, he wants to witness colour. Desperately. But he knows that to witness any sort of blue, green, red, or yellow he must undergo his illumination. He must meet the one.

His one.

And that's where Mark's main issue stems from; he really can’t care less about his one.

Fuck that he often says, absentmindedly glancing down at the ink etched into the crook of his left elbow every time the thought pops into his head. He wasn’t born with the word inked into his skin like some of his childhood friends were, it simply faded into existence when he was about four months old, or so his mother had professed to him more than enough times his poor ears could handle.

Bubble

That’s what the letters spell, written in a fancy font that most girls in his classes would compliment as aesthetic.

But Mark hates it with all his being.

What a stupid word.

⋆⋆⋆

“Renjun, Jaemin, do you have a favourite colour?” Mark asks his friends as they sit side by side on their regular stone bench, shaded from the blaring sun by the swaying leaves of the tall tree up above.

Mark sits to the very left of the two boys, face scrunched while roughly tugging at the jammed zipper of his Spiderman lunchbox. Renjun – who sits in the middle – promptly snatches it, returning it to Mark unjammed and open, displaying his sandwich packaged neatly in cling wrap.

“Thanks, Jun,” Mark replies, ever the well-mannered boy despite his often-troublesome tendencies.

Taking his sandwich out, he immediately frowns with a small humph.

Tuna coleslaw; eight-year-old Mark’s worst nightmare.

Yuck!

Sniffing something a little more delicious, Mark cranes his neck forward, eyes landing straight upon the source; Jaemin's egg and bacon sandwich. He feels his mouth start to water watching his friend chew away happily.

In Mark’s defence, that sandwich would also look way yummier to any other eight-year-old holding a tuna coleslaw sandwich.

Jaemin catches Mark’s more-than-eager stare, pausing mid chew and pulling his sandwich closer to his chest possessively. Mark’s pout etches itself a little deeper across his puerile features as he sulkily bites into his tuna coleslaw sandwich.

“Ugh, fine,” Mark perks up as Jaemin's red Nike Air Forces step into view, “Here,” he holds his sandwich out to Mark, nodding for him to take a bite.

Never before had one seen a little boy light up with such joy, as Mark smiles widely, revealing two gaps from the two milk teeth that fell out a couple weeks prior. He gratefully takes a bite – not too big a bite though; he wouldn’t have liked it if Jaemin ate a third of his own egg and bacon sandwich in one fell swoop, so he wouldn’t do that to Jaemin either.

“Dankoo daemin,” he beams with two cheeks full of the delectable sandwich, crumbs decorating the corners of his more than satisfied smile. Renjun giggles looking at Mark’s ridiculous face, poking his puffed-out cheek. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Jaemin dismisses, bowing his head to smile widely in hopes nobody sees it. Both Mark and Renjun see it.

A thought suddenly pops into Mark’s head. “You guys didn’t answer my question," he points out.

“What question?” Renjun asks, eyes wide and sparkling as a small breeze flicks up a lock of his dark brown hair. Mark huffs at the sincerity written on Renjun’s face, repeating, “Do you have a favourite colour?”

“I don’t know what colours look like," Jaemin chimes in, scoffing down the last of his lunch, “I haven’t met my soulmate yet.”

“Me too,” Says Renjun, indifferently. “But I don’t care. Girls have cooties-”

“-my favourite colour is blue,” Mark ignores them, interjecting his own statement, hellbent on boasting the little fact. His two friends turn their heads toward him simultaneously.

“You can see colours?” Renjun asks, somehow more invested now that his friend could apparently see the world through a different lens.

“Yep,” Mark grins ear to ear, proudly tilting his chin to the air.

In all honesty, Mark can't see colours. His world is just as boring and dull as Jaemin and Renjun’s probably is, or maybe even more. This little boy just wants a little attention to himself, a juvenile selfishness instilled in almost any child of his age. Telling a little white lie couldn’t hurt, right?

Wrong.

“Liar,” Mark’s head whips around to see Jax, the boy nobody dared mess with in third grade, walking around to the little bench and standing tall in front of Mark’s small frame. He already had his illumination, and that made him all the more intimidating.

Though Jax only speaks the truth, Mark doesn’t back down, his immature little pouch of pride willing him to argue back, smile dropping into a furrowed expression as he yells. “I’m not lying!”

“Prove it then,” Jax says. “Show me what…” he looks around, eyes lighting up when they land on Mark’s tattoo. “Tell us what colour your mark is.”

Mark’s eyes follow Jax’s gaze to his very grey, very colourless tattoo; Bubble.

He hesitates, trying to logically solve the colour.

Bubbles are made from water and soap; water is blue...but soap is pink…that doesn't many any sense!

Suddenly aware of his slouching posture, Mark straightens his back and stands up, feigning confidence. The top of his head only reaches Jax’s mouth, so he lifts his chin a little higher.

“That’s easy, it’s blue,” he speaks, hoping he comes across more confident that sceptic. He went with blue since there’s more water than soap in bubble mixture; it makes sense so it simply had to be blue.

Blue is the colour of the sea and the sky. Blue is also Mark’s favourite colour. There were simply too many blue things in the world for the tattoo on his arm not to be blue.

⋆⋆⋆

Needless to say Mark's tattoo wasn't blue.

He became the third grade’s laughingstock, earning an earful of malicious laughter and teasing for upwards of two weeks. He’s never been able to let the incident go ever since.

Orange, it was orange. Not blue.

Orange.

He should’ve known, given its lighter grey complexion compared to Jaemin and Renjun’s tattoos, and he’d be damned if he ever forgot it.

Bubble

Right now, sitting in his room, on his bed with his hands so close to ripping out his head of bed hair, Mark wishes nothing more than to erase this word from existence.

“Shit.” He curses, hastily reading over the words on his laptop again and again.

Illumination: Required

“Ah, fuck," he throws his head down into his hands.

How did this happen?

How did he miss this after reading through the application requirements at least thirty times over? How did he miss it the dozen times he read through it before he sent the application? How did he miss it the dozen times he read through it after he sent the application?

Of course, he didn’t do it intentionally…he just missed it.

But how?

Mark looks up at his laptop once again, ripping his glasses off and blinking his eyes shut for ten seconds, willing for this nightmare to end once he opened them back up.

Illumination: Required

It's still there.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he drawls out tossing the glasses somewhere across the room, running his hands down his face and rubbing his eyes as he falls back against his unmade duvet. “Fuck you,” he mumbles into his palms, not in the correct frame of mind to distinguish who or what exactly it was directed at…probably the six-letter death wish on his arm.

There goes his shot at landing NCC’s undergrad medical program, blowing up right before his eyes.

He had sent in his application almost two weeks ago, confident and ready as he’d ever be.He’d worked for this. He worked hard for this.

Though he hadn’t cared much for his studies as a child, Mark had grown to be a naturally bright young man; some might have called him gifted. That being said, he didn’t boast his natural smarts, and he didn’t rely solely on them too. He put in extra efforts in high school to get himself where he is now. All he had to do was nail the interview, and the world would be his stage.

Mark groans.

So much for that.

He smacks the tattoo on his left arm in anger. It was all because of this. No way in hell is he getting an acceptance email-

The shrill ring of Mark’s phone from his desk startles him back to a seated position on his bed. He sighs and sullenly trudges his way to pick it up, glancing briefly at the caller ID.

God, I really need to lower my ringer.

Displayed is some unknown number, but still within the country given the dial code. He picks up the call and holds the phone to his ear, waiting for a voice to speak up over the line; he’s heard far too many horror stories about scammers that can track voices, vouching never to speak up first on calls with strangers.

“Hello? Is this Mr Mark Lee?”

He perks up at the almost robotic female voice that speaks on the other side, clearing his throat silently.

“Yes, it is. Speaking?” he cautiously answers.

“This is Tiffany Young from the Neo Central College admissions board.”

Mark’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open, suddenly feeling his heart rate pick up in his chest.

“Oh? O-oh, yes, ma’am!” he stutters, catching himself by the tongue before he blurts out anything stupid that could work against him. Grip on his phone faltering for a second, his second hand comes up to support it against his ear, not trusting himself.

Get it together, Mark.

He decides that sitting down in his chair would probably be the best way to get it together.

The lady – Ms Young – speaks up again. “I’m calling in regard to your college application for NCC’s medical program.” She pauses, expecting Mark to reply, though it takes him a moment to catch on.

“Oh...oh! Yes!” he squeezes his eyes shut, knocking his knuckles three times on the side of his head, face contorting into one of embarrassment and annoyance at himself and his atypically sputtering demeanour.

What the hell is happening?

“It was a privilege to read. You seem to be a promising student, Mr Lee.”

Mark covers his mouth to suppress what felt like a squeal as he felt it slowly rising up his throat. “Thank you, Ms Young.”

“You’re most welcome. You may know it is not typical that we call our applicants directly…” Oh no, he feels it coming. “…I understand you have not had your illumination as of yet.”

Mark gulps, feeling a shallow pit open in his chest, all the nerves shooting right out of his dispirited heart in anticipation. “Yes, ma’am,” speaks his timid voice, void of all the confidence it held not even a week ago.

“I hope you are aware an illumination is one of the requirements for this course. This was made explicitly clear in the requirements form issued prior to application submissions.”

Mark nods, more to himself than anyone else, repeating, “Yes ma’am," and though he can probably come up with at least a dozen convincing excuses as to why he still applied, he knows better than to rub salt in a wound, instead opting to hang his head low as he holds the phone to his ear and accept what the woman has to say.

He hears Tiffany sigh over the phone, feeling even worse for being such an oblivious fool. “Given your exemplary performance in school, along with your application, the admissions board has decided to overlook the mishap and offer you an interview opportunity.”

What, what?

Thank goodness Mark hadn’t decided to quench his parched throat with the water on his nightstand, because it would’ve splurged right at the phone instead. “HUH?” he blurts out, hand slapping over his mouth in embarrassment as soon as the word leaves his lips. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I-I don’t understand.” His eyebrows furrow as he pushes his ear into the screen of his phone.

How are they allowing this when they're aware he can’t see in colour? Isn’t that against the regulations?

“Congratulations, Mr Lee, Neo Central College has accepted your application, and would be pleased to meet you for an interview.”

Mark blinks, wide-eyed and dazed.

“I’ll take my leave now.”

He snaps out of it, almost shouting, “Yes! Thank-thank you, ma’am. Thank you so much!”

The line cuts, leaving a very stunned, very confused Mark Lee sitting at his desk, his hands once more rising to his hair; but this time to tug at his roots in shock.

“Holy mother of-“

“God, what am I doing,” you mutter to yourself quietly, hands fidgeting in your lap as you sit in the passenger seat of your mum’s car – more specifically her navy car…but you wouldn’t know either way since; You. Can’t. See. Colour.

You scoff at the thought.

It would be an understatement to say that today hasn’t been your day so far. In fact, today you didn’t just wake up on the wrong side of the bed – with about only 6 hours of sleep, by the way – but you woke up with a splitting headache AND an unusually bitter taste in your mouth.

Not pleasant in the least.

Still, you’ve learnt to take everything in this life with a grain of salt.

Besides, you’ve known no headache a dose of Nurofen couldn’t fix.

Maybe this was the universe’s way of saying a big FUCK YOU for applying to something you really shouldn’t have even considered applying to in the first place, given your circumstances.

But you’ve never been one to back down in the face of the universe and it’s wrath. Instead, you simply opted for sending both your middle fingers right up its big egotistical assho-

You’re startled out of your thoughts by your mother’s palm slamming down on the car horn, your body sent lurching forward – though saved by the oh-holy contraption called a seatbelt – as she rams her foot down on the break. Her hand hovers over your torso in protection as she quietly curses the reckless driver responsible for the ordeal.

You sit there still with your own hand pressed to your heart, breathing heavily in shock of what almost unfolded.

Yep, that’s a definite fuck you from the universe, alright.

“Darling, are you okay?” Your mother lets out a deep breath of her own, starting to drive again once she deems it safe enough.

“Peachy.” You reply anxiously, looking down at the dark folder in your lap, your heart rate refusing to slow down.

Despite knowing the potential consequence of you applying to NCC’s acclaimed medical course, your parents have both supported you from the beginning, having a similar take as Winwin to the whole situation, and rather encouraging you more than anything else to give it a shot since you never know what the world has in store for you when you least expect it.

By this point you think you’re more than acquainted with the world’s intentions for you, especially when you least expect it.

But…maybe there’s some truth in the matter. After all, you are on your way to the interview you thought you wouldn’t be accepted for. It’s a miracle how your non-existent illumination went unnoticed and unquestioned…as of yet.

Soon enough, you spot the familiar evergreen trees whose arrangement never fails to stun you stupid every time you’ve driven past them. However, this time you’re not driving past, but driving right down the road which they sway idly above, casting their shadow over your giddy features as you watch them wave their hearty hellos to you. Just beyond the trees you spot the student accommodation building, a proud array of grey and black tones visible through the branches which you could only assume look exquisitely colourful to those who can appreciate it.

When you catch a glimpse of the main NCC campus, you’re more awestruck than you’ve ever been. You spot a large, elegant water fountain at the entrance – spraying water at least five full metres high in precise routine – and you want nothing more than to jump head-first into the extravagant display. Behind the fountain is a long, angled row of steps – about ten from what you can see through the window – adorned by at least fifty people at a time walking up and down, most likely either on their way to, or back from their own interviews.

The stairs lead up to the tall, wide and dare you say, fashionable, looking main building with the big bold letters NCC built near the top. It was modern in every sense of the word; ever the classy and chic architecture with its tall, reflective glass windows and smooth, lightly coloured exterior. Ornamental pillars extend from the roof, meeting the walls midway to the ground.

It’s fabulous, to say the least.

You can only imagine what the interior of the building would look like.

Too busy staring at the architectural masterpiece, you don’t realise your mother has parked the car until she gently grabs your hand from your lap.

You turn to her with a nervous smile and nod, noticing the way her eyes tear up.

“Go kiss your frog, princess,” she smiles.

You burst out laughing at her unexpected dialogue. “What? Kiss my frog?” you ask in amusement between giggles, wiping at your mother’s cheek with a soft thumb.

She kisses your forehead. “Don’t be nervous, be frank and confident. You’re going to do amazingly.”

“Yes mum,” you nod, hearing those exact words for at least the sixth time today, “I will.” You click your seatbelt off, gripping the folder tightly before opening the car door and stepping out into the cool air while shrugging on your jacket.

“And Y/n,” you hear her call out, leaning over the passenger seat to see you better as you stand in front of the bright sun. You turn back around, waiting for her to continue, “Do smile, dear.”

That makes you crack a genuine, wide smile towards her, leaning back inside to peck her cheek. “Got it. Thanks, mum.”

Closing the door, you look down at your somewhat crumpled skirt from sitting in the car. With a tsk, you pat away the creases and tug it down slightly, before taking a deep breath and marching confidently to the entrance of Neo Central College.

“Winwin’s interview should be happening right about now,” you muse aloud, sending him blessings while you did. You decided to arrive an hour early in hopes to catch him before you went in yourself; seeing him would give you the energy boost you know you need.

In the meantime, you decide to simply stand around and stare.

At the fountain, at the building, at the people, at EVERYTHING.

Walking up the stairs along with the bustling crowd of young adults – your steps a little slower than others’ in your dazed reverie – you feel a certain comfort.

The ambience, the aura…it’s enticing.

Reaching the top step, you find your head dropping all the way back as you squint up towards the NCC logo previously seen from your car – not caring for the numerous stares and shoulder bumps you were receiving as a result of planting yourself smack in the middle of the busy walkway.

Suffice to say that everything was a lot bigger and taller now that you were standing right in front of it all.

Daunting, now that you really think about it.

You release a shaky breath and close your eyes, mind wandering to the one image you’ve dreamed of far too many times.

There you are, looking a smidge more mature than you are now, dressed in a black, mid-sleeved robe with a dark velvet sash resting around your shoulders. Although you can’t picture it, you know the sash is green; the representative colour for Medicine graduates…Neo Champagne Green.

A black square hat rests on your head with a tassel dangling off the right. Winwin stands to your left smiling at you as you smile right back, both holding your bachelor’s degrees wrapped in a ribbon that still looks pretty despite its grey colour.

A smile subconsciously stretches across your face at the pleasant scenario, eyes kept closed just to hold onto it for a little longer…just a little longer.

They’re gonna find out, I’m not gonna be accepted anyway.

Just as the thought manifests in your brain, you feel a sudden stab on your foot, face contorting in pain as a yelp leaves your mouth, stance faltering in your block sandals.

“Sorry.” Yells a distant voice, but you’re far too distracted to notice.

Your arms flail around, reaching out and grabbing the nearest stranger in attempt to balance yourself properly on your feet. As you feel the person’s hand quickly move to catch your back your eyes fly open.

You gasp.

To the third person, the scene would look like an awkward mishap they didn’t ever want to be involved in; you harshly gripping a random man’s forearm and staring dumbfoundedly as if he’s the one trying to make an advance…all this, for some peculiar reason, happening in the middle of a busy university entrance.

But you're seeing something VERY different.

Your eyes widen as you watch the stranger, a ripple making its way down his annoyed features, leaving behind an outrageously extravagant splash of…something all through his face.

This time both your mouth and eyebrows drop down together.

The man is young and handsome, but that’s all you’re able to discern as your head whips up to look at the sky behind his face. You gasp again, stumbling back a few steps as your hand lets go of his arm, flying up to cover your mouth instead.

It’s then that you notice your blurry thumb in your periphery, your eyes crossing down to stare at it against your cupid’s boy, head tilting in shock. You scramble to tuck your folder underneath your arm, before ripping your hands away and holding them in front of your face with your fingers spread wide, turning them back and forth in alarmed examination.

At this point, the pain in your foot is all but non-existent.

You spin around left and right on the spot, eyes landing on whatever and whoever coming into view.

Everyone – everything – looks like it has been dipped in…in…

Life.

You suddenly tug the left sleeve of your jacket up to your tricep, looking down at the marking on the inside of your elbow…now looking not-so-grey.

That’s when you realise;

HOLY FUCK, IS THIS MY ILLUMINATION!?!?

You pull down the sleeve and immediately turn around to apologise to the stranger from before – somehow expecting him to still be standing there, ready to listen to your impending coming-of-age dramatic monologue.

But he’s nowhere to be found.

“Y/n!” Hyperaware of your senses now, you abruptly turn back again towards the direction of the college building, looking for the owner of the voice while squinting as tall glass reflects the sun in your eyes. You see a familiar lean body wearing a formal jumper and black pants.

As he approaches you immediately recognise who it is.

“Winwin?” you ask, still squinting as he comes to a halt right in front of you.

“That’s the name,” he chuckles.

You look up at his face, your own features tensed as ever as your eyes travel around each contour glowing underneath the sun above; starting from his chin, to his lips and nose, his cheeks, ears, eyes, forehead, hair, and back down again.

So this is what a human really looks like

Finally, you look down at his very colourful hands clutching a single-coloured – though you can’t tell which colour – folder just like the one resting in your own very colourful hands, and you're immediately reminded of why you’re both here in the first place.

“Oh, right,” you shake your head subtly, blinking to yourself, before looking up at him again. “How was the interview?” You strew together a confused looking smile, eyebrows still subconsciously furrowed from the preceding epiphany.

Winwin turns his chin slightly to the side, eyes narrowing in on you. “The interview was fine…but are you?” He pushes his head forward with raised eyebrows in question, worriedly watching the distracted way your eyes travel across his arms as if there’s a snake wrapped around them. “Hey!” He snaps his thumb in front of you twice, watching amused as you’re dramatically startled back to reality. “What‘s wrong?”

Should I tell him?

I mean, the guy just came back from his interview, I probably shouldn’t tell hi-

“Ihadmyillumination,” you blurt out, looking Winwin dead in the eye to gauge his reaction, still unsure whether to categorise the happening as good or bad.

“WHAT?” he blurts back, earning a few glances from the endless hoard of passers-by. You huff looking around timidly as if you hadn’t just created an even bigger scene less than four minutes ago, speaking in a hushed tone. “I said, I had my-“

“I know, I heard you the first time,” he waves his hand in dismissal, grabbing you by both shoulders with a wide angelic smile, “Y/n, that’s great! When did it happen?”

Your stare ahead at his wide smile, pearly looking teeth on display.

Those are definitely white

“Just now,” you utter trying to get used to this big bang in your life called colour.

“Now?” he questions, to which you nod in response. “Who’s the soulmate then?”

You simply stand there, blinking blankly, no expression whatsoever on your face.

Oh, shiitake mushrooms.

“Y/n,” Winwin speaks, a warning tone lilting at the end of his voice, “You do know who it was…right?”

You hesitate, clearing your throat and forcing a very fake sweet smile. “Well, there’s so many people here, I couldn’t have possibly-“

“God dammit,” he huffs, interrupting your futile justification, your smile dropping as you watch his thumb and pointer finger rub circles into his temples. He stands straight again. “Is there no one…absolutely ANYONE, that you saw or, like, touched, directly?” fe flattens a hand and slices it through the air, illustrating his point of directly.

You think back to what happened, replaying each significant action in your head.

Well, someone stepped on my foot, then I almost fell and grabbed a stranger’s arm and-

You mind pauses, hooked onto something.

The stranger…You think.

THE STRANGER!

He must be the one!

“Oh, OH! Th-there wa-there was a stranger!” You point a finger forward at your eureka moment, eyes expanding as you flick your neck to look over at Winwin in wonder.

He’s unamused to say the least, not an ounce of excitement at your words. He blinks once at you, before stretching a sarcastic smile across his face. “If I could turn this whole place into the facepalm meme right now, I would,” he gripes, shaking his head with a twirl of his finger at the mention of whole.

“Well, he is a stranger, I don’t know who he is…All I know is that he was headed inside the gates,” Yyu visibly deflate, nodding your chin over Winwin’s shoulder toward the entrance gate of the college, earning a sigh from the man as he turns his head in the same direction.

He turns back to you. “Well, you better damn hope he gets accepted at NCC if you ever wanna see him again.”

“Well, I better damn hope I get accepted first,” you chuckle dryly.

“Oh right, shit, you have your interview soon.” He glances down at the smartwatch on his wrist, mumbling an off-hand “Thirty-five minutes to go.”

Wait, he thinks to himself.

Realisation suddenly strikes his features as he has a thought, face slowly rising to meet yours with a stunned expression. “Y/n.”

“What?” you reply anxiously, hands beginning to clutch tightly at the corners of your folder pressed a little too harshly into your torso, anticipating the impending hour ahead of you. You watch as Winwin awkwardly digs through his back pocket, fishing out his phone and typing something, all while a sly smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He no sooner shoves the screen so close to your face, you’d have to lean back to see what’s displayed.

“What colours are on this dipstick bottle?”

You stand confused at his sudden question, until you fully look at the image in front of you. “I see…white and black…and grey…” you glance at Winwin, unsure. He stands there with a cheeky smirk.

You flick your gaze back to the screen, focusing hard.

And suddenly it hits you.

Like a goddamn truck.

Eyes widening for what might as well have been the seventh time that day, your smile grows as you continue, “…and there’s also a bunch of other colours that I can’t describe but can definitely see!” The pitch of your voice gets higher and higher as you speak, before breaking out into a squeal that you have no choice but to cover with both hands, staring up excitedly at Winwin.

It fully sinks in.

Colour…I CAN FUCKING SEE COLOURS!

And if I can see colour, that means…

Your whole face sparkles up in joy at the thought, a firecracker burning up inside you as you throw your arms around Winwin’s neck and hug him tightly, almost knocking him over in the process.

He chuckles into your shoulder, just as happy as you.

“Welcome to NCC, Y/n Y/l/n.”

It has been the better part of three hours since the flight Mark and his mother had taken landed in town, and he’s already jogging up the familiar wide steps two-at-a-time on his way to the main NCC campus reception. He decides against wasting any time or logic in admiring the architectural mastery of the place, having already done that a couple weeks ago. He’d barely made it on time back then despite arriving an hour early, too distracted by the magnificent setting.

Not this time, he inwardly tells himself, long strides carrying him straight inside the building to greet the same lady at the front desk from weeks before, though it’s clear she doesn’t remember him when she asks his name while donning an oblivious expression.

Poor facial recognition probably comes with the job.

“Uhhh, Mark Lee,” he looks around cautiously, making sure to lower his voice in case any curious ears prick in on his words. “I have a special provisions application.”

The lady nods, muttering something about expecting a special provisions applicant at this time today. She stands, leading Mark down a few plain corridors before stopping behind a large wooden door.

On it a shiny panel reads, Executive Professor and Dean of Medicine, Soo-man Lee

Same last name. Huh, Mark muses in his head.

“The Dean will be with you in a moment.”

Mark nods, thanking the lady as she retreats back down the corridors.

Today, Mark assumes, is one of the busiest interviewing days for next year’s NCC applicants – according to the number students he’d seen entering and exiting the building alongside him earlier.

But the truth is, he’s not here today for his own interview – he’s already had that; as a special provisions student, the panel requested an earlier interview for him than regular applicants.

The reason he’s here right now…well he has no clue why he’s here.

A week prior, when he thought he’d be expecting an acceptance letter, he’d instead received a call-back request for further consultation…whatever the hell that meant.

So now as Mark sits here waiting for that further consultation, faced with the reality of the Dean’s office door right in front of him, all he can feel are the cold jitters and nerves coursing down his spine as he makes it his mission to envision every the worst-case scenario that comes to mind.

On top of that, the cold air from the air conditioner does little to alleviate his heightened state.

Upon hearing the dampened sound of footsteps in his periphery, Mark looks up. A tall, slender male figure holding a lightish folder approaches from the right side of the hallway – the same hallway Mark had been led down. The man wears a formal looking jumper and what Mark can only assume are black slacks, given their seemingly dark tone. He looks to be from some East Asian country – perhaps he’s Chinese – and seems young, probably around the same age as Mark, maybe a year or two younger.

No wait, that’s impossible…unless he’s a prodigy or something, Mark thinks to himself with a small shake of his head.

As he walks closer, Mark decides the chap to be decently good-looking, dare he say, handsome; delicate-looking features and hair styled in parted curtains, and though he does look a little on the feminine side, it suits him.

He looks distracted, taking deep breaths as he quietly mutters indiscernible sentences to himself, glancing at the ceiling every once in a while. If he notices Mark staring at him, he doesn’t acknowledge it until he’s walking right in front of Mark’s seated figure; briefly making eye-contact, forcing a polite smile with a small nod of his head, and then walking right by.

Must have an interview, Mark assumes, watching the guy retreat around a corner, wishing him well out of goodwill.

No sooner does the office door in front of Mark open, startling him as an average heighted man – likely in his mid-sixties – steps out. He’s dressed head to toe in formal attire, shoes polished shiny and glasses resting low on the bridge of his pointy nose. Mark recognises him as one of the panel board members that interviewed him weeks prior.

Wait the Dean was there that day?

“Mr Lee, please come in.”

“Yes, sir,” Mark immediately stands up, politely walking into the Dean’s office as the door is held open for him and shut quietly once he steps inside.

“Please, take a seat,” the man gestures amicably to a black leather couch situated in front of a large, polished oak desk with neat piles of folders, papers and such stacked near the edge. A huge bookshelf, as tall as the ceiling, spans across the left wall of the office, filled from top to bottom with books of an array of grey and black tones. A strong scent of weathered paper and musk fills the air, accentuating the modern woody room.

This room is very different to the room the interview was held in.

A little intimidating, to put in simple words.

The Dean sits down in the large leather seat across from Mark’s tense form, clasping his hands upon the desk in front of him. “I’d like to start by commending you on your application to NCC, Mark. You don’t mind if I call you Mark, do you?”

Mark shakes his head a little too vigorously than he’d have liked. “No, sir, not at all. A-and thank you. It’s an honour to be considered at all," he gestures his hands in a way he can’t quite understand himself, eventually deciding on pulling them into his lap before he ends up knocking the water jug off the coffee table in front of him.

The Dean beams a small smile – the kind you’d expect him to pull when getting his picture taken – and nods along with the boy’s enthusiasm. “I expect you’re confused why you received a call-back letter?”

Not so much confused as scared.

“A little, I’m afraid," Mark replies cautiously, voice catching in his throat, which he immediately clears. But as he sits there, he acquires an inkling of why he may be here...why he didn’t receive the acceptance letter he’d hoped to receive.

He mentally face-palms himself at not having picked up on it earlier before walking inside.

“A few things need to be discussed,” Professor Lee pauses, getting straight to the point, “I understand you haven’t experienced your illumination as of yet.”

Mark blinks, swiftly but hesitantly replying, “Yes, sir.”

“I hope you understand, that as a medical student you would be required to have colour-sensitive vision,” the professor eyes him through the top of his spectacles, earning a nod from Mark and another quiet “Yes, sir.”

“You may already know that the first year of your chosen course consists mainly of revision of previously acquired knowledge; biological and chemical concepts taught within high school." While speaking, the Dean unclasps his hands, somehow acting as a visual indicator for Mark to relax slightly from his tense posture. "From what I gather, you’ve maintained an exceptionally high GPA over the past few years, as such posing little foreseeable concerns regarding your first year – if accepted – at Neo Central College.”

Nodding thoughtfully in response, Mark purses his lips to suppress the smile that tries to form on his lips; he can’t help but feel a sort of pride swell in the depths of his chest at the praise.

The Dean continues, “With all this considered, after major discussion among the admissions board as well as myself,” he holds a hand to his chest, “and, in conjunction with your interview,” a small smile appears on his face at his next words, “we have reached a consensus that it would truly be a shame to turn away a promising student such as yourself from Neo Central College.”

Mark’s head visibly perks up, now allowing his small but confused smile to show.

“Mr Lee, I would like to accept you into our undergraduate medical program.”

Marks eyes widen at the same time his mouth drops open, blinking a couple times before realising how rude he must currently appear in front of such an important figure.

With all the world’s metaphorical slaps hitting his reddening cheeks, Mark instead opts to fix his posture and sport a relieved – but poised and hopefully professional-looking – smile on his face.

“However, this course is offered to you on one condition.”

Now his smile falters as the room is engulfed by a heavy layer of air. The Dean stares at him with a serious expression, causing Mark to subconsciously gulp, nerves crashing in again at full swing as if they never left in the first place.

He anxiously sucks in a deep inaudible breath as the Dean further explains, “You must undergo illumination by the end of your first year, otherwise…” he removes his spectacles with a single hand, holding them out to one side, “…I’m afraid you will have to discontinue the course. And while, I understand the matter is out of your direct control, this is a measure which must be taken and clarified from the beginning. Do you think this is feasible for you?”

Illumination.

Mark has always been inclined to brush that word off for another day…another time…another place…maybe even another life. But now he realises that muttering an off-hand fuck that and going about the rest of his day is not – no, cannot – be the solution.

Not if he’s going to pass up a once-in-a-blue-moon opportunity like this, at least.

Which he’s not.

It takes Mark no longer than three seconds to outtalk the little voice in his head telling him that what he’s about to agree to could quite potentially be impossible.

It’s not impossible. I can do it.

With a determined nod of his head – more to himself than anyone else – and a solemn look glazing over his tensed features, Mark looks up, fierceness present as ever in his eyes.

“Professor Lee, I would be honoured to take up this opportunity,” he nods his head again, this time more firmly, feeling even more determined than ever.

This is his life that he’s setting himself up for; medicine is his dream, being a doctor is his aspiration. He wants to help the world, heal the world. This course is his one-way ticket to getting everything he’s ever wanted. Of course, he knows it only gets harder once he gets in, but he’s always been ready to put in the hard work; always ready to put in extra effort when required.

If having his illumination was the extra work he needed put in to reach his goal, so be it.

It’s now or never.

“Your acceptance under such provision in an extreme anomaly for Neo Central College, Mark. Once you agree to these terms, they mustn’t be taken lightly.”

I mustn’t take this lightly.

“Yes sir, this will not be taken lightly," Mark says with a tight shake of his head, watching as the Dean stands up and taking it as a cue to stand up himself. “Thank you very much for this opportunity.”

The Dean smiles, walking around his table and extending out his hand for Mark to shake.

“Neo Central College is glad to welcome you, Mr Lee.”

Mark doesn’t know when or how he finds himself back where he was before his meeting with the Dean, but here he is, sitting in the chair outside the very office in which he just sealed his future; elbows digging into the top of his kneecaps, eyebrows furrowed, hair a little dishevelled now that his fingers have scooped through them once, twice, maybe even eight times.

I’m in?

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he sucks in a sharp breath of air through his teeth, eyebrows furrowed while tilting his chin to the right in thought.

He abruptly stands up.

BLOODY HELL, I’M IN!

Before he can stop himself, he jumps up in the air in excitement, pumping a fist high enough it could’ve punched right through the roof, before realising what he’s just done and clearing his throat.

He cranes his neck left and right in appraisal of any audience, letting out a relieved sigh seeing the hallway is empty.

With a giddy smile and a little skip in his every other step, Mark makes his way back down the halls, through the reception and straight out to the front gates of NCC where the sun shines bright, and the world stands anew.

Looking out at the crowded entrance steps bustling with students in every which direction, Mark feels like a changed man, pleased at the thought he’d be walking up and down those very steps almost every day the next year.

I’m unstoppable!

“Mark!” He hears a familiar voice yell beyond the throng of students, standing on his toes with cinched eyes to spot his mother waving at him.

Her smile is so sweet and fond; it powers Mark with a certain surge of energy as he waves back, smiling just as wide, before springing forward on his feet in excitement to tell her the news. He sees her expression turn into one of surprise watching her son run towards her.

Mark’s smile only grows, twisting, turning and dodging past the walking bodies – probably accidentally nudging a few of them here and there, but frankly he’s oblivious.

He knows his mother is going be the most proud, having always been his number one supporter; the thought itself makes a garden of happiness bloom around his heart.

However, in this state of oblivion, Mark accidentally steps on a foot among the crown before he can help it, hearing a small yelp while muttering an “Oh, shit,” as he feels his own ankle twist upon contact. He stumbles forward yelling back a “Sorry” as he catches himself on his toes, heartbeat thrumming in his chest upon the almost-occurrence of him tumbling down the steps…and potentially taking down at least 10 other people with him.

He stands there for a moment, body slightly hunched, hands resting on his knees as he breathes heavily facing toward the ground.

Then he starts to notice something – almost like a crease or wave of sorts – ruffling across the floor as if it were a wave crashing on the seashore.

It leaves the concrete looking a little more…grey.

With furrowing eyebrows, Mark double takes his gaze to something that glints from a couple meters away in the corner of his eye, his once heavy breaths hitching in his throat.

A shoe buckle…but it’s not grey or black or white.

It’s…it’s…

Mark doesn’t know what it is.

Tilting his head to the side, his eyes – now growing increasingly wide by the second – follow the black shoe upon which the buckle rests, turning his body as the owner of the shoe steps by.

What?

Mark raises his head in confusion, suddenly jumping on the spot when he’s met with a hoard of all sorts of different pigments in every which angle. He snaps his neck left, right, back and front, looking around as if all the people walking past him have turned into ghosts floating by.

It’s everywhere.

Well, it isn't exactly one thing, it is many things; repeatedly present along shirts, pants, shoes, jackets, hair, faces, even cars!

I must be dreaming…

Mark closes his eyes for a second, tipping his head back towards the sky while mentally instructing himself to take a few deep, calming breaths.

In…and out.

And in…and out.

He opens his eyes.

“AH, what the fuck?” He gasps in horror, arms raising up to his sides as he jumps again in reflex, almost falling onto his back as he’s startled by the very different tone present all throughout the sky.

“It’s not grey,” he wonders aloud, moving his eyes all around the brightness above.

He freezes.

Wait…

...then…

Is it blue?

Blue → It's Complicated

[another] Author's Note: AHHHHHHHH hope I didn't put you to sleep lmaoooo. Anyways, that's Part 1 of Illumination and practically where the real story between Mark and Y/n will start off from in future chapters. I plan to drag this series out for at least a few more longer chapters, so please stay excited and look forward to it :D I've also decided to start a taglist for Illumination, so if anyone's interested, please don't hesitate to request here and I'll be more than happy to add you :))))

#mark lee fanfic #mark lee fanfiction #mark fanfic #mark x reader #mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark fanfiction #nct dream au #mark lee imagines #mark #soulmate #nct #mark lee fluff #nct mark #soulmate au #illumination #nct dream x reader #soulmates au #my fics

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cruddyborderlandstheories · 5 years

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me: i don’t have anything to post ughhh also me: has 10 95% finished drafts i could literally take an hour to finish and upload but won’t me: lemme start a new analysis

aaaaaa the mural of mayhem looks so good (source)

tl;dr: bunches of new environment shots. also i wanna time travel So Bad, just so Bad,,, gearbox, please, time travel??? i wanna meet The Man Typhon Deleon just *clenches fist* so bad and slap him for leading to the opening of the first vault. also for some reason tina is the only one of the good guys with the fabric stuff the twins are wearing. be warned. oh, also, there might be some ursa mechs? i saw like 3 robos that look like iron bear but aren’t colored like it so who even knows. oh and we see the scientist (?) dude in color next to Tannis from the MoM. he seems cool evil.

i don’t even know where to begin here so let’s start with the middle and work our way towards literally whatever catches my eye next. i have no method, im a disaster

OwO

nothing too special about our VHs here, they seem to be using the gold gun skins that are offering in either the early adopter pack or the other pack u get i think for signing up to be a VIP. so that’s neat. also shows off the good guys = blue/yellow theme we see throughout the mural.

there is this weird square shape in the sky/clouds above them? idk what it’s supposed to be, though. a logo? a ship? a building? i can’t tell!

i could be wrong/seeing things though lol

zoomer isn’t colored in! probably didn’t want to detract from the main 4 VHs. additionally, Amara’s arms don’t have their patterns across them.

Moze is also the only VH here with a hint as to what her Action Skill is. IB is elsewhere on the mural, though. We’ll get to him.

the Vault behind them!

moving down below the VHs, we see this ship

I’ve spoken about it before, so i won’t go into it here

bandits? i think! looks like at least one of them is wearing power armor... or just a suit of armor in general. it looks like power armor to me tho lol

another set of silhouettes in the foreground on the right there. can’t tell who/what they’re supposed to be unfortunately, but im going to assume more bandits

interestingly, we see the ruins of helios SUPER close and, even more interestingly, what appears to be a Vault in front of it! Which could very well be the Vault of the Traveler? since the Traveler itself can’t teleport it anymore (cause y’know... it ded.) It has a weird shape at the bottom, idk what that is supposed to be. it looks like a curvy outline of an arrow tbh lol. i wonder if the Vault actually did teleport Rhys and Fiona somewhere. I also wonder if the thing on the bottom is meant to help ‘visitors’ or something idk use/see/extract whatever was in the Vault. there was like some stairs and then a chest..? thing? idek.

but yeah, looks like the Vault by Helios is doing well. Also, Vaughn apparently knows Rhys is on Promethea (soon) after the end of tales so I wonder if that actually is a portal... either way, i hope this means we’ll get to go visit 👀 We’ve visited the ruins of helios already in commander lilith, so hopefully this isn’t too much of a stretch.

to the right of that we see Lorelei knockin the shit out of a goliath that seems... kinda small compared to her? idk maybe it’s cause he’s lying down (and out).

We also see another instance of Mystery Girl up at the top there, though she’s in the exact same pose as the mask of mayhem which makes me kinda sad. i was hoping to see another angle of her or something. I do hope she’s actually in the game and isn’t just a statue. be wild if tyreen gave her the suck or something to turn her into a statue to preserve her in the hopes that doing the reverse succ/getting the ultimate power would let ty bring her back to life at a later point lmao

below lorelei we can see a crimson raider in the ash cloud! i have no idea why he’s there but he’s lookin baller.

next to to lorelei is a titan (unsure if that’s the official name for these big guys or if the one in the showcase was unique) a skag and clappy! I can’t tell if clappy is holding something in his left arm or not

also the background looks like a city. i think that is promethea? i can’t really tell tbh

next to clappy we see part of a ferris wheel which im pretty sure is part of the circus area we’ve seen in the trailers. the one with the circle emblem thing above the door/entrance.

below clappy/marcus we see what i think is part of Eden-6

the bridge/road has me going like 🤔 but the foliage pretty much confirms it. might be related to that research base looking area. might be related to jakobs manor (maybe they have a bridge to keep bandits out) idk

above that we see marcus looking some cash to a bunch of psychos. I think he has an ECHO skin? i can’t really tell. not really much to say here tbh, is marcs.

behind him we see this landscape which i don’t think we’ve seen before. the tree is screaming Athenas at me but tbh i think we’ve only seen red trees there, haven’t we? also is that the handle of a sword near the bottom there? wtf is that?

maybe a new planet? or a new biome on one of the planets we haven’t seen yet. it looks like a savanna tree to me. you know the ones?

yeah. possible new planet/new biome we haven’t seen yet?? i would ADORE a savanna type area.

next to that we see a tink and a skag in front of the HBC. I thiiink the tink is holding a flamethrower? not sure, though. maybe a miniboss like midgemong? that’d be neat asf

i can’t tell if this is a suit of power armor/a robot or just part of the environment lol, i can see the helmet up top and a big bulky body. i would love to fight power armored enemies like that, be so cool! maybe these are modified suits of the ursa corps project? or something. idk about the helmet.

above the tink/skag combo we can see more silhouettes in the foreground. i seriously can’t make out who they’re supposed to be :( maybe some maliwan troops? i feel like they’d be more recognizable, though. hmhmhmhm

in the background we see another robo/power armor suit (???? i think????), this one seems to have a flamethrower, which is kinda reinforcing my theory they might be repurposed armor sets. this one doesn’t appear to have a helmet. kinda get the feeling they’re either repurposed or completely different cuz the helmet on the other one is throwing me off a touch. IB doesn’t have a helmet.

for reference.

above that weirdly confusing collection of entities, we have hammerlock!

my boiii

and finally to the left of hammerlock we get to the big boy of this side of the mural

the god queen herself.

first thing i noticed? her jacket seems to be warping into that weird fabric we see clinging to other baddies throughout the mural and covering her right leg.

She seems to be holding up a grenade/molotov cocktail/smoke bomb?

pretty sure it’s a molotov cocktail though

i love how the smoke merges into the roses above her. really cool detail. you can also see the recruitment center to the right there! and a crane which makes me double down on the idea that the ‘vault’ we see in the booth thing had been excavated by dahl (considering the main building of the RC is a dahl building)

we also see a fire rakk? ?? i think? be cool if we got badass elemental rakks. i’ve only ever seen normal badass rakks. i wonder if this is a play on the fact there’s a psycho in the MoM with rakk wings and the twins stole lily’s firehawk powers... probably not, right? probably not...

ty’s tattoos are lookin kinda green for me here, might be the close proximity to all those browns and reds, though. it’d be really cool if she could pull an amara and swap her succ elements LMAO

a bunch of psychos! all with wings! which is weird cause the sirens don’t have wings here. weird chunk of symbolism i guess. we can see a tubby on the top there which makes me happy to know they’re coming back. there’s one with

a glowing nose

and there’s this figure on the very left

who doesn’t appear to be a psycho at all

also, note that all these psychos have a ‘normal’ brown/gray buzzaxe

the one at the bottom here, on ty’s left has a more golden-colored buzzaxe. im p sure that corresponds to rank in cult. i also feel obligated to point out that, while im 90% sure that flame is coming from the flamethrower on the right there, it does kinda look like the bottom psycho is shooting a blast of flames out of his palm.

moving right along

the whole entourage seems to be laying across a statue of roses, which match the ones at the top of the mural AND the ones on the cover art.

we see a shot of Pandora and Elpis here (I’m pretty sure. the purple light at the top right makes me believe that’s the eridian scar, but.... may not be)

looks very volcanic...

we see one of those lil video game dudes from the demo, forgot their names but they’re Maliwan

below them we see this scene

which is an area i don’t recognize. eden-6 maybe? the buildings seem a bit close together, though.

tbh i thought this was another city at first, maybe it’s Promethea from ye olde days? you know, before Atlas took over and modernized it. Maybe we’ll get to go back in time to stop the first Vault from ever being opened. that’d be pretty cool. man time travel would be wild. i wonder if we’d be able to combine the Vault of the Traveler and the Vault of the Sentinel to do that. now that’d be cool.

but it’s probably eden-6 lmao

quadruple threat here. from top to bottom: Rhys, Zer0, Vaughn, Aurelia? i think.

her hair seems spikier in the mask bit... maybe that’s not her? she also doesn’t have the earrings. idk who else it could be, though. 🤔

anyway. Vaughn seems to be climbing a cliff or something lol. at least he’s got a cape and his relic of strength on him.

rhys and zer0 are in the same poses as their poses on the Mask of Mayhem, just colored in.

biggg statue of ty. noticeably missing her facial scars. not much else to say, pretty sure this is just a different(ish) angle of her MoM statue during the pan around.

back to the bottom center of the mural, let’s move left

someone with a jetpack! i can’t make out who, though. i thought it was Moze at first but... she needs her digistruct pack for iron bear.

Also a bunch of psychos all fighting each other. over the buzzaxes maybe? if they really are a symbol of rank in the cult. that or they’re just being psychos.

this area with a waterfall and also a drainage pipe. i think this is also eden-6, but i am not 100% sure. probably an area we haven’t seen yet.

lily!! her right (our left) wing looks really weird to me, idk what it is. it’s a lot redder/yellower than her left one. Also, the tattoos near her wrist look like they’re coming off her arm.

to the left of lily we see ellie!

holding a whole-ass street sign. insane.

next/behind her is promethea! which we’ve seen before. it looks like one of the buildings in the middle there is getting blasted by something, but idk what. maybe something Maliwan?

also, on the left there we can see what i thought was iron bear

but now i am second guessing myself due to the other robos/armor suits we saw on the right of the mural.

maybe they did not color in IB fully like Zoomer? it looks like there is someone/something where the turret mount would be. maybe that is moze standing up there? it would be really interesting to see other Ursa Corps soldiers coming in. I know they mentioned in the Commander Lily ECHO log that Vladof was at war with Tediore, and we know through their advertisements for bl2 that Vladof is also at war with Dahl. It’s possible we’ll see some of their troops in the game! especially since Moze’s echo actually talks about the troop as a whole and not specifically her, unlike the others.

next to the mystery mech or iron bear (you decide) we see Mystery Girl/Little Blue/Nope Girl

and, yeah, starting to think she may not actually fit into the timeline of Steele’s death. she looks older than 12 to me (for reference, in bl2 tina was 13). but we haven’t quite seen enough of her so who knows. im getting ‘way too tall’ vibes. maybe 14-15? maybe mystery MoM girl is her little sister. i would not be surprised if we saw another sibling relationship to juxtapose the twins (considering mystery girl looks like a CoV bandit, they’d be distant at the start and close at the end of the game while the twins are close at the start and distant at the end of the game- we know Danny Homan said their relationship would start to warp).

below her we see this area

i think that’s a water tank at the bottom there? this looks kinda like a garden/courtyard area to me. Maybe another place on Athenas? i want to say Athenas bc Little Blue is directly above it. may be another new planet/biome/region we haven’t seen yet.

Above L.B we see this car

which is interesting to me bc it appears to have a closed top? I could be wrong though. would be fun to see Vasquez’s car make a return, tho lol (and then everyone gets mad the fuckin car is making an appearance but Gaige isn’t)

above that we see Tina and Mordy (and Talon) making an appearance. Tina appears to be in the same pose as her Mappearancence, including the huge launcher behind her which has me like :O Talon is a girl now in bl3, right? unless their gender changed again after the commander lilith stuff.

Also, I’m hesitant to note that Tina is the only ‘good guy’ character to have the fabric on. Everyone other character with it is either a psycho or one of the twins. I hope that’s just artistic choice and nothing more because :(

also she has bows on her shoes. fucking ace

to their right we see 3 very interesting things so we’ll go in order from the bottom counter clockwise

another mystery dude who seems to match the one we saw by tyreen, and those silhouettes again. It looks like they’re reaching down to save their falling teammates. i hope they’re alright. (unless they’re evil. then, oof, crash and burn)

at the top i can see a bunch of men with guns pointed at what i think is a jabber? but the lower bit i can’t make out. someone’s falling at the very bottom, it looks like a second falling figure has been caught with rope? idk.

above that scene we see

tannis! and the mystery guy to the bottom right. the one we’ve seen standing next to her in the MoM. does he have red eyes for anyone else or is that just me? might just be the lighting. Do I think he’s evil? you know the fuck i do. I trust nobody lol. Since I’m a fan of the “the twins are the product of a weird experiment” theory, it’s possible he is the experimenter. Tannis could’ve been feeding him information. maybe she didn’t even know what was going on- though, knowing her disregard for ethics, maybe she did.

this guy btw

it looks like tannis is holding an eridian artifact?

maybe?? it looks like she’s holding it horizontally, if it is an artifact.

to her right and our left we see a familiar shot of Promethea. I’ve seen this exact frame before, iirc that building is smoking bc it’s Rhys’s office. actually, that could explain Rhys joining us on Sanc-III! maybe Lorelei, too.

above Tina and Mordy we see Brick

and to the right of him, Moxxi and her bar sign

she has a new megaphone, i wonder if that is hinting we’ll be getting more circles of slaughters/underdomes. It would be nice to have her commentary return, i actually really enjoyed that in the bl1 dlc and I did actually enjoy her dlc. The wave combat was fun. I’d love to have an endless wave version to see how long i could survive.

it also looks like there are a bunch of psychos (?) hanging out around the bar. and this character at the bottom right who i don’t recognize

to the far right of moxxi we see Maya

i think this is a new pose, but tbh i don’t see anything noteworthy here. I do think it’s interesting she’s using pistols instead of smgs, but oh well. might just be for the poses lol

Troy’s statue. one interesting bit i gotta mention is that it looks like the cut on the right side of his face (our left) is visible here! iirc it was not visible on his portraits in the MoM. so that’s new!

the big boy of this side of the mural!

none of the psychos on this side seem to have golden buzzaxes, plus their drapes? wtf are these? they don’t look like robes to me. anyway, they’re darker in color than the ones on Ty’s side. might be artistic direction, might be showing they’re not as high rank as the ones with the god queen (vs the right hand man lol)

i also only see 2 psychos with wings here, the one on the very left and you can see part of a wing on the bottom right. They also don’t appear to be resting/climbing on a statue like Tyreen’s are. There is ALSO a lot less of them.

some interesting stuff about Troy: his stomach tattoos don’t seem to be around, but that could be because of the detail level required- would probably look like a big ol smudge. it is cool seeing Troy with a gun, is this the first time? i can’t remember, but i know we always saw him with his sword. i find it kinda funny they decided on the gun considering this is supposed to be renaissance, the sword would (kinda) be more fitting in that regard. it is also a giant glowy tech sword, so maybe not.

Also, Ty’s side of the mural is the only one with the roses. idk if that’s to signify something or just to balance out colors, though you’d think the red clouds on troy’s side couldve been easily converted to roses as well. hmmm 🤔

anyway, this is all i’ve got. if i missed something/if you think of something new please tell me! i wanna know 👀

#borderlands #bl3 #borderlands 3 #mural of mayhem

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