****

Ever since Anxiety had first come into existence, people had a colour. The colour was just... there. Almost everybody had a colour, as long as he or Thomas knew them. Be it bright green, dark greyish blue, vibrant yellow, popping orange, deep purple, dark red, people just had a colour! Anxiety barely ever paid attention to it, actually, because after all, it was all just in his mind. It wasn't like he physically saw the colours he just... felt them.

If he thought about it hard enough, he could see what the colour was, could imagine it perfectly. Anxiety still didn't know why some people had specific colours. Nobody was ever quite the same, no one had the same shade or hue. Sometimes people just didn't have a colour, and Anxiety had no explanation for that. They could be one of Thomas' oldest friends, yet there would be no colour for Anxiety to associate them with. Sometimes it was hard to tell what the colour really was; sometimes it was all unclear and blended and muddy, and it made Anxiety's head hurt if he thought about it for too long. He usually tried to ignore those colours after a while, if the person was somebody he could associate a colour with then eventually it would get clearer.

Sometimes the colour changed.

Emotions and feelings seemed to have a lot to do with it: how Anxiety felt about the person, if the person was showing one strong emotion in that moment, etc.

Sometimes Anxiety had to know the person really well to get a strong colour, yet sometimes knowing them well made the colour harder to define. No stranger had a colour. People he knew only vaguely sometimes had a colour, but it was usually darker and less clear. Every colour came with a different feeling. Sometimes the colour was unexpected, not what one would typically associate the person with. It wasn't like he chose the colour, although he did sift through options trying to figure out exactly what the colour was. He didn't know why some colours were what they were, although sometimes Anxiety wondered if he took it from appearances, like blue eyes, or simply knowledge of the person, like favourite colours. Sometimes Anxiety convinced himself it was all fake.

He thought about it for too long, managed to convince himself that it was all fake, unreal, that he was making it up. That he was forcing himself to think of a colour whenever he saw a person because he wanted to be special, unique. That he simply chose a colour and stuck it to the person. Felt like it wasn't real because who the heck gives people a colour? And it couldn't be that rare, different colours were associated with different things all the time, like yellow with happiness, etc. Anxiety often convinced himself that he was lying to himself, somehow.

But Anxiety couldn't deny the fact that every time he saw Roman, he felt colour.

****

When he paid attention, or one of the other's was doing something particularly strongly, their colour shone through.

Morality was light yellow, or maybe white. Bright, energetic colours. Shiny and like sunlight, intense. Loud and popping out at you, happy and cheerful. He was constant and solid, rarely switching from anything but those bright colours.

Logic was blue. The shade changed depending on what he was doing, however. If he was pondering the universe, giving facts, teaching people etc then he was dark blue, almost navy. Interesting and intelligent, deep and intricate. If Logan was playing, either a game or with a toy (usually a Rubik's cube) or being childish with Morality, then his colour changed to something like orchid blue.

But Prince, Prince was red.

Mostly.

****

Sometimes, he was pink. The red would pale, dim down, become more peaceful. More relaxed, less vibrant, a soft happiness and contentedness with whatever was happening. Prince changed to pink when he was in his own little world. Curled up in a pillow fort, eyes shining, absorbed in a Disney movie he knew off by heart. Drawing and colouring, humming peacefully to songs as he allowed his creativity to flow loosely and freely.

And sometimes, when he was upset, he turned dark orange. Clashing and violent, chaos, a turmoil of distress. Anxiety always knew, and Prince's colour always turned orange, because Roman never hid when he was feeling bad. He was loud and vocal, distressed voiced ringing through the mind, upset expression lingering on his face. He was unafraid to say when he felt unloved, unworthy, unimportant, etc. He was orange.

But Anxiety loved Prince's normal colour. He loved the red.

Roman was scarlet, like his sash. Bright and loud, explosive and always right there, booming and expanding, a rush of crimson whenever the boy was being dramatic. The red was passion; bright and loud, strong and steady, fireworks. Loud voices and excitement, hand gestures and energetic feelings. Bright, unabashed smiles, full of excitement and delight, nothing held back or covered. Eyes twinkling in joy, his very personality loud enough to overpower everything else, the vibrant red practically emanating from him. Endless and energetic, wild and free and dramatic. That was the boy that Anxiety loved. He was red. Roman was red.

Love was red.