Work Text:
Your name is Dave Strider and you're not sure what to think when you see something flicker from behind your shades.
Because you know it's impossible and stupid of you to think but
It's right there.
Or rather, he's right there. On the bench in the park, earbuds in his ears as he taps away on his smartphone.
To make sure your eyes aren't fucking around with you, you slip your shades on top of your head to be out of the way and
yep.
Clear as day.
Color.
First, there's this tiny, crazy, eruption of the stuff. It's blue, your mind tells you. It's his eyes, and his shirt, and his phone case, and his fucking aura and it's