Annie

Days on trial: 70

"It just doesn't make sense," Chloe flapped her arms in the air, running around her bedroom like a headless chicken. Hunting high and low for a stiletto heel that she'd lost in the mountain of clothes piling up on her bed, she was ranting, as she had been for the last hour and a half, about Jimin's weird behaviour.

"He's a guy, they never make sense," I spoke nonchalantly, passing her the matching shoe that she had been looking for. "He wouldn't be taking you away for New Years if he wasn't serious about you."

Sighing, she slumped down into her pile of clothes.

"I know he's serious about me, I know. I don't doubt him at all."

"So what's the issue, then?"

Chloe paused, twiddling at her thumb ring with perfectly French-manicured nails. Eyes focused on her hands, shoulders slightly slumped, it was as if she were holding the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Looking up, her eyes were glazed over, stinging a little. "The way he's been acting lately is what I think it would be like if his colours started fading. It terrifies me. I don't wanna live in a world where he looks at me and doesn't see colour."

"Oh, Clo," I frowned, pulling her over to her bed and engulfing her in a bear hug. The curls she had plonked on the top of her head ticked at my skin, but I ignored it, knowing that her need for a hug was far greater than my need to not be tickled. "Jimin's crazy about you. Anyone with a pair of eyes, mono or otherwise, could see that. You've nothing to worry about. I promise you."

Rolling onto her back, we were both staring up at the ceiling as she let out a weighty sigh. 

"I know, I know. It's just the 'what if', yanno?"

I got it. I'd had the same conflictions with Jungkook. The uncertainty of not knowing whether or not his feelings were reflected in his eyesight had been a lot for me to overcome. I wasn't even sure if I had overcome it, or if I was simply just ignoring it for the sake of an easy life.

"Could you imagine if we all just saw in Multivision permanently?" I toyed with the idea, wondering how different life would be. It seemed bizarre to think about, colours holding no relevance to our love lives. They'd just be there, present, existing as they are. What a wonderful world that would be. "We'd just have to trust people."

"That might be the case if the trials get the green light for a major distribution rollout. Life would change forever."

I mumbled slightly, pondering the likelihood. "For better or for worse?"

"I'm not sure," Chloe shrugged, sitting up with a slight groan. "Oh, that reminds me actually - do you think I should wear white for the engagement? Or is that too cliche?"

"Nah, I think white is-" I began, before choking on my words. There were only four people on this planet who knew about Jimin's plans, and I knew it wouldn't have been me or Jungkook who had spilt the beans. Still, that only left Hobi, and I couldn't think of any logical reason for that conversation to have ever taken place between himself and Chloe. This was not good. "Engagement?!"

"Found the ring under his bed when I was looking for my underwear yesterday," Chloe grinned, smug as a kitten who had just broken into a milk shed. "Didn't find my knickers though, bit annoying."

"I'm sorry, did we just have that entire conversation over you being scared of Jimin losing his colours, only for you to disclose that you think he's proposing?!"

"Yeah," she tilted her head with a goofy smile. "Worrying seems silly when you say it like that."

"I don't know how Jimin puts up with you."

"Me either. But boy am I glad he does."

By the time I'd left Chloe's, she'd unpacked and repacked about four times. Normally so calm and collected, her nerves were manifesting in the form of unusually uncoordinated outfits. It reassured me to know that she seemed to be freaking out just as much as Jimin, even if she had completely ruined the surprise for herself - but she was a journalist. Sniffing out stories is what she did, and this was going to be one hell of a story for her.

Jingling my keys between my fingers, I was surprised to see a figure waiting for me by my door. The bulky khaki jacket distorted his frame, but his legs were impossible to miss; toned, lean calves, strong robust knees and thick well-trained thighs. Yeah, I'd recognise those legs in an instant.

"Who are you and what have you done with Jungkook?" I smirked, eying up the unusually colourful additions to his outfit. He looked good - great, in fact - but not quite like himself.

Holding his hand out for my keys, he had them in the lock and the door pushed open within the blink of an eye. Encroaching on my personal space, his hands found my hips as he greeted me with a kiss - or twelve - and stumbled into my flat with me. "Missed you."

"It's been, like, eight hours, Jungkook."

"Felt like eight years. Come here," he pulled me closer into him, hugging me tightly. He was so incredibly, amorously, clingy, and while it wasn't something I was used to, I certainly didn't mind it either.

"Thought it was time I added a bit more colour to my wardrobe," he spoke softly, responding to my greeting. "I don't want people to look at us and assume I don't see colour for you," he mumbled, facing away from me as he hung up his coat and slipped off his shoes. Once he turned to face me, I saw him for who he was again; grey sweatshirt, black jeans and a black leather belt.

The muscles in my face tensed slightly, a crease forming between my brows. Jungkook had struggled with his identity as a mono for years, and his association with his eyesight to his self worth preceded way before I came onto the scene. It wasn't my place to tell him how to feel - all that I could do was tell him how I felt.

"So what if they do?" I stepped towards him, intertwining our fingers.  The heat of his skin against mine was enough to make my cheeks flame. "People are too busy being concerned with their own colours to care about yours - but, for what it's worth, when I look at you I see hazelnut eyes and petal pink lips, not black trousers and white shirts. The colours of your clothes don't mean shit to me," I pressed my lips into his, and they were reciprocated warmly. I hated the idea of him getting in his head over something so trivial. "Plus you look sexy in monochrome."

"Oh, is that so?" He grinned against my own cheeky smile, reconnecting our lips, seemingly distracted from his troubles.

"You look sexier in your underwear though," I purred, desperately wanting to keep his mind focused on more positive trains of thought.

"Annie," he warned me with a smile, daring me not to act up too much - though to be fair, I did kind of need a rest after he'd spent the morning rearranging my internal organs. I could feel the evidence of our time spent in my bed every time I laughed, the muscles sore from the unexpected workout. His forearms rested on my shoulders, hands looped together behind my head. "Such dirty words for such a pretty little mouth."

It was my turn to gasp, swatting at his chest a little. "Jungkook!"

"You love it."

"Shut up."

No matter what the occasion was, Jungkook refused to be the first person to give in, almost as much as he refused to be the first person to give up.

It was a habit of his that I had noticed for a little while; his insatiable need to linger. His touch, a kiss, a word - he let them all do it, never really wanting to finish whatever it was he was doing. It was almost as if he was scared it would be for the last time.

He lingered like the light of a burnt-out star, it's luminescence still hurtling towards the earth at the speed of light, long after it had ceased to shine. I knew that he'd have the same interminable effect on me,  remnants of his love haunting my soul, even if one day he did decide that I wasn't the one for him anymore. I think that's why I wasn't scared about losing his love. I think I knew that even after the hickies had faded and the scent of his aftershave had been washed from my pillowcases, that I'd still be able to feel this, him, forevermore. 

"Are you hungry?" He whispered, far too alluring for such a mundane topic, heavy-lidded eyes drinking in my entire soul. "I'm ravenous."

"Let's cook," I dragged him towards the kitchen. "Tell me about your day. How was the support group?"

"Supportive."

"You don't say?!" I feigned surprise. 

"It might come as a shock to you," he leant against my counter as I crouched to look in the wine cooler, grabbing two glasses on my way down. "But there was also a group of people there too."

"Gasp," I spoke the word instead of making the noise. "A group of supportive people at a support group? Who'd have thought?!"

"Not me," he bantered, before slipping into a slightly less trivial tone. "Nah, it was alright. I just..."

Punctuating his pause with a sharp breath, it was clear to see something was playing on his mind.

"You just...?" 

I didn't want to force him to speak if he wasn't ready or willing to. He knew I'd happily listen to him spew bullshit all, just as much as I'd happily stay completely silent with him. Jungkook was the kind of person to not care about words; an artist through and through, he expressed himself in physical existence. He'd sit by me for hours, doing absolutely nothing, just so that he could be close by. Sometimes, when words weren't enough, he'd use his body to will the way he felt about me into actuality.  

Now felt like it had the potential to be one of those times.

Reaching his palm out, I placed the glasses on the counter and let him pull me into himself. Coming to a halt between his legs, safety was my default emotion as his muscular arms wrapped around my head.

"Just can't help but feel different, yanno? Even with the people in the support group, my colours were different to all of theirs," he sighed. I could picture him nibbling on his bottom lip, eyes laced with contemplation. 

"How so?"

"Just different, that's all," he shrugged, clearly not wanting to divulge any further. He'd tell me when he was ready, so I didn't press for more. 

Pulling away from him, I cracked open the sauvignon blanc and poured us both a glass.

"To being different," I raised a toast, clinking my glass against his, letting the alcohol slosh around the edge of the thin crystal.  His smile returned, sweeter than honey. God, I could have wasted my whole entire life looking at him.

"To being different, babe."

a/n: if you'd have told me three years ago that I'd spend the early hours of Christmas morning updating a fanfic for my favourite kpop band, I would have thought you were mental. and yet.... here we are :) 

Merry Christmas x x x x x