JUNGKOOK

Days on trial: 70

Slipping into the function room just off the side of the clinic, trepidation made itself at home in my brain. My eyes scattered from left to right, taking in the room: white walls, grey chairs, muted beige carpet that hadn't been washed since the 1988 olympics.

Half a dozen people were milling around, fiddling with polystyrene cups, the scent of stale coffee suffocating me. I wondered what they could see; if they knew the colour of the string tied around my wrist or if they were aware of the blush on my nose from the cold winters breeze.

My focus was broken by the presence of someone next to me, another person quietly observing the gathering. 

"You're new."

"Yeah, uh, didn't really realise this was a thing," I admitted sheepishly, my hand fiddling with the screwed up flyer that was still in my jacket pocket.

"You haven't be missed out on much, just humble brags about who could see what colour first. All a bit of a bore, really."

"Yet you've been coming every week?" I smirked, glancing to the side to observe the friendly stanger next to me. She was short, even shorter than Annie, with pitch black hair bundled on top of her head, secured with a yellow scrunchie. That single pop of colour aside, she was in all black, a thick coat over a loose knit sweater, dark denim skirt, tights and boots. She looked like a mono.

"Been waiting for something exciting to happen," she shrugged, glancing over to me. I wondered if she thought I looked like a mono too, black jeans with a long black overcoat, chunky boots and a grey sweater that was tucked into my waistband. I was conscious of Annie, and the rust-coloured cami that she'd slipped on after her bath, teamed with pale wash denim jeans that hugged her curves. She looked like a multi. Would it bother her that I didn't? "Looks like it might be my lucky week."

"Ah, I'm not so sure about that," I deflected, unsure of her tone. She was being friendly, but I couldn't help but feel as if her conversation was laced with shameless flirting. I wasn't naive to good banter, but there was only one person I wanted to banter with anymore.

"No? So tell me about yourself then."

"Jungkook. Multi," I nodded, quietly happy to be able to declare myself as that. "First wave of the trials. They reckoned I was a special case because I'd never seen colour before."

"Never?"

"Nope. Saw red first and they've faded in gradually ever since. I think I'm at full colour now. What about yourself?"

"Kenna. Mono," she gritted her teeth awkwardly. "I reckon they've put me on the placebo. Haven't seen colour since my last break up about a year ago."

"The placebo?" I queried, curiously. I knew that it had been a possibility, but had never considered the reality of it.

"Two in ten chance," she nodded, extending her index finger to take a headcount of the room."That means statistically there should be two of us in here."

"Any guesses?"

"Not a clue," she shrugged. "All reckon they're seeing colour, but I wouldn't be surprised if one of them turned out to be succumbing to the placebo effect. It's like a pissing contest in here every week, seeing who can see the 'brightest', as if anyone other than the Doctors can judge that."

"Why so much focus on the intensity?" I scoffed, knowing that it never really mattered to me how brightly I could see colours, just the fact that I could see them was enough. Then again, if colours were nothing new to them, why would they be so bewitched by them?

"Oh, most of them got their colours by week three," she turned to face the table, filling her squeaky white cup up with more coffee. "Enough build-up of the drug and it was like a switch flipped. Boom. All in one."

"Didn't think that was how colours worked," I knitted my brows together, curiously intrigued about all of their experiences. Kenna might have slated them for how they discussed their colours, but I wanted to hear it all; how their colours had come to be and how it compared to naturally experiencing them.

"It's not," she conceded. "They roll in one by one, naturally. Everyone here seems to have just got them all in one go though. Seems like the drug is only good at replacing the destination, not the journey."

"Huh," I tilted my head with a small laugh, quietly thankful that I'd been able to experience a 'normal' build-up of colours. The doctors had warned me that my experience might be different as a result of the neurological deviation that I seemed to be privy to. "Weird."

"Yah," she nodded, not all too concerned with me. She just seemed to want to vent, to share her frustrations of the experience, so I let her talk for a while, not interrupting much. I'd not been paying too much attention, observing the room around me, secretly eavesdropping on other conversations when one of her statements caught my attention. "I just wanna get laid again."

"Sorry?" I laughed awkwardly, not too sure what her sex life had to do with our trials. 

"The stupid no dating stipulation of the trials," she sighed, before noting my dumbfounded look. "Oh, you haven't...?"

"Not really," I lied, ignoring her gasp.

"We're not allowed to," she laughed at me as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I supposed it was. Falling for someone would fuck with the results. 

"I had a girlfriend when I started the trial. They knew this," I clarified. "Still couldn't see colour though which is why they accepted me onto the trials. I'm an anomaly, of sorts. I mean we broke up, so it doesn't really matter."

"Oh, sorry to hear that," she grimaced awkwardly. "Still seeing colour, though?"

"Yeah, yeah," I nodded. "It's fine, she cheated on me so it wasn't much of a loss. She did kiss me once afterwards and I lost my colours for a solid few days," I admitted, not sure why I felt so comfortable telling a stranger such things. Perhaps the doctor was right, perhaps the support group did help. There was no judgement here, no false understanding. 

"Weird," she echoed my previous statement. "What did the clinic say about it?"

"Haven't told them yet," I shrugged, an old habit coming back to me like a trusty boomerang. I thought of Tiff and the half-truths I'd give to her in a bid to keep her sweet, and then I thought of Annie and the way she was too intuitive to ever let a white lie slide. She bought out the best in me, and I found myself smiling like a fool. "There is this girl though, a reporter who started covering the trials," I began, trying to find any excuse I could to talk about her.

"Oh, yeah, they mentioned her to me. Never heard from her though, guess you were the lucky one."

I guessed I was. I really, really was.

"She's really cool. Annie, her name is, she's been documenting the changes in my vision. It's gonna be strange to see it all finally in a report," I beamed, proud of the work she was doing.

"She's a reporter though, right?" Kenna hesitated, unsure on whether or not she wanted to rain on my parade. Ultimately, she decided that she did. "They're all the same, would do anything for a good scoop. She's probably just buttering you up to get an interesting story. I wouldn't trust her."

"What do you mean?" I laughed awkwardly at Kenna's judgement of Annie's character. She didn't know her. Who was she to assume these things?

"I mean, the more dirt she gets on you, the better the story," Kenna smirked, her eyes close to rolling. "Better hope you haven't let your guard down too much."

I mean, what constituted to letting my guard down? Annie and I had only ever been professional. Strictly business. Absolutely no funny business... Definitely hadn't seen her naked...But my god, the sight of her naked...

I had to force my brain to shut up and refocus for a second.

"She's not like that."

I absolutely believed in what I was saying. I trusted Annie.

"She's press. They're all like that."

For a second, the thought washed over me, casting shadows and tainting the memories of the woman I had woken up next to that morning. Darkness shrowded my thoughts of her, confliction tearing at my soul. 

"Better hope you haven't told her anything you wouldn't want the whole city to read," Kenna joked, not realising that I had given Annie almost all that I could; mentally, emotionally, physically. 

"Whole Country," I mumbled, remembering how ecstatic Annie had been when the senior editors had agreed to run the story Nationally. Her huge grin and excited clapping had made my heart swell, but now it felt like it was slowly deflating. "Double page spread in the National Gazette at the end of the trials."

"Damn," Kenna whistled. The sound echoed, piercing through my ears, ringing incessantly. 

I could still hear it even when I got home, slumping up the stairs and falling on to my bed in defeat. Using the toe of my shoe to press against the ankle of the opposite foot, I slid my boots off, letting them fall to the end of my mattress.

Is that why Annie had refused to talk about her colours? Because they weren't real? This was all just for her story?

"Kook? Is that you? You home?" Hobi called up towards me. I could hear his feet pitter-patter up the stairs as I groaned a response. I didn't fancy talking. "Rough day?"

"Something like that."

My day had been nothing short of incredible before I had left Annie's flat. It was everything that came afterwards which had soiled it.

"Wassup?" 

Hobi was looking at me, but my eyes stayed trained on the ceiling. Entertaining the conversation meant admitting that I'd fucked up, but ignoring it would eat away me. 

"How do you know?" I sighed. "How do you know that someone's seeing colours for you?"

"You don't, Kookie. You just gotta trust them."

I nodded, face void of all emotion, trying not to give away the inner turmoil I was going through.  Not once had Annie ever given me reason to distrust her, and yet here I was, letting the words of a stranger infiltrate my brain. 

"Kook?" Hobi stewed, seemingly understanding where my thought process was at. Of course he could. Anyone who had known me since I had met Annie would have been able to hazard a guess that I was talking about her. I was bloody besotted with her. "Annie's been colour coordinating her outfits for weeks, now. You only have to look at her to know. Don't you dare doubt her."

"How do you even know I was talking about her?" I scoffed, in a lame attempt to seem indifferent. It was stupid and childish, but I was scared. There had been a time when I thought Tiff would never fuck me over, and she still did. Trust wasn't something to be taken lightly. But Annie wasn't Tiff - and she never would be. Deep down I knew that.

"I know 'cause you look at her the same way Jimin looks at Chloe," Hobi shrugged, padding back down the stairs. "And I'd kill to have someone look at me the way that Annie looks at you, Kook. The pair of you are made for each other."

"But-"

"Shut up, Kook. I don't wanna hear it. Don't you dare fuck this up because of some stupid insecurity."

I felt like I was back in school, being told off by the principal. Hobi had a way of flipping a switch and going from sunshine to thunderstorm in an instant. The unpredictability of his nature was fervent. Scuffling about by the front door, I could picture him pulling on his bright white trainers, a thick orange puffa jacket slung around his shoulders. 

"I'm going to the shop, want anything?" He chimed, and I knew sunshine was back.

"Hold on," I groaned, not really wanting to roll out of bed but knowing I had to. "I'm coming with."

"Oh? What for?"

Swapping my dark coat for a khaki bomber and putting a pair of pale sneakers on my feet, I checked myself in the mirror. This was more like it, more like the outfit of a multi. 

"A wise man once dared me not to fuck things up. You know I can't say no to a dare," I smiled bashfully, casting an awkward glance down at my feet. Hobi was right. I couldn't let an insecurity ruin this for me; for us. I owed Annie more than letting my fears get the best of me. 

"See, this is why we always listen to Hobi," he beamed, ushering me out of the door. "Don't think I didn't notice the hickies, by the way. The two of you are fucking animals."

a/n: hi I love hobi