Annie

Days on trial: 71

I had been in love before.

I had studied eyes and learned the movements of muscles beneath skin. I had shared secrets and uttered nonsensical phrases exclusively to one person for months on end. I had seen colour before, and I was pretty sure that colour had seen me too.

But none of that mattered anymore. 

Those experiences were being overwritten, relived and relearned. It hadn't been intentional, but I supposed it was inevitable.

Before Jungkook, I'd never believed in the idea of an 'Iris'.

It was Chloe's favourite fairytale, the premise of almost all the Multi movies available on cable TV and the basis of far too many novels to ever possibly read. Jungkook had about six of them on his bookshelf dedicated to finding colour, sandwiched in between his copy of Titanic and a heavily noted first edition of Colour Theory for Dummies.

It was an ancient concept that had prevailed throughout history, named after the Greek goddess of rainbows. Mythology claimed that only your true love could see the colour of your eyes, unlocking a previously unknown hue simply by coming into view. Science had disproved this many moons ago, of course, but romanticism was too much fun to indulge in to let go of such a sweet idea.

Like cupid and true loves kiss, it was folklore, a fable for bedtime stories and Hollywood blockbusters. Still, Iris had become a universal nickname for the one that you loved.

I'd never called a boyfriend my Iris before. Jungkook had me thinking that maybe I should start.

He'd left mine a few hours ago to go and get ready for the evening, leaving me to try on at least 726 different outfits. New Year's Eve was big. It was the first time in a while I'd be going out for it, as I typically tended to be single over the festive period - not through choice, it was just how the cookie crumbled.

The dress code for the evening was strictly black and white, with an emphasis on the paler of the two. Welcoming the New Year in had always been a holiday celebrated by Multi's, not Mono's, and this was reflected in the party themes. Jungkook and I were headed to a paint party, one of the few remaining bullet points on his bucket list, and it was bound to get messy.

With a plunging v-line neck and open back, frilled cap sleeves added a little bit of demure elegance to the cropped top I had chosen. Fastening a bow around my neck and waist to keep it secure, I knew I was risking it by choosing to forgo a bra. Black high-waisted jeans left only a sliver of skin on show, but it was enough to let a sparkling gold body chain peak through.

Opening the door to Jungkook and his dorkily gaping jaw, I suddenly felt bolder in my choice, more brazen than I had done before.

"Shit, Annie," he simpered, claiming my hand in his and twirling me around underneath his arm to see me in 360 vision. "Are you sure we have to go out?"

"You'll get to bring me home," I promised with a wink, tying up my trusty white converse. Tonight didn't call for heels - I'd already made the mistake of going to a paint party in stilettos, and didn't fancy another 3am trip to A&E with a dislocated ankle again.

"Deal."

Tucking our tickets into my clutch, I took in the sight of him for the first time; ruffled hair just how I liked it, a large white shirt and jeans tight enough to cut off circulation. Precious about keeping his shoes pristine, he'd specifically chosen a pair of black leather laceups, no doubt so that he could clean them off in the morning after our hangovers had subsided.

"You're my boyfriend."

It took me a second to realise I'd spoken the words out loud, his head tilting like a golden retriever at my remark. "Hi. Yes. Correct."

"Sorry, I just," I exhaled all the air from my lungs, eyes wide, lips settling into a smile. "Wow."

"Feelings mutual, pretty baby."

We crossed town in a taxi, neither of us fancying the walk, stopping at a dive bar around the corner from the venue to get a few cheap drinks in us first. We weren't strangers to inflated bar prices, and thankfully both liked to pregame. Three tequila slammers and a couple shots later, we were ready to face the main event.

Chloe had been the one to purchase the tickets, so I knew that it was going to be extravagant and that we'd be a little bit out of place, but that never seemed to matter after a drink or twelve.

The club itself was predictably packed, a dancefloor sunk in the middle of the vast room and balconies wrapping around the upstairs level, overlooking the clustered crowd. Bass pumped through bodies, cannons from the stage shooting out UV paint sporadically, typically in time with the music. People were drenched, head to toe in a myriad of colours. I glanced up to Jungkook, smile brighter than a floodlight.

"Another one to cross off the bucket list," I nudged into him slightly, beyond pleased that he seemed happy.

"How did I ever get so lucky?" He beamed, scrunching his nose up ever so gently, smitten. Kissing my temple, he detached from me as he headed to the bar and I went to find the cloakroom. My clutch was annoying me already, so I would have much rathered just deposit it in there and pick it up at the end of the night.

Slipping the raffle ticket that the club used as a number system into the back of my phone case for safekeeping, I watched in awe as an onslaught of colour attacked my senses.

I used to believe that love was red, flames of passion that licked at open wounds, both healing and scarring at the same time. 

Jungkook had changed that. He'd shown me that love was like Kintsugi, the ancient Japanese art of repairing delicate pottery with liquid gold. Taking the broken pieces, the art form didn't try and pretend as if it had never been broken, but instead restored it, making it into something even more beautiful.

Like the early morning sun or a neatly fastened necklace, sitting pretty and proud for all to see, love was gold.

Jungkook himself was an aged vintage pocket watch ticking on by, lucky coins sinking to the bottom of magical fountains and medals worn by Olympic champions. He was chandeliers and gilded frames, sundials and his beloved acrylic paint; the pointed tip of a fountain pen and the metallic exterior of an ink well that held my favourite navy blue ink. He was summer sands and scalding rays of sunshine that melted ice cream down the sides of tawny cones.

When I finally found him, spotlit in the middle of a crowd and sipping on a pint of pale ale, I saw him for what he truly was.

Golden.

Light danced over his honey skin, hair slick with coloured paint that had been lost in his ebony mane, as his smile rose with the sight of me. Beckoning me towards him, he bellowed the words of a trap heavy party song until I was within touching distance. He closed the gap and the world around us melted away like molten ore until it was just me, him, the scent of shitty alcohol and alkaline paints.

Pinching the cup from his hand, I took a swig of his drink and grimaced at the bitter taste, causing him to laugh so loudly I could hear him above the music.

"Not a fan?" He smiled as I shook my head trying to rid myself of the taste. "Shame," he teased, taking it back and downing the alcohol with ease.

My fingers grasped onto his shirt so that I wouldn't lose him in the sea of wet bodies, saturated by paint, spilt drink and sweat. Jungkook himself was a mix of all three, and I still didn't think I had ever seen anyone more beautiful.

Tugging on my hand, Jungkook pulled me through the crowd. 

We navigated left, then right and then right again, but by the fourth turn, I'd lost track. Pushing through a pair of double doors into a corridor, the music of the main room drowned out into nothingness. Giggling like teenagers, we were completely lost, not a clue where we were going, but it didn't matter as long as we were together.

Ducking into a dark corner, he trapped my body between his warm torso and the cold brick wall, which had been painted black to no doubt hide the alcohol strains. With a hand either side of my head, he leant in slowly, resting his nose against mine. I edged up tenderly, urging him to get closer, until eventually he couldn't hold back.

Far sweeter than the cheap beer he had been drinking, his lips melted into me, his tongue kitten licking against mine just for an excuse to be as close to me as he possibly could be. I pulled his chest flush against my sternum, brows furrowed from the sheer intensity of the kiss we were indulging in. Moving a hand to my cheek to take control of the amorous exchange, Jungkook pulled away slowly, keeping his lips close enough for me to still feel them brush mine as he spoke.

"Keep kissing me like that and I'll have to take you home before midnight."

Smirking, standing on my tiptoes, I moved to his cheek, placing a delicate kiss and whispered in his ear. "I'm no Cinderella, Kook. You'll have to drag me out if you think I'm leaving before New Year strikes."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe," I flirted before yelping as he hoisted me upwards. "Kook!"

Folded over his broad shoulder, he kept me secure with his forearm, taking my weight with ease.

"You know I can't say no to a dare," he feigned innocence as he walked towards the doors that lead into the main room - but thankfully putting me back on my feet before opening them. Stealing a kiss from me with a smile, he was every bit the Prince Charming I'd never known I needed. "But I also can't say no to you, so I guess we'll stay."

"Don't say it like there was ever choice in the matter."

"Annie, I literally just proved I could drag you out?!" He pushed his head back by the absurdity of my statement.

"You'd have to catch me first," I squealed, launching myself through the double doors and into the crowd of people. I was headed to the bar, where there was a perfect vantage spot of the club, so even if he did lose me, I'd be able to find him.

Smile plastered on my tipsy face, I ignored the paint that poured onto me from the cannons, coating my skin in neon, staining my white shirt in colours that glowed beneath the UV lights. I'd only reached to halfway through the crowd when a familiar hand clasped mine and pulled me back around to face him. Our hands were wet from paint, sliding despite his strong grasp.

Greeted by a scrunched nose, pink and blue paint coating his face and a brilliant white smile offsetting the vibrant colours, I was utterly smitten. He pulled me in tightly towards him, rubbing his face in the crook of my neck, covering me in paint. My hands found his hair, using it as a towel in a bid to get my own back. Hands around my waist, lips finding mine again through a fit of giggles, we couldn't care less about the onslaught of paint that was spraying its way down onto the drunk revellers around us.

Towards the middle of the crowd, the combination of slippery paint and mingling bodies still trying to dance the night away saw a domino effect, people toppling down one by one. Too enthralled with one another to notice, we found ourselves knocked and dragged down too, the grip of our shoes redundant against the slick poster paint that coated the floor.

I fell first, hauling him down with me, yelping like a puppy. Crumpled together like balls of paper tossed into a trashcan, our limbs tangled, keeping us close. Laughter encapsulated our entire beings, not caring if we looked like idiots - we felt like idiots, and that was the beauty of it.

I looked at him, my beautiful, happy, idiot and I knew that he was it for me.

He was my colours; my iris.

My idiot.

Holding his palm out, completely disregarding that he was saturated from head to toe, Jungkook attempted to pull us both up. As if we were novices on rollerskates, we slipped back down to the ground instantly, and found it somehow even funnier than the first time.

Drunk and out of coordination, our bodies just weren't behaving like they were supposed to. Eventually, friendly revellers who had also suffered the same fate as us, but were a little steadier on their feet, helped us up. I found myself clutching on to Jungkook for dear life just in case it happened again.

"Guess you could say I fell for you," he joked, wiping his face on the underside of his t-shirt, exposing his lower torso as he did so.

"Does it really count if I dragged you down?" I laughed as he held his hemline up towards my face, brushing against it gently. There was paint in my eyelashes, pinks and oranges that vignetted my visuals, but not once did it distract from the rainbow of a man in front of me. Stroking across my cheek, ridding it of the thick layer of paint, Jungkook looked at me like I was the only person in the room.

"Yeah," he nodded bashfully, pursing his lips together with a smile that almost looked proud. "Yeah, it does, Annie."

Kissing the cheek of mine that he had just cleaned off, Jungkook felt like ice on a hot summers day, soothing my soul.

"C'mon, we need more drinks," he chanted, guiding me towards the bar, hands wrapped ever so gently around the nape of my neck. "Let's get fucked up."

a/n:

chapter from jimin coming up nexxxttttt !!! we'll see what he's up to over on jeju...