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.
