Chapter Text
The day has started well and now, with this, it should end well too. Namjoon pulls the chair back for his date and she flashes him a gracious smile before flicking her hair over her shoulder and taking a seat. He gives her a charming grin of his own and a soft hand on the shoulder before settling down himself into the seat across from her. The place is huge. One of those fancy, marble floored, every-waiter-wears-a-bow tie sort of places. It took a bit to save up for, but he managed to hook one of the better seats in the place. While he kept his composure, in truth it was his first time taking anyone out for dinner to a joint as fancy as this. He was sure she was the one. For sure, his ring of fate would land soon. Then he could relax. Ah. It would be so great to settle down and relax with a girl in his arms who smelt of lavender and smiles. Yeah, the world would be pretty perfect if that happened.
“Did you hear about … her?” Namjoon’s ears instantly pick the gossip from a table of two girls sitting close to their own. He grits his teeth. He knows exactly what they would most likely be referring to.
“I know! And it was with a complete stranger!” replies a girl with a softer voice.
“I can’t believe I know her,” says the first, again, continuing.
“You’re so lucky. You should become friends with her. It’s lucky you know, to be friends with one of them,” the softer spoken girl says.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Their luck rubs off on you and you have a higher risk of finding your true love too!”
“No way!”
“ahhhh, you have to get a selfie with her. I want to see how they look on her.”
“It might look a little weird, don’t you think? A blue ring around dark eyes?”
“No I think it would look amazing! Oh! What if she has a green ring?”
“ohhh that would be sooo pretty!”
At this point Namjoon is rolling his eyes. Rings of fate they were called. Sure, they were real. It was common knowledge.
“Do you find their talk interesting, Namjoon?” Namjoon’s dark eyes find the face of his date. He smiles dismissively.
“Nah. I just thought they’d be used to it by now. I mean every long term couple gets their rings someday. I can’t see how it’s still so gossip worthy.” He sees her shake her head to this.
“Yes, well,” she begins, moving a strand of hair behind an ear, “but it’s undoubtedly amazing when people get really contrasting iris rings. It’s cute and romantic don’t you think?” It’s Namjoon’s turn to shake his head. He can’t help but give a small snicker. He sees her give him a look. “What?” she asks, trouble bubbling in her tone. He takes a moment to process what she means.
“What? You don’t believe that, do you?” he asks incredulously. She blinks in response to his doubt. He continues. “I haven’t met anyone who has ever gotten an iris ring more than a tone or two lighter. Hazel at the most on a brown eye.”
“Namjoon! Just because you haven’t seen it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist! You can just google it! There are tons of photos!” Namjoon sighs to her adamance.
He just couldn’t believe that so called ‘fated pairs’ really existed. His parents had been happily married for more than twenty years. They were so tender and loving with one another but all they had to show for it were faint rings, barely noticeable. It didn’t seem fair. Why did one couple, who’d just met and fallen in love spontaneously, get such bright and eye-catching iris rings while a couple that worked hard for years to complete one another in the most nuanced ways get basically nothing, an unnoticeable ring?
“People can edit amazing things into photos these days. Most of those images are probably just a ‘see what you’d look like as a fated pair’ kinda Facebook bullshit.” He stops in his tracks, he can tell he’s upset her.
“So you don’t think it’s even a bit romantic?” her voice has risen in pitch only slightly but it’s enough. He knows her well enough that he can read what it means almost perfectly.
“Oh baby, I’m sorry.” He takes up one of her hands then, locking his eyes into hers. He can feel her flush when he flashes her an apologetic smile and kisses her soft hands. “It’s romantic, yeah. It’s amazing. But I just don’t think that fated pairs actually happen that much anymore.”
She’s happier now that he’s treating her the way she likes it. He knows she likes to be doted on. And that was ok. Everyone needs a bit of attention every once in a while.
Just as he’s thinking he wants to make sure everything goes right, it feels like something sharp has lodged itself into his head. It was as if a thunder cloud had suddenly appeared to rain over his head. He tries to dismiss it but it lingers annoyingly over him. He has to pull back and sit up straighter to blink it away. He slips a hand from her grasp puts it to his temple. The pain fades. He has to take a breath.
“Joon, honey, what’s wrong?” he tries to smile at her, do anything to seem like he’s O.K. But he’s not being convincing.
“I’m fine, babe. Aha… I think I’m just a little nervous.” He sees her call a waiter over.
“Excuse me, can we get some water please?”
A nondescript waiter nods.
“I’m sorry miss, I’ll get that right away. I apologise. We are unfortunately a tad understaffed today. We’ve just had a few extra staff members arrive however. The rest of your night should be perfect.”
It doesn’t quite go that way. The water arrives and swiftly Namjoon starts to feel a little better after the first cooling sip. Not a hundred percent better but at least he can focus, make her laugh with his quick wit and smiles. They each order something unique with an Italian name that Namjoon somehow works out the meanings for. Mostly thanks to a bit of contextualisation and some decent guesswork. The food better than great, it is absolutely amazing. At least in the beginning it is.
But all the while there is this niggle in the back of his mind that he can’t seem to get rid of, this heavy feeling in his gut. He should be enjoying himself so much more. It just gets worse. The interest he has in his girl seems to leave him faster than water draining out of sieve. When did her laugh ever sound like that? It suddenly seems really shrill. Had she always been this demanding when it came to him spoiling her?
He’d imagined that by now he would be becoming lost in his girlfriend’s eyes and they’d be about ready to leave early and head back to his place to spend the rest of the night uninterrupted. But he can barely hear a word she’s saying. It doesn’t interest him. His dark eyes are wandering over to other tables, to other people’s food and their conversations and before he can help himself he’s asked her to repeat herself three times in a row.
“Namjoon, what is going on with you today?” she’s asking him suddenly. That’s a fair enough enquiry. It is weird. He just digs his fork into his food and swirls it around. He shakes his head softly.
“Sorry, I- I just don’t feel too good at the moment.” Her face wears a worried expression but her eyes are severe. She seems seem like she is annoyed with him. She slides a hand up over his left hand that’s sitting on the table. He can feel her acrylic nails on his skin. His headache worsens again and he drops his fork into the bowl to grind a palm into his temple again. She releases him then. It’ clear to him now that there is something wrong. He stands, chair grating back. “I… need to piss.” For all his intelligence it is the best thing he can come up with on the spot.
Namjoon trudges to the bathroom feeling like a man hung-over from a week’s worth of drinking. He loosens his collar on the walk. The hand basin in the men’s bathroom is his saving grace and he grips the side of it like a man possessed. His reflection doesn’t look so great. He supposes that must mean he doesn’t look too crash hot either. He does the cliché thing that everyone has done at least once. He douses his face in cold water and tries to get a grip on himself. The water is like a jolt of electricity. He feels his entire face tighten up, each muscle in his face shocked awake. It’s not exactly a refreshing feeling but it does the job.
Whatever was going on, it didn’t need to be so drawn out. Why was this happening now? Was he getting sick? No one in the studio today had had even so much as a head cold. Was this just a sign? And to think he’d been so keen for tonight. Namjoom looks at his face in the mirror. An anxious man with a hidden dimple looks back at him, eyes fierce and determined, yet so fragile they look like they might crack the mirror. He wants the other him to move first. Perhaps seeing someone else leave first might help him settle down further. He stands there for a while, just waiting, but soon he comes to realise he can’t stand there forever waiting for the man in the mirror to move first. He calls it a draw and, as always, they both pull away from the frame at the same time.
Namjoon exits the bathroom only slightly better than when he’d entered. With the fall of the sun over the edge of the earth, the lighting inside the restaurant has changed to a darker tone. It’s moodier, more romantic. But it makes it harder for him to see the table. He has to squeeze between other tables and waiters and patrons.
As Namjoon picks his way through the people, he sees the upcoming calamity right before it happens. He sees the waiter in the corner of his eye and some automatic part of his brain assumes the man has seen him too and will stop for him. But that doesn’t happen. The waiter dozes straight into him, a tray of drinks crashing to the floor and half over an unprepared Namjoon. He gets soaked in an assortment of cocktails and white wines. They both trip over the shock of the sudden collision and are suddenly on the floor together. The waiter has landed on top of him and is already apologising, moving and trying to untangle their limbs. Namjoon almost cops an elbow to the face but he bobs his head in time to avoid it.
“Sir, I am so sorry.” The waiter’s voice is sincere but there is a tired nag to it that Namjoon can oddly understand. He tries to fumble out some words of his own.
“Ah no, It’s my fault too, really I should be the –”
Namjoon locks eyes with the most handsome face he has ever seen and it is then that he is truly speechless. It’s like his brain ha crashed. He can’t tear his gaze away. He drinks in that confused expression, those full lips and deep eyes like a dying man in a desert. His hand comes up to that face so softly, just holding, looking, silent. Oh god did someone send him an angel or has he died and gone to some type of heaven? The waiter in his lap is like a deer in the headlights. He seems just as captivated as Namjoon. They barely breathe. Namjoon feels like a new man reborn and a warmth blossoms in his chest that makes him smile.
Then, as suddenly as their pure moment had started, it ends. Other staff members are pulling the waiter away from him, a barrage of apologies are launched at him and someone hands him a serviette. By the time he looks up, the unknown waiter has been ushered away and only a manager is left with him.
The song writer blinks and comes to his senses partially. His mind switches to something equivalent to autopilot and a few minutes later he is stumbling back to his table, not sure what exactly he should do with himself. He sits down in a daze. His date raises an eye brow then her expression melts and she lets out a shocked gasp, a hand raising to cover her mouth.
“N-Namjoon!”
He gives her the most confused look.
“Ah yeah,” he starts, remembering the drinks that had been spilled over him and looking down at himself. “I kind of ran into a waiter carrying a tray full of drinks.”
“No!” she exclaims. “Baby, your eyes!”
He’s even more confused and she reads it on his face instantly. What, did he have a black eye from the fall or something? She starts scrabbling through her handbag looking for something. A chipped compact mirror is hastily hand to him. He takes it and hold it up to inspect his face. He can barely breathe.
A ring of bright blue outlines his normally dark eyes.