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Colors become clearer the more the world reveals its nature. Blue is only a primary color until its reflected on someone’s eyes. Green is a constant pigment until the exploration of shades are far, more beautiful on the plants that grow in a garden.
The true nature of a person’s intentions is not as easy as finding out what color reveals mixing green with blue. Nor the meaning it will be assigned when its associated with an important connection.
Which is why Jihoon sits between a revolving door that keeps teasing him to leave and the blind date that agreed to meet him. There is no reason for this stranger to meet Lee Jihoon. He is normally single and happy with his job. No miseries present in his life. He was raised in a normal home with normal parents. So, it brings the questions as to why his friends invited him to a dinner to celebrate Seungkwan’s supposedly promotion from a freelance journalist to editor-in-chief at a nice company. He is happy with his life and does not require a significant other. Did his friends think he needed to get laid?
The lie is Seungkwan’s promotion.
“What’s your favorite color?”
Jihoon grabs his wine glass and downs half of it. He does not have a talking stage left in him for another meaningless date though his favorite color is blue.
Seungcheol’s eyes are brown. He's an attractive man with a gummy smile and cleans up well in a suit. He smiles again with the deepest dimples and answers his own question.
“Mine is green,” Seungcheol says as he opens the bottle and pours more wine for Jihoon. He prepares to eat while Jihoon sighs. He looks at the brown eyes, and Jihoon decides to roll with it.
“Brown.” He places cloth on his lap and picks up the fork and knife.
“You look like you don’t wanna be here, Jihoon,” Seungcheol drinks some water, “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m hungry so suffer with me for a bit. I just got off work.”
Seungcheol takes off his suit jacket and hangs it on his chair. He rolls his sleeves and loosens his tie. His posture drops and puts his elbows on the table. Jihoon munches on a piece of steak and watches how a collected man takes off his mask. His nature blooms out of the businessman façade.
“I didn’t know I was attending a blind date. I thought I was here for emotional support for my group of friends.” Jihoon replies.
“Ah, so you know Seungkwan?” Seungcheol chuckles and ducks down as his cheeks turn red, “He convinced me that the date would be perfect for me. He said I was always busy and found another busy guy that could’ve understood my schedule.”
Jihoon frowns and promises to himself to hide all Seungkwan’s pens. Small and petty but effective.
“So, what are your intentions Mr. Choi. A good time or a long time?”
Seungcheol sniffs and reaches for his own glass of wine. He swirls the drink and tastes it.
“I don’t know. What are you willing to offer? I like emotional connections. I like to feel things with mutual emotional desire. Makes things more intense and meaningful.”
“Emotional connection gives meaning. It complicates things.” Jihoon looks down, unable to meet his eyes.
“Tough past?” Seungcheol asks softly. The clinking and the tapping in the restaurant subside into white noise. Jihoon looks up to a concerned man.
“Sure. There’s always a tough past to anyone.”
Seungcheol nods and smiles.
“How about this?” Seungcheol reaches with an open palm and lays his hand towards Jihoon, “Let's pretend we’re not fucked up with some pessimistic way of life. Let's pretend we’re in a world full of vibrant colors. Just for today, we are in love, and this date is our yearly anniversary.”
Jihoon’s eyebrows rise towards his hairline. He stares.
“What’s my benefit?” Jihoon asks with a shake of his head.
“There isn’t one for me either.” Seungcheol smiles again. Jihoon stares at the hand across the table. At the end of the day, both will return to their regular lives and forget this occasion. A funny story for their friends. Maybe grill them for misjudging the compatibility level between them. Because there isn't one. Jihoon will waste his time today. Might as well waste it with some entertainment.
“Fine.” Jihoon lays his hand on top of Seungcheol’s. Seungcheol smiles with his teeth and closes his fingers around Jihoon’s palm.
“How was your day, love? I bought that lamp set you always wanted in the book room.” Seungcheol beams as he leans his head on his other hand. He caresses Jihoon’s wrist.
Jihoon takes in a breath, and let’s his walls crumble to the ground until his heart peeks under his sleeve. He looks at Seungcheol’s eyes and wonders if green and blue make brown.
“I told you not to. I wanted to buy it myself, Cheol.” Jihoon turns a pretty pink and Seungcheol smirks.
“You wouldn’t have bought it if I hadn’t.”
“Cheol, stop spoiling me.” Jihoon grumbles and focuses on his meal.
“You like me spoiling you. I like spoiling you. I like giving you everything I can,” Seungcheol intertwines their fingers and picks up his fork, too. Jihoon smiles a real smile. His eyes like crescent moons, and Seungcheol stares in wonder.
“Shut up. Seungkwan would laugh at me. He thinks I will die alone if I keep the cold and quiet look.” Jihoon looks around, making sure his dongsaeng is not eavesdropping.
“You’re warm to me right now, love.” Seungcheol squeezes his hand, and Jihoon looks back to his eyes.
Meaning isn't defined until a connection is made. Jihoon smiles, squeezes back, and decides to let those brown eyes show him its true color. The little specks of gold and black are not special until Seungcheol kisses his hand as the date finishes. They hold hands until they are outside of the restaurant.
“Jihoon-ah,” Seungcheol pulls him in, “work just called.”
His eyes are sad. They droop, and Jihoon can tell the lie needs to end like this.
“Again?” Jihoon’s voice kind of breaks at the end. He holds on to Seungcheol’s hand tight.
“I’m sorry, love. I will see you at home?” Seungcheol kisses Jihoon’s forehead, and Jihoon sighs. He burrows his nose further into Seungcheol’s chest, feels a pull in his heart. He wants to connect but unable to commit.
“I love you.” Jihoon mumbles, and he feels Seungcheol’s arms circle around his shoulders and waist.
“I love you, too.”
As Jihoon drives to his one-bedroom apartment where there is not enough space for a library nor a lamp set. No warm browns to paint his walls and his kitchen. No smiles thrown at his heart in the morning. Jihoon lays on his bed wishing Seungcheol’s intentions were true.