Point of View

by Allnighter_Friend

Summary:

“What would you say is your most prominent feature? The one everyone notices first.”

 

“My lips,” he answers right away.

 

“And what does everyone notice about your lips?"

 

“They’re big. People like big lips."

 

Jeongguk likes big lips...

 

-

Jeongguk wants to try something a little unconventional for his end of the year art project. He wants to paint someone he's never seen using their own description of themselves. He likes the idea, but doesn't fancy trusting a stranger in his space, and nearly scraps the project, until Taehyung informs him he knows someone trustworthy who would be perfect.

Park Jimin is awkward but sweet. A specific kind of lovely that Jeongguk can't help but become enamoured with, and as he sketches and paints different renditions of a man he can only hear, but cannot see, he becomes increasingly eager for the day when he'll finally be able to take him in with his own eyes, positive that every version he's created on paper or canvas falls remarkably short.

Notes:

Came up with the prompt for this based off of two pictures I saw on twitter. This is dialogue heavy, so if that's not your thing, fair warning.

 

Here's a lovely trailer by the even lovelier TheMoon_HisSun

Chapter 1: Charcoal

 

Gorgeous artwork commissioned by самтаймс meg and created by A L E K .D A R

 

 

 

It’s sunny in the quad, bright in the way it always gets after raining for nearly two days straight. Rays of light reflect off of the puddles that cover the white stone pathways, Jeongguk’s eyes squinting, no longer safe as he walks with his head down in an effort to avoid stepping in them. 

His boots are new, and he doesn’t want to get them wet.

He stops in front of a four sided bulletin board; the kind they have interspersed throughout campus, filled with overflowing flyers in search of one thing or another. His eyes flit over a few, all different colors and typefaces, most of which are terribly waterlogged, no longer legible. Still, he’s starting to understand the mechanics of such things, as it were, the top of the paper detailing a summary of whatever service or need is required, while the bottom half is filled with cut strips marked with a phone number anyone can rip away if interested. 

Jeongguk doesn’t like that. The thought of giving out his phone number to complete strangers an unpleasant one. In fact, the more he thinks about it, the more he’s starting to dislike his idea entirely, which is unfortunate, because now he has to come up with something else. His shoulders fall, and he’s just about to leave when someone brushes against his side, making him step back and away.

Right into a puddle.

Jeongguk’s eyes fly up, ready to obliterate whoever it is with a truly scathing look when he takes in a familiar profile.

Kim Taehyung; a fellow art student and friend, stares up at the board critically, one eyebrow raised.

“What are we looking at?”

“Huh?”

Taehyung points out a flyer in a faded blue color, one that Jeongguk has to stand on the tips of his toes to better read. 

“Looking for a no-strings-attached FB?”

“... FB?”

“Fuck buddy, Jeongguk-ah.”

He splutters, shaking his head adamantly, teeth worrying his lips, solidifying his conclusion that this was a terrible idea. 

"How about a room for rent? You have to have double D's, though."

Taehyung eyes Jeongguk's chest; the way the material of his black turtleneck stretches over it, and purses his lips.

"Almost, but not quite."

Jeongguk battles the urge to cross his arms and scoffs, cuffing the back of Tae's head, though he hardly reacts.

“No, actually. I was just researching. Kind of. I wanted to see how to make one of these," he admits, gesturing to the flyers. "I’ve never done it before.”

“Oh, so you’re looking for something? Anything I can help you with?”

Jeongguk shrugs, deciding there’s no harm in telling him, especially if he’s not going to go through with it anyways.

“It was for my art project,” he admits. “I had this idea where I would draw someone I can’t see, and…well, it sounds stupid out loud.”

Taehyung shushes him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and ushering him away from the board, taking a path that leads to one of their favorite coffee shops, the older man squeezing his bicep with a glint in his eye.

“You’re done for the day, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Tell hyung about this idea that you have. I wanna hear all about it,” he encourages, and Jeongguk sighs, because he knows Taehyung won’t let him drop it now.

They’re quiet until after they’ve ordered, Tae choosing something sweet, not fond of coffee, and Jeongguk lists off an iced americano with a double shot, needing the caffeine to stay functioning. A table opens up in the corner in front of the large window, and he follows Taehyung as he moves quickly to snatch it, tactfully ignoring the glare from another student who attempted to do the same but was too slow, the shop getting busy this time of day.

“So,” he starts, eyes bright when they both take their seats, that familiar smirk curling his lips upwards. “Tell me everything.”

Jeongguk takes a purposefully long pull on his drink, watching from lowered lids as Taehyung’s smirk twitches at his antics, making him grin. His lips release the paper straw sticking to them, and he’s quiet for a moment longer just to be a brat before answering. 

“It was an idea for our end of the year project.”

“Was?”

“Don’t think I wanna do it anymore.”

“Why?”

Jeongguk lifts one shoulder in an absent shrug, taking another drink, though shorter this time.

“I’m beginning to think it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Explain,” Taehyung encourages, rotating his wrist in invitation before stirring his own straw in lazy circles, his one word responses making it hard for Jeongguk not to smile fully.

“I had this idea,” he starts off again. “I wanted to paint someone I’ve never seen by going off of their description of themselves.”

Taehyung blinks at him, a slow lowering of his lids that makes Jeongguk feel almost jittery. 

Though that could just be from the americano.

“And why don’t you want to do it anymore?”

Jeongguk shrugs again. 

“I’d have to make one of those ads, give out my phone number, trust a stranger enough to let them into my studio while I’m blindfolded, and yeah. No thanks.”

Taehyung appears contemplative, eyes curving towards the ceiling while he thinks. 

“Is that your only hang up?”

“It’s a pretty big hang up,” Jeongguk mutters around his straw, ignoring Taehyung’s scoff.

“Okay, but if I perhaps knew someone who might just be perfect for this idea of yours, would you wanna get in touch with them?”

Jeongguk is…intrigued. 

“You know them well?”

“I do.”

“Well enough to know they won’t take advantage of me? Like I said, I’ll have to be blindfolded when I let them into my place. The last thing I need is to wake up to all of my shit stolen.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. 

“He’s not gonna steal your paint brushes, Jeongguk, relax.”

“Art supplies are expensive,” he defends with a pointed finger, glaring when Taehyung chuckles. 

“Give me some credit. I wouldn’t have suggested him if I thought he was a thief. I’ve known him for years.”

“How come I’ve never met him before, then?”

Taehyung shrugs, taking a sip of his sugary drink.

“Different circles,” he guesses, unconcerned. “You want me to ask him, or not?”

Jeongguk stares at his own drink, watching the condensation run down the glass as he tilts his head. 

“You can ask him,” he decides, showing no investment either way as he takes another long pull, the caffeine feeling as if it settles him. 

“Multiple sittings?” Taehyung questions, engrossed in his phone as he likely pulls up the contact for whoever he has in mind. 

“Yeah. It’s gonna be a series. Different mediums, formats, etcetera, etcetera.”

“How much are you offering?”

“I am but a poor art student.”

Taehyung cocks an unconvinced brow at him, and Jeongguk grins, waving his hand. 

“Twelve thousand won an hour.”

“Oooh, generous.”

Jeongguk shrugs, trapping the straw between his lips again, hands in his lap. 

“When are you starting?”

“If this works out, whenever he’s available,” he mumbles around the cylindrical paper, chasing it when it escapes from his lips. “It would have to be in the evening, though.”

Taehyung nods, fingers flying over his phone, the soft clicking from the keyboard oddly soothing. 

“There, I gave him your number. He should call you if he decides he’s interested.”

“Just let him know I’ll need an answer soon. If this falls through I have to come up with something else.”

Taehyung stares at his phone, the corners of his lips curling upwards before he sets it back down on the table. 

“He’ll get in touch later to go over details. Don’t screen your calls.”

“Text me his number so I know it’s him.”

Taehyung picks his phone back up with a sigh, tapping at the screen for a moment before Jeongguk feels his pocket vibrate. 

“Be gentle with him, he’s my friend.”

Jeongguk looks up at the older man from beneath his lashes, the straw still held in his mouth.

“If he can handle you , I’ll be a walk in the park.”

°•🎨🖌•°

Jeongguk’s phone rings around seven, his eyes glued to a portrait he’s working on, the end of a paintbrush held in the grip of his teeth, while another rests behind his ear, keeping his long hair pinned in place to stop it from falling into his eyes. A temporary fix since he doesn’t want to redo the bun on top of his head with paint on his hands. 

Removing it from the strands is tedious.

He nearly falls when he moves to pull his phone from the pocket of his apron, forgetting that he’s perched precariously on his stool, knees bent, balancing on the tips of his toes. Jeongguk climbs off and sits down on it properly, managing to get his phone free and accept the call before it goes to voicemail.

“…Hello?”

The other end is quiet, and Jeongguk purses his lips, eyes narrowing, but only because he doesn’t like the shade of peach that has begun to dry on his partially finished canvas, which had looked better on his palette. 

Or maybe it’s because he lost the natural lighting when the sun set...

Someone takes a deep breath in his ear and it pulls his attention away, reminding him he’s on the phone. 

“Is this Jeon Jeongguk?”

“Speaking.”

He scrapes at the color with his palette knife, frown deepening. 

“This is Park Jimin. Taehyung gave me your number.”

Park Jimin.

The name doesn’t ring a bell.

“...Oh, right!” Jeongguk recalls. “He told you about my art project.”

“Um, he didn’t tell me much, actually. So I was wondering if you could talk to me about it a little bit more. I just want to know what to expect.”

“Right, of course.” 

Jeongguk spins around, giving his back to the painting so he can focus properly. 

“Have you ever modeled before?”

“Only for pictures. Taehyung does photography.”

“Well, this would be a lot different. I plan to do a series, which would mean multiple sittings." He explains, tracing his lips with the roughened, chewed tip of his brush as he rambles. "My project’s focus is capturing someone based on how they perceive themselves. So, in other words, I can’t see you. And before you ask, yes, it has to be in person. Even if I won't be looking at you as a reference, I still want you to sit for me. Personal preference, I guess you can call it. Is that agreeable?"

"O-Of course," Jimin stutters, rushed. "I don't mind."

"Excellent! You would come to my studio— which is also my apartment, full disclosure—and describe to me what you look like. After a couple of times doing it in this way, I would then recreate those same projects with you in front of me, a kind of…how you see yourself versus how others see you. Others being me, of course.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“Right!” he exclaims excitedly, feeling validated. “It’s an extensive project, though, so the sooner you’re available, the better.”

“Taehyung said evenings are the best time for you?”

“Oh yes. Evenings are when I usually work.”

He can’t help it, he spins back around on his stool and frowns. That peach color, though…very disappointing. 

“I can do evenings, that isn’t a problem.”

“Is there a different problem?”

“I uh…Taehyung said you would pay, and I—I just lost my last job.”

“You lost it? Oh ! You were fired,” Jeongguk hums when understanding dawns, Jimin releasing a sound over the line that is a cross between a snort and a gasp. Or maybe a giggle. Hard to tell. 

“I would pay, of course. Twelve thousand won an hour, if you're amenable.”

“Twelve, are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You would only be sitting for a couple of hours a few days a week. Is that not okay, or…?”

“Oh, no. That’s perfect.”

Jeongguk smiles, pleased. 

“Great, now that that's out of the way, when can you start?”

“Whenever you need.”

That pleases him further. 

“The sooner the better. Is tomorrow around five okay?”

“I can do that.”

Jeongguk beams. 

“I’ll text you my address.”

“Okay. Thank you for this, by the way. You’re really helping me out.”

He frowns at that, placing his paintbrush in the wooden groove of his easel.

“I feel like I should be the one telling you that.”

Jimin laughs, a light tinkling sound that Jeongguk compares to a bell. Wind chimes, maybe...

It’s pleasant. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jeongguk-ssi.”

“I’d say the same, but...I won’t see you, technically.”

Jimin laughs again, and Jeongguk never realized he was this funny. Usually his sense of humor goes over people’s heads. 

There’s also the possibility that Jimin doesn’t find him funny at all, and is only laughing so he’ll get his money.

But he chooses to believe that it’s because he is funny. 

“Have a goodnight, Jimin-ssi,” he says in farewell, attention already back on the canvas. Phone slipping from his fingers, but he still hears it anyway.

“Goodnight.”

He decides it is. It is a good night.

°•🎨🖌•°

Jeongguk prepares the next day. 

He made a decision on the medium while lying in bed the night before, unable to sleep as he stared up at his high ceiling, exposed pipes creating a maze of linework for his eyes to follow. 

Charcoal, he had decided. For the first piece he’ll use Charcoal. 

Jeongguk hates using charcoal. 

It gets everywhere, the type he works with ground into a fine dust, and he still finds traces of it weeks after he’s done with it. 

He could say the same about paint, but paint is different. He loves paint. And it’s more romantasized than charcoal, anyways, even though Titanic is one of his favorite movies, and Jack’s preferred tool was compressed charcoal. 

His only character flaw, in Jeongguk’s opinion. 

Earlier in the day he visited a local thrift store, discovering a wonderful find. It’s a thick, heavy, blue velvet curtain, large enough that he wondered in passing if it was used for the stage, the design elegant, detailed, with tassel drawstrings in a glittering gold color. 

It cost less than five won. A steal.

His studio apartment is a decent size, but it has no walls; an open floor plan, save for the bathroom, and he can’t very well ask Jimin to sit in there for hours at a time. Taehyung would scold him. 

So the curtain is necessary. 

He stretches a thick, corded washing line with the heavy blue velvet secured to it from one wall to the other, sectioning off his home by a half, horizontally. 

Jimin can sit on one side, and he’ll be on the other. 

Jeongguk prepares his side first, setting up an easel and placing the special thick paper he’ll need on the wooden frame, securing it in place. He makes sure the lighting is good, turning on all of his lamps and spotlights before retrieving the stained pouch that holds the chiseled pencils and tools he’ll need, blackened and smudged from the coal. He sets it on the table that rests next to the easel, and adds a glass of water, hoping that it’ll force him to remember to stay hydrated.

He forgets simple things like that while he works. 

Next, he gets Jimin’s side ready, making sure it’s tidy. Comfortable. He pulls an armchair towards the center of the space, then grabs a secondary easel from next to his bed and sets it before the chair, where he carefully places a cheap mirror on the frame for Jimin’s use. He fills another glass with water, and positions it on the tiny end table he drags next to the chair, in case he gets thirsty as well. 

“What’s missing?” he murmurs to himself, fingers gripping his chin, teeth sinking into his bottom lip in thought. 

“Ah!” he cries, rushing towards his nightstand and digging through its contents. 

Jeongguk pulls free a simple, black blindfold, something he made use of when he first moved in, the windows large and letting in the lights from the bright neon signs outside as they came alive at night. He stubbornly refused to buy any blinds or curtains, not wanting to block any light when he paints and too lazy to go around opening and closing them every night. He barely got any sleep in those days, not used to it. The blindfold had helped, though he no longer needs it. 

But at least it’s found a new purpose.

The last thing he does is tie up his hair, securing the side strands with some pins he bought at a convenience store earlier so they don't obstruct his vision.

It’s exactly five o’clock when there’s a knock on his door. 

“Punctual,” he comments, pleased, and moves towards it, almost ruining everything by looking through the peephole. 

“Aish,” he hisses, body jerking to a halt when he stops himself. “Who is it?” he calls. 

“Park Jimin.”

Jeongguk dons his blindfold, feeling around in front of him for the lock and finding it easily enough. He slides the deadbolt back and pulls the door open carefully, feeling strangely exposed. Vulnerable.

He swears he hears a sharp intake of breath, but he can’t be sure. 

“Hi,” he waves awkwardly, momentarily wondering if he’s even looking in the right direction. “I'm Jeon Jeongguk...wanna come in?”

“Okay,” Jimin answers, sounding slightly unsure. "Should I remove my shoes?"

"Yes, please. You can place them next to mine," he instructs, pointing down in the general direction he thinks his boots are, but by Jimin's soft laugh, he probably misses the mark entirely. 

Jeongguk quickly steps aside, running into the door and nearly stumbling, though he rights himself quickly. 

He detects notes of something ambrosial. Pleasant, but not overbearing, as he both hears and feels the man walk past him into the apartment, a shift in the air.

“You’re inside, right?”

“I am,” Jimin answers, and there’s that amusement in his tone again that makes Jeongguk want to feel smug. 

He is funny.

Jeongguk closes the door, feeling his way up the smooth wooden surface until he finds the lock and slides it back into place. He turns slowly, hoping he’s at least somewhat facing Jimin when he addresses him—

But Jimin speaks first.

“I like your shirt.”

Jeongguk’s brow furrows and he automatically looks down before he shakes his head at himself.

“What’s on it?” he asks, having already forgotten.

It gets quiet, Jimin sounding off-footed when he answers. 

“Till death, do we art.”

“Oh, yes. I like that one too.” 

It falls silent again, and Jeongguk hastens to speak, wanting to start and ignore the awkwardness of the entire situation.

“If you wanna just slip behind that curtain you’ll find a chair with an easel and a mirror in front of it, and we can get started.”

The other man hesitates, and Jeongguk clasps his hands behind his back in an effort to keep from openly fidgeting. 

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes,” Jimin softly confirms. “Did you want me to help you get to your chair?”

It really isn't necessary but Jeongguk considers it. 

“I was just gonna wait here until you gave me the all-clear, but if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not. Here,”

He nearly startles when he feels a small, warm hand encircle his wrist, pulling him tentatively, and he follows, careful of his steps, worried he’s going to trip and faceplant on the uneven, creaky wooden floor. 

“Almost there,” Jimin whispers reassuringly, and Jeongguk’s lips twitch in a grateful smile. 

The pull stops, but Jimin’s hand remains a moment longer. 

“We’re here. Did you want to sit?”

“I’ll wait,” he decides, wishing to avoid possibly embarrassing himself further. “If you would, let me know when you’re safely behind the curtain.”

Jimin releases him and he feels the floor shift again, loud in some spots, quiet in others, soft steps trekking across the room. Then there’s the subtle shift of fabric as he imagines him pulling aside blue velvet, the material falling back into place once released. The sound of his old chair groans next, and Jimin’s voice follows, ringing out in the space.

“I’m behind the curtain.”

Jeongguk lets go of a relieved breath, blinking rapidly after he pulls the blindfold free. His eyes take a moment to adjust, and Jeongguk grabs the worn, stained apron from the back of his chair and throws it on, glancing down and positioning himself so he can lower onto his stool. He then grabs the discolored pouch from the side table, unzipping it, and folding it open for easy access. 

“I’m going to be asking you a lot of questions. Try to answer to the best of your ability, but if I need further clarification, I’ll guide you through it as much as I can.”

“Sounds reasonable. Is that what the mirror is for?”

“You'd be surprised, but sometimes we forget what we look like,” he grins, scooting his stool closer. “I’m going to ask you for a lot of description and detail. The mirror will make it easier for you.”

Jeongguk sharpens his pencil, frowning at the smudges that already stain the tips of his fingers, and uncaps the jar of charcoal powder he uses, getting his palette knife ready.

“All set?”

“All set,” Jimin echoes back, though he sounds anxious.

"Okay, first question. How do you see yourself?"

"...What do you mean?"

"Are you confident? Do you walk with your head held high, or do you stare at the ground? Are you shy? Do you try to blend in, or do you want to leave an impression? Do you feel insecure, or handsome? Pretty? Sexy? Desirable?"

He knows he's asking a lot, Jimin's side remaining quiet as he seems to process each inquiry fired at him. 

“I…I don’t really know,” he admits, and Jeonguk wonders if he’s just being modest. When he looks into a mirror, he knows what he looks like. Knows that by some standard of beauty he’s pleasing to the eyes. It’s just not so easy to admit out loud. They’ve all been conditioned to have a sense of shame, after all. Humility.

“This is awkward.”

“I know, right?” he agrees, giddy and probably coming off as crass with how unconcerned he sounds. “Well how about now? How do you feel about yourself now, in this moment?”

“Awkward,” Jimin repeats, and Jeongguk can’t help but giggle. 

“Do you think you look nice?” he presses. “Are you having a good hair day? Feel good? Do you like your outfit?”

“My hair is nice,” Jimin concedes. “Straight, but not flat. Kind of fluffy. And my outfit is okay, too.” 

“When you look at yourself, what do you think?”

“I think I’m attractive,” he finally admits, though begrudgingly, and he seems hesitant to go further.

“And when others look at you, what do you think they see?”

Jimin pauses.

“Depends on who’s looking, I suppose.”

Jeongguk’s teeth bite into his lips.

“Fair enough. What’s your favorite facial feature?”

“My eyes,” Jimin answers immediately.

“What do you like about them?”

“They're expressive. And they show my emotions, even when I try to hide them.”

“Your eyes can’t lie,” Jeongguk says with a soft smile, and Jimin hums in agreement. 

“And I think they’re pretty,” he admits, pulling another smile from him. 

“What would you say is your most prominent feature? The one everyone notices first.”

“My lips,” he answers right away again.

“And what does everyone notice about your lips?”

“They’re big. People like big lips.”

Jeongguk likes big lips...

"Do you have a pose or expression in mind for this piece?" he asks, quickly moving on.

"...Not really," Jimin answers, sounding contrite.

"That's okay. We can start easy," he assures, eyeing the stark white of his paper. "Just do whatever makes you comfortable. If that means having a passive or resting expression, it's totally fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay, then I have a resting expression."

"Good, and your pose?"

"I'm um...leaning forward in the chair a bit."

"Are you slouched?"

"Kind of. I can sit up—"

"No, no. Whatever you're doing is perfect. Are you curled in on yourself?" Jeongguk asks, adjusting his grip on the pencil.

"Kind of."

He's uncomfortable, unsure, most likely, that much is obvious. 

"Where are your hands?"

"In my lap."

"Together, or seperated?"

"Together. They're, um...I'm pulling at the rings on my left hand with my right."

Definitely uncomfortable. Most likely from nerves.

"Where are your rings?"

There's another pause. 

"One on each index finger, and ring finger, but on my left hand there's also one on my middle finger."

Jeongguk files the info away.

This isn't really the important part. He's just trying to loosen Jimin up, get him talking in order to give him an idea of what he's looking for, the details he needs, so he becomes accustomed to finding the answers on his own. 

"Any other jewelry?"

"I'm also wearing a necklace, and earrings."

"Tell me about them."

"My necklace is a long, thin silver chain, which rests just a little bit above my heart. It's got a moon at the end."

"A crescent moon?" he guesses, reaching for his cup of water. He usually doesn't talk this much.

"Yeah, it's a crescent."

Jeongguk nods even though the gesture can't be seen. 

"And your earrings?"

"The first set are small silver hoops. The next set going up my ear are plain round balls. Also silver."

Jeongguk hums, moving on.

"Tell me about your legs. Your feet."

It gets quiet again, Jeongguk waiting patiently.

"Uhh…"

"Your thighs, are they together, or spread apart?"

"They're together up to my knees, but um, my feet are planted somewhat apart, and are turned inwards."

Jeongguk hums again, his lips twitching with his next question.

"What are you wearing?"

The fact that it sounds like a line amuses him.

Jeongguk swears he hears a subtle noise from behind the curtain, and maybe Jimin appraises himself in the mirror he offered, wondering how to describe his outfit.

"Denim jacket over a white shirt and Jeans."

"Dark denim, or light?"

It's inconsequential. He's drawing with charcoal, after all, but he wants Jimin to get used to offering up more descriptors to make it easier for him.

"Light," he answers. "Faded a bit."

"Does it have a collar?"

"Yeah, and two breast pockets."

"And your jeans? Are they tight? Loose?"

"They're kind of tight, but the cuffs are loose. Rolled up at the ankle."

"What shape would you say your head is?" 

The subject change to his features brings silence. 

Jimin probably contemplates the question as he gazes at himself.

"Oval?"

"Is your head tilted in any particular direction, or no?"

"Tilted. Towards my right side."

Jeongguk's hand moves to the paper and finally starts to sketch.

“And,” he draws out as he completes the shape, “would you say you have small ears, long ears…?”

“Small.”

“Are they close to your skull, or do they stick out a bit?”

“They’re close to my skull.”

Jeongguk hums again, charcoal scratching against paper. He keeps the shape to simple lines, knowing he’ll come back to fill in the detail, but he does add two small hoops as well as rounded dots for earrings. 

“Can you describe your hairline?”

It’s quiet again, the only sound is the coal as he goes over a few lines. 

“From my ear it goes up, curving in towards my brows before curving up and out, sort of straight across my temple in a line, except I have a slight widow's peak.”

Jeongguk follows his words like one would directions on a map, the shape that he’s drawing coming together. 

“Tell me about your forehead. If you measured it in centimeters, how big would you say it is?”

“From my hairline to the start of my nose…maybe four centimeters?”

“And where do your eyes fall?”

“They’re pretty level with the tops of my ears.”

Jeongguk marks a line on the paper to determine where he’ll draw those in. 

“Tell me about them.”

"They’re…big. The width, I mean. They’re long, if that makes sense.”

“Close together?”

“No, there’s substantial space between them without being too far apart, I suppose.”

Jeongguk’s lips turn up in another smile as he works.

“Monolids, or double eyelids?”

“Monolids. My lids in general are big. There’s a lot of skin there. I do have a scar, though.”

“Describe it to me.”

There’s a shifting sound, as if Jimin shrugged or is adjusting his position. 

“It’s not too noticeable, just a line that runs across the edge of my lid and goes out towards the end of my brow on my right eye.”

Jeongguk draws it in. 

“And your iris?”

“Dark,” Jimin answers. “Big. Takes up a lot of space.”

Jeongguk outlines everything, saving the finer details for later.

“How are your brows shaped? Thick? Thin? Bushy?”

“They’re thick, but neat. Pretty straight until they get to the edge of my brow bone and then curve down.”

“What about your nose?”

“It’s small,” Jimin offers, and Jeongguk wonders if he isn’t fond of that particular feature.

“Like a button nose?”

“I suppose. I wear glasses sometimes, and unless I have them fitted they fall off easily.”

“Is the bottom of your nose rounded, or sharp?”

“Rounded. Kind of flat.”

“Flat?” Jeongguk clarifies, and there’s that rustling sound again. 

“I don’t know how to describe it. The bridge is thin, the bottom is bigger in comparison. Flares out. Does that make sense?”

"You want the truth?"

Jimin snorts into an amused laugh that has him smiling along, growing enough to make his cheeks ache when he hears Jimin mumble on the other side of the curtain.

"I'm so bad at this."

"It'll get easier," he soothes, even though he doesn't know if it will.

"Do you still wanna talk about my nose?"

"Nah, I got it," he assures, and lets it go. These portraits are based off of Jimin’s description after all, and he’s already holding his hand probably far too much, but justifies it because it’s their first attempt.

“Tell me about your cheekbones, and your jawline.”

“My cheekbones are high, pronounced, but my cheeks can get round. Swollen, even. Depends on what I eat or if I’ve just woken up or not…and my jaw is pretty sharp, angular, but my chin is more curved instead of a fine point.”

Jeongguk is quiet, focusing all of his attention on adding each detail as Jimin tells it to him, frustrated when the hair he pinned in place earlier slips free to hang over his eyes, and he blows it out of the way impatiently, attempting to slide it behind his ear with the back of a hand. 

“Tell me more about your lips.”

“They’re big, like I said.”

“Is your top lip smaller than the bottom?”

“They’re almost…the same size.”

“And are they shaped like a heart? A bow?”

“They’re full. Rounded, I guess, depending on my expression.”

“Do they look rounded now?”

“Yes. Sometimes they resemble a bow…or a heart, too.”

That doesn’t really narrow it down.

“In the expression you chose, are your lips parted?”

“No, they’re closed. They look like a bow,” he decides. “A rounded bow.”

Jeongguk blows the hair out of his eyes again, and draws his interpretation of a ‘rounded bow.’

“How would you describe your skin?”

“Fair. A bit golden. Healthy. I’ve started running, so I’m getting some sun.”

“Any blemishes? Marks? Additional scars?”

“I have freckles that go across both cheeks and the bridge of my nose, but they’re really hard to see sometimes.”

Jeongguk begins to carefully dot the paper. 

“You said your hair is fluffy today. What color is it?”

“Black, just dyed it, so it looks brown in the light sometimes.”

“Is it on the long side? Short?”

“It’s long, parted in the middle, and the ends fall past my ears.”

Jeongguk does sweeping motions with his hand, controlled as he creates the outline of his hair.

“Are there any strands that fall in your face?”

“My bangs on the left side are partially covering my eye.”

Mine too , Jeongguk wants to say, but instead blows them out of the way again as he draws in shaded curving lines falling over the left side of his sketch’s face.

“Any facial hair?”

Jeongguk hears a giggle.

“No.”

“And your neck?”

The giggles continue.

“My neck?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk affirms, a small smile in his own voice as well. “Is it thick? Slim—"

“Slim,” Jimin cuts off with a laugh. “I’m pretty lean in general.”

“Oh good, I’ve been wondering if it would be rude to ask.”

Jimin releases another laugh and Jeongguk feels his cheeks ache again with how wide his smile is. 

He adds in more lines, connecting the barebones head to a small, delicate neck adorned with a thin chain with a crescent moon attached.

“You said you were lean, but are you broad? Bulky? Are your shoulders big?”

“I would say I’m compact,” Jimin decides, and it’s Jeongguk’s turn to laugh. 

“What does that mean?”

“Small but defined,” Jimin explains, and Jeongguk hums in amusement. 

Jimin informed him earlier that he was slouching, slightly curled in on himself, so he keeps his frame tight. “Compact,” as Jimin had described. 

He gets a rough idea of the body in it’s position before doing the same for his familiar armchair just behind it, easy in comparison to the rest of the sketch since Jeongguk knows what it looks like. He goes back in, adding shape and definition to the hands, furled and tense as they grip the rings he outlines on the designated fingers.

With the outline done, Jeongguk turns to his charcoal powder, setting aside his pencil in favor of his palette knife, the one on the smaller side with a finer point. 

“I’ve finished the linework,” he updates, Jimin likely bored after he cut off the flow of questions in order to pour his entire focus into the sketch. “From here I’ll be shading in the details. I’ll probably ask for more descriptions periodically.”

“Okay.”

“Do you need anything? The bathroom, to stretch?”

“No, I'm fine.”

“Let me know.”

He dips his palette knife in the powder, making sure it’s well-coated, and then decides to pose a question that is unimportant to his task, but one that’ll keep Jimin talking, and maybe chase away the monotony he’s most likely feeling. 

“How do you know Taehyung?”

Jimin’s tone of voice is clearly endeared when he answers, and Jeongguk wonders if he looks just as fond as sounds while he remineces.

“He came to the Geomdo club maybe about two years ago now, asking if he could take some pictures for an art project. Our sabeomnim told him to leave,” he chuckles, laughter making his voice lilt when he continues. “I felt bad for him. Offered to pose for his pictures as soon as I was done.”

Jeongguk smiles, listening more than he anticipated, his focus on his art somewhat split. A rare occurrence. 

“What about you? How did you two meet?” Jimin wonders, and Jeongguk squints his eyes as he works on the shadow his sketch’s hair casts over its face.

“Art.” He answers simply. “He’s a photography major with a minor in art. We have similar schedules.”

Jimin hums in understanding and Jeongguk redips his palette knife. 

“How long have you been involved in Geomdo?”

“Eight years.”

“That’s really impressive, Jimin-ssi. I hear it’s not easy.”

Jimin makes a sound, high-pitched, kind of breathy. He either doesn’t know what to do with praise, embarrassed and uncomfortable- 

Or he likes it.

Jeongguk wonders which it is, intrigued even more when Jimin makes no effort to respond, so he presses. 

Just a bit.

“Maybe one of these times you can pose with your geom.”

He waits for an answer, Jimin providing one a moment later, voice soft.

“I’d need breaks,” he warns. “It can get tiresome really fast.”

“I don’t mind,” Jeongguk quickly reassures, suddenly enamored with the idea, visions swimming in his head of possible art pieces, Jimin dressed in a Dobok or a Bogu, while he holds a Haedong stance…

It would be stunning.

“Did you want me to bring it next time?”

“Oh no. We can save that one for later, I think,” he answers decisively.

They still have a lot of work to do before they can build up to something of that scale. 

Jeongguk continues to work, periodically asking questions.

“Would you say that your lashes are long?” he wonders, staring at the eyes of his drawing.

“They are, but it’s kind of hard to tell if you’re staring directly at me.”

“And what about circles?” he wonders, cutting in sloping lines for eyelashes. “Any dark circles under your eyes? Aegyo sal?”

“Both,” Jimin admits, so Jeongguk takes the edge of his knife, and sweeps his hand under both eyes, shading them in. 

It falls quiet as he works, and Jeongguk feels a niggling guilt in the back of his mind after he loses himself in his task, adding shadows to emphasize his point of light, enriching the details in order for the sketch to become a more realistic piece. 

Jeongguk wipes at his face, forcing his hair behind his ear as he climbs onto his stool, perching on top of it while he appraises his work so far. 

“I should’ve told you to bring your classwork or something. This is probably boring for you.”

“I’m reading, actually,” Jimin admits, and Jeongguk lets out an amused breath.

“I thought I heard pages.”

He adds a few things to his drawing, darkens some shadows, sharpens some lines. The denim takes time, his imagination adding where the fabric wrinkles and folds in on itself due to the pose, getting lost in it.

"Socks or no?" he calls. 

"Socks," Jimin answers, sounding more at ease than he has thus far. "White. They end at my ankle."

He concentrates, using shadows to bring out the brightness of the "material," subtly shading in the shapes of his toes.

It’s complete, for the most part, though Jeongguk knows the perfectionist in him will keep working at it, but Jimin no longer needs to stay. 

It’s dark when he looks out the window, light refracting off of the drops of water that coat the glass.

“It’s raining again,” he murmurs to himself, staring at the clock on the wall. 

A little after seven. He finished faster than he thought he would.

“I’m done,” he calls, scraping off the excess powder on his knife back into the jar before wiping it with a worn rag. 

“Already?” Jimin wonders, and Jeongguk feels bad. After all, the longer he sits, the more he gets paid. 

He retrieves the envelope he prepared earlier, taking no money out, despite the fact that Jimin is leaving early. 

“It’s charcoal,” he answers with a shrug that can’t be seen. “Next time we’ll be working with colors, and that’ll take longer since I’ll need more details.”

“That makes sense,” Jimin answers kindly, and Jeongguk listens to the sounds of him packing up, his old chair groaning as he stands.

“Ready?” Jeongguk asks, his blindfold in hand.

“Ready.”

He fits the soft black material over his head, adjusting it till he can’t see, envelope held out, already smudged with coal. 

“You can come out from behind the curtain now.”

The sound of velvet being displaced once again reaches his ears, and for an unknown reason, Jeongguk’s heart speeds up as he hears footsteps coming towards him, his lack of vision putting his body on high-alert.

“This is for you,” he says, shaking the envelope and jumping when his hand brushes against something soft.

“Sorry, I’m right here,” Jimin tells him, and he almost swears he hears the smile in his voice. “Should’ve warned you.”

“I included cab fare,” he lies when Jimin takes it, fingers sliding against his own, causing a tremor to run through his hand. “Don’t want you walking in this,” he declares, just as the rain picks up.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Jeongguk corrects, waving away his concern. 

“Is it okay if I look?” Jimin asks, and Jeongguk can’t stop himself from smiling. 

“At the money or the picture.”

Jimin giggles. 

“The picture.”

“I can’t stop you.”

“But I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

Jeongguk's lips tilt into a soft smile, a kind of pleased warmth burning in his tummy.

“I want you to.”

He both hears and feels when Jimin steps away, a new silence taking over as he most likely appraises his work, Jeongguk left to stand there in his self-imposed darkness.

“What do you think?”

“It’s good. Amazing, actually. You’re very talented.’

“Thank you,” he preens, feeling the way his cheeks flush. “Does it look like you?”

“Not at all, no.”

A loud laugh explodes from Jeongguk, catching him by surprise, but he feels kind of elated when he hears Jimin giggle along with him. 

“I’ll try to describe myself better next time,” Jimin assures, taking the blame, amusement still heavy in his voice. 

“At least we won’t be working with charcoal again until I have to recreate this,” he grumbles, fingers rubbing together at the heavy feeling of the powder staining his skin, bringing a frown over his mostly covered expression.

“You don’t sound like a fan,” Jimin notes, and Jeongguk adamantly shakes his head.

“I hate it. It gets everywhere.”

“I noticed,” Jimin giggles. “It’s all over your face.”

Jeongguk gives a weary sigh, barely remembering to stop his hands from feeling over his skin in search of it, which would undoubtedly result in covering his skin in even more powder. 

He was so careful, too.

“You’ll be free tomorrow? Same time?”

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jeongguk-ssi.”

He almost makes the same joke again about how he won’t see Jimin, but recycling old material isn’t funny.

“Tomorrow,” he says instead, feeling the air move again as Jimin slips past him. 

“I’ll let myself out.”

“Probably for the best. Could take me ages to find the door.”

Jimin hums in amusement, and Jeongguk hears the door open but not close.

“Goodnight, Jeongguk-ssi.”

“Goodnight, Jimin-ssi.”

And as the door closes and he’s able to remove his blindfold, he is once more in agreement.

It is a good night.

Chapter 2: Watercolor

Summary:

“Are you comfortable?”

 

“I am right now.”

 

“And how do you feel today?”

 

“A lot better than yesterday,” Jimin admits easily. “I feel more sure of myself.”

 

“I’m glad. And how do you see yourself?”

 

“Today, I’m calm. Comfortable in my own skin.”

 

His smile softens, Jeongguk’s voice reflecting that in its tone. 

 

“What are you wearing, Jimin-ssi?” 

Notes:

Another update, another medium.

It’s early the next morning when Jeongguk wakes, a text already waiting for him on his phone from Jimin.

There was more than just cab fare in that envelope you gave me. 

Jeongguk’s lips crack a smile that quickly turns into a grimace, the sun peeking in from his many uncovered windows, assaulting his vision.

Sometimes he really regrets not buying those damn curtains.

Jeongguk groans, running a hand through his disheveled hair before blinking some clarity in his eyes, sluggishly typing out an answer. 

Was there?

Jimin’s response is immediate. 

There was. You know there was.

Cab fare is expensive these days.  

Not that expensive. I didn’t sit for that long, Jeongguk-ssi.

Jeongguk hums, rolling onto his back and holding his phone above him as he types.

Consider it a bonus. 

A bonus for what?

Like a starting bonus. A bonus for starting . 

That's a thing, right?

Jimin sends back one of those emojis that does not look pleased, and instead of hearing about it further, Jeongguk changes the subject. 

Will you still be available tonight?

I will.

Simple. To the point. Is that a good sign or a bad one? 

And the same time is okay?

It is. I’ll be there.

Tone in text is so hard to distinguish. But it feels abrupt. 

Impersonal.

Jeongguk’s brow furrows. He hates being unsure of something and second guessing himself...

His phone vibrates in his hand, regaining his attention.

Can I ask what we’re working on tonight?

That has to be a good sign. Asking for more details invites further conversation. Someone who’s angry wouldn’t be inviting in any form.

Tonight I’m doing watercolor, and the pose should be more elaborate. Start brainstorming if there’s something you wanna do, an expression you want me to try and capture. If not, I’ll decide later.

A moment goes by without any further messages, and Jeongguk is just about to leave the warm comfort of his bed when his phone rumbles again. 

I’ll try to come up with something. 

Jeongguk grins, tossing his phone aside as he finally gains his feet, getting ready for the day. He has two back to back classes, and then an hour and a half break before his final lecture of the day.

Art theory. Fascinating stuff. 

There are two messages on his phone by the time he finishes up with his first two workshops, both from Taehyung and relatively recent. 

Come have coffee with me . 

Reads the first. 

Hellloooooo!

Reads the second, barely sent a minute apart from each other, Taehyung's impatience on display.

I’m busy , Jeongguk answers back, smirking when the older man replies immediately. 

I know you have a free period!

Jeongguk giggles down at the screen, his reflection showing the way his nose scrunches before he types back.

Be there in ten. 

The coffee shop isn’t as busy this time of day, and Jeongguk immediately spots the photography major at a corner table, his tweed jacket and cap giving him away. He goes to the counter and orders first, the same thing he had the day before, and then makes his way to the table. 

Taehyung eyes him with a smug, knowing expression, immediately putting him on edge as he takes a seat. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, but then belies that with his next inquiry. “How’d it go last night?”

“I thought it went well,” Jeongguk tentatively admits with a raised brow, “but maybe you know otherwise.”

Taehyung chuckles, but shrugs. 

"Jimin didn’t say anything bad,” he consoles, stirring his drink with his paper straw. 

“What did he say, then?” he asks, even though he knows he shouldn’t. 

“He just said it was awkward.”

Jeongguk’s shoulders sag slightly, but the older man picks up on it. 

“He was referring to himself, not you,” he assures, knowing how much Jeongguk hates coming off in social situations, but the answer still brings another frown to his features. 

“He wasn’t awkward. He was fine.”

Taehyung shrugs again. 

“It’s a different kind of project.”

“It is,” Jeongguk agrees, a smile gracing his lips, elbows on the table so he can cup his chin in the cradle of his palms. “That’s what makes it fun.”

That gains an amused snort from him, eyes flying towards the counter when Jeongguk’s name is called. He retrieves his americano and comes right back, straw already in his mouth. 

“So, uh. Did he say anything else?” he asks once back in his seat, Taehyung lifting one brow. 

“Like?”

“Is this a guessing game? Thought it was a yes or no question.”

“I’m having trouble remembering.”

“Liar,” Jeongguk mutters. “Did he say anything about the money?”

“No. Why? Did your frugal ass refuse to pay him?”

Jeongguk feels his cheeks heat, the toe of his boot kicking out to connect with Taehyung's shin, grinning when he makes an exaggerated face. 

“I wouldn’t do that. I finished early, but paid him for a full session.”

The older man gapes at him, drink paused halfway to his open mouth. 

“Jeongguk-ah,” he starts, making him sigh. 

He already knows a lecture is coming. 

“That’s really very sweet of you. And I can say that because I know you, and know you had good intentions. But you should be aware that people like Jimin don’t like being given things they didn’t earn, so just keep that in mind when you guys talk again.”

“We’ve already texted.”

“And was he angry?”

He shrugs, staring down at his drink. 

“S’hard to tell over a message.”

“Right, well. Just don’t take it personally, okay. He doesn’t like to feel like he’s being given a handout. Pride, and all that.”

“Pride is stupid.”

“We can’t all be shameless like you.”

Jeongguk beams at him, catching his straw on his bottom lip. 

“I didn’t make him uncomfortable, did I?”

“No, not in the way you’re worried about.”

“So I did, then?”

“No, you didn’t, I promise.”

“But you just said I did.”

“I said not in the way you're worried about."

"In what way, then?"

"You’ll figure it out. It’s nothing bad, I promise. He said you were really nice. Sweet, even, and that you helped him through the process."

Jeongguk’s mouth pulls into a wide smile, cheeks hurting at the secondhand praise. 

“What about you? What’d you think of him?”

“He smells nice,” he blurts out, unembarrassed. “And he has a nice voice. Kind of low and high at the same time. Those were his only attributes I was able to experience.”

Taehyung gives a small, delighted laugh.

“What about his personality? Does it clash with yours or were you able to work together alright?”

“It wasn’t bad,” he answers, sounding almost surprised himself. He’s worked with some truly awful people in the past. “He took direction well, and when he couldn’t come up with the answers I needed he was open to assistance. And he was quiet when I needed him to be. That was nice.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Taehyung replies sincerely, taking another sip of his drink. “Is he meeting you tonight?”

“He is,” Jeongguk affirms, feeling sudden excitement. “We’re working with color this time.”

“What was yesterday’s medium?”

“Charcoal,” Jeongguk mutters around his straw, drawing another laugh from Taehyung. 

“You hate charcoal.”

“I know. It got everywhere, too. Was all over my face by the time Jimin left.”

The older man shakes his head, a fondness further softening his features. 

"So, so far so good?"

"I think so. I really like this project now. Don't wanna ruin it."

“Just remember what I told you and you’ll be fine.”

Jeongguk nods, taking another big pull from his drink, leg bouncing beneath the table while the caffeine zips through him. 

Something like anticipation settles under the surface of his skin that has nothing to do with the americano.

°•🎨🖌•°

As the sun begins to set, the clock inching closer to five, Jeongguk sets up the easel with the mirror on "Jimin's" side of the blue curtain, but leaves the armchair where it is. Tonight he hopes the other man has an idea about a new pose or position, but if not, he has a few of his own at the ready. 

Once again, at exactly five, there’s a knock on the door. Jeongguk rushes to it, a tie pinched between his lips as he wrangles his hair up in a bun and secures it down. 

“Who is it?” he calls, just in case. 

“Park Jimin.”

Jeongguk grins, slides his blindfold on and opens the door. 

“Hello,” he greets with a small smile, that newly familiar feeling of vulnerability taking hold of him. 

“Hi,” Jimin answers, and Jeongguk breathes a sigh of relief. He sounds friendly, which is a good sign. 

“Come in,” Jeongguk ushers, stepping aside and managing to avoid running into the door this time. He hears the sounds of Jimin removing his shoes, sock-clad feet stepping up onto the groaning hardwood and moving further in. 

Jeongguk closes the door and turns back around, ignoring the urge to fidget and pull at his own fingers. 

“I like your shirt,” Jimin admits, and it’s just like deja vu, a repeat of the previous night. Only this time, Jeongguk came prepared and purposefully looked at his shirt to remind himself what was on it before Jimin arrived. 

Just in case.

It’s an off-white color showcasing a stencil of a Grecian head, with a quote on top, and a name on the bottom. 

“Ehh, good enough” - Mediocrates

“Thank you,” he smiles, staring down at his shirt even though he can’t see it. “Made me laugh.”

“It’s funny,” Jimin agrees, and Jeongguk nods, the air feeling strained. 

“Do you…did you think of a pose?”

“I did,” Jimin assures, exciting Jeongguk further.

“Perfect. If you wanna go behind the curtain, we’ll get started.”

Jimin goes, and Jeongguk frowns slightly that he didn’t ask if he could help guide him to his chair this time, so he just stands there, fingers tangled in the hem of his funny shirt as he listens to the sounds of the curtain being lifted and falling back into place. 

“All clear,” Jimin calls, and Jeongguk exhales as he removes the blindfold, unable to stop from looking behind him, taking in the sight of worn trainers lined neatly next to his own black boots. 

His feet are smaller.

Jeongguk looks away, walking to the station that he set up earlier, the easel adorned with a different kind of paper from yesterday’s, though it's just as thick, needing to be able to retain water. He’s got two glasses on his side table, one made for drinking, the other for cleaning brushes, and absently he hopes he doesn’t mix the two up. 

It might’ve happened before. 

Jeongguk has already opened a couple of paint palettes, his brushes laid out for him like a surgeon’s tools, and he dons his stained apron before taking his seat on his stool, listening to the sounds of movement on the other side. Jimin is likely making adjustments as he situates the mirror wherever he's decided to place himself.

Then it gets quiet. 

“Are you in the position you want me to paint you in?”

“I am.”

Jeongguk grins, grabbing a soft lead pencil in hand, ready to sketch. 

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the window near the end of your bed.”

His heart picks up, an image flashing in his mind. 

“Sitting? Standing?”

“I’m sitting on the window seat, looking out.”

A thrill fills him, already knowing what he wants to do, how he wants this piece to look, and he’s glad that Taehyung talked him into going through with the project, his creativity being fed. 

“Is your entire body positioned directly in front of the window, or are you leaning into it?”

“My back is against the inner wall, my head tilted towards the glass.”

“Where are your feet?”

“They’re on the sill, my knees pulled up to my chest.”

“And your hands?”

“My left hand is holding my right calf, my arm wrapped around both legs. My right arm is reaching across my body, my hand pressed up against the window.”

Jeongguk hums, pleased with what he can envision of the pose. 

“The hand on the window, fingers spread or together?”

“Spread.”

“And your expression?”

“Sad,” Jimin answers simply before taking a deep breath. “Lost. Longing.”

“Are you comfortable?”

“I am right now.”

“And how do you feel today?”

“A lot better than yesterday,” Jimin admits easily. “I feel more sure of myself.”

“I’m glad. And how do you see yourself?”

“Today, I’m calm. Comfortable in my own skin.”

His smile softens, Jeongguk’s voice reflecting that in its tone. 

“What are you wearing, Jimin-ssi?” 

“Green,” he answers, and Jeongguk feels a shiver run through him as he eyes his palette, zeroing in on several shades of the color. “Emerald might be a better description. A deep emerald green. It’s a button-down shirt, the sleeves long and loose, it’s got a sheen to it, too. My pants are black, fitted, and my feet are bare this time, and crossed at the ankle.”

Jeongguk begins to draw the shape of him, using only the lightest strokes of his pencil. 

“Is the mirror where you can see it?”

“It’s right in front of me, leaning up against the opposite wall.”

“Last time, you said the sketch didn’t look like you. What can I do to change that?”

He hears Jimin hum in thought and waits patiently. 

“I would say my head is smaller and my eyes slope slightly more downwards towards the end than what you drew. And they’re a little bit bigger. My lips, too.”

“Your lips are bigger?” Jeongguk asks, attempting to clarify. 

“Yes. A lot fuller than what you had.”

Jeongguk’s hand comes up to clutch the material of his apron over his heart, eyes tightly shut, but he shakes his head and forces himself to stop messing around. 

“Anything else?” 

“My nose is more rounded at the bottom, and my fingers are smaller.”

“Noted,” he grins, continuing to draw. “Tell me about your features in the expression.”

“My lids are lowered to slits” he starts off tentatively, clearly trying to find the right words. “My eyes aren’t as bright, and I can just barely see my iris. My mouth is downturned, lips slightly parted but not enough to see my teeth. My lower one juts out, like I’m pouting. I look…heavy,” he mutters. “Weighed down. Tired.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Tired?”

“Yes,” he admits with a chuckle. “I’m a uni student, I’m always tired. There’s purple rings underneath my eyes.”

“Any jewelry today?”

“One ring on the middle finger of my left hand, and two on my right. They’re on my index and ring finger. I’ve also got on the crescent moon necklace again. Only last time you drew it in relation to a circle, but mine is more open, like an oval.”

“Earrings?”

“Only one pair today. They’re drop earrings. Silver cross pendants.”

Jeongguk draws, tongue sneaking out from between his lips, eyes narrowed in concentration. He sticks the end of his pencil in his mouth every now and then, chewing on it as he appraises his work critically, before continuing on. The linework isn't supposed to be extensive or detailed, but Jeongguk has always battled with that, knowing when to quit. He sketches for longer than he should, finally shoving the pencil back behind his ear when he deems it to his standard.

“I’m done drawing it out,” he calls, dipping a brush in the water of one glass and taking a sip from the other. “Are you ready to start with the actual painting or do you need a break?”

“I’m ready.”

Jeongguk sets his glass down, removing the brush from the other as he stares at the sketch. 

“It’s getting dark. What does your skin look like in the lighting?”

“I turned some lights off,” Jimin reveals, and Jeongguk is intrigued. “I’m more in shadow, now. My skin looks blue. I think it’s going to rain again.” 

Jeongguk glances out the window to his left, and takes in the angry, blue-gray clouds rolling in before turning back to his work. He picks up a palette, settling on a muted blue color and diluting it further with water.

“Is there a part of your face that’s more in shadow than the rest?”

It’s quiet for a moment. 

“The right side of my face. There’s a diagonal line that starts from my temple and shrouds half of my features.”

Jeongguk hums and finally sets his brush to paper. 

Watercolor isn’t his favorite medium, but it is soothing, almost repetitive, and he’s always liked trying different ways and methods to get the color he wants to translate better—

“The glass is cold,” Jimin giggles, and Jeongguk’s concentration flies out the window, paintbrush pressed to the paper. He hastily removes it when he remembers himself, not wanting to ruin the integrity of it. 

“You can remove your hand until I get there,” Jeongguk offers, straining his ears when Jimin gives a relieved sigh, the sound of soft puffs of breath reaching him, and he imagines Jimin puckering lips he’s never seen before so he can blow on the angry red skin, attempting to instill warmth. 

He physically shakes himself, going back to filling in half of the sketch’s face with shadow, and as such, establishing his point of light. He dips his brush in the water—the correct one—and goes for a lighter shade of powder blue, continuing to fill in the face. 

“Charcoal and watercolor,” Jimin comments, once more pulling at Jeongguk’s attention. “I already know you don’t like charcoal, but is there one you do prefer?”

Jeongguk smirks despite his hair, which predictably falls into his eyes after escaping it’s tie. 

“Oil based paint,” he answers without hesitation. “I love working with paint in general, but oil is my favorite.” 

He slowly follows the curve of the sketch’s cheek when Jimin poses another question. 

“What do you love about it?”

Jeongguk is surprised to find that; for once, he isn’t irritated or put off by the attempt at conversation when he’s trying to work.

It's kind of flattering that Jimin is taking an interest.

“It’s malleable. Wet. Doesn’t dry as fast as acrylic does. I like handling it, the challenge that comes with working with it.”

He dips his brush in a soft grey color next, pausing as he waits for the conversation to continue, something like anticipation filling him. 

Jimin doesn’t disappoint.

“You’re very talented working with so many different art forms. And you’re quite good.”

Jeongguk’s cheeks flush. 

“How do you know?” he asks coyly, paintbrush hanging in the air as he waits for an answer. 

“You have artwork hanging all over your walls,” Jimin answers, clear amusement in his tone. "I just assumed it was yours.”

“Oh right,” Jeongguk frowns, slightly embarrassed. “No, it’s mine.”

“I like them.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly, going back to his task. “Does your hair look blue?”

Jimin chuckles at the subject change, and Jeongguk imagines him turning to look in the mirror for a reference.:

”Only in streaks, where the light hits it.”

Jeongguk dips his brush in the water before coating the drenched bristles in a darker shade. 

Prussian Blue, it’s called. 

With that, he designates sections of hair where the light would hit. 

“What do you study, Jimin-ssi?” he calls, eyes squinting as he checks his work.

There’s a drawn-out breath that reaches his ears from the other side of the curtain. 

“I study law.”

“Woah,” Jeongguk exclaims, looking down at his stained apron and suddenly feeling inadequate for some strange reason. 

Art and law are…vastly different. Unless it’s the art of law , though that is something else entirely. 

“Yeah. It’s a lot.”

“Did you want to go into law or is it like...a forced family thing, like in those dramas?” he asks as he cleans his brush, lips curling up in another smile when he hears Jimin let out a surprised laugh. 

“I chose law, though it made my family happy. Nothing forced, though. Not following in my father’s footsteps or anything. He would’ve been just as happy if I was a doctor, or in politics.”

“Why law?”

“It’s a good profession. Respectable. Pays well. And it might sound cliche, but I really want to help people.”

“I don’t think that’s cliche,” he murmurs, dipping his brush in black. He’ll use the bigger round brush to fill in the rest of Jimin’s hair before switching over to a smaller line brush to work on the individual strands that hang over his face. 

“What about you? How did you get into art?”

“Originally? It stemmed from a lack of focus,” he admits, beginning to fill in the blank area of the paper in the confines of his lines, cleaning off his round brush once he's finished before setting it aside for the smaller one with fine bristles that come to a point. “Especially in school. I just had no interest. So instead of listening when I was supposed to, I would doodle and draw.”

He dips his new brush in the same black color and takes a moment to decide where his placement will be.

“It also didn’t help that my brother and I only had one gaming console to share between us, so whoever got to it first, it left the other to find different ways to keep ourselves entertained. I chose art,” he shrugs, sweeping his hand over his drawing’s face to create the strands.

“I’ve always admired people who create art, whatever it may be.”

“You’re creating art right now,” he tells him, finishing with the bangs and leaning back, inspecting the piece as a whole. He only realizes it’s been quiet for too long after a few moments have gone by, and he has the irrational feeling that something has happened.

“Jimin-ssi?”

Another indrawn breath, a shuddery exhale.

“I’m here, Jeongguk,” he answers quietly, and interestingly enough, the hairs on his arms stand up from lack of honorifics.

He gives him time to himself, wondering if maybe he said something off-putting or wrong, and spends it quietly filling in the rest of the sketch’s hair. 

He’s just finishing darkening the color when Jimin speaks up again, drawing his attention away.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to talk so informally.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assures, physically waving away his concern even though he can’t be seen. “We never mentioned our age. I’m a ninety-seven liner.”

“Ninety-five,” Jimin answers, and he sounds noticeably less upset. 

“Ah, so that makes you the hyung.” he grins, moving on to defining the top lashes of the eyes, curving them out before moving onto the lower set. 

“Shall I call you Jeongguk-ah then?”

“Only if you want to,” he answers, leaning in closer to take care with the details. “I’m a bit forgetful when it comes to formalities, in all honesty. I hope that won’t offend you.”

Jimin gives a small; albeit, delighted laugh before setting him at ease. 

“Promise I won’t get offended.”

“Your understanding is appreciated.” 

Jimin giggles again, and Jeongguk finds himself wondering if he’s the type to throw his head back when he laughs, or does it fall forward. 

The eyes come next, the dark, barely-there shape of the iris peeking through garnering his attention, choosing one of the smallest brushes he has for it. Jeongguk mixes a bit of blue in the color as well, acting as his light, concentrating until he's finished.

“How would you say your lips look right now?”

“There’s light on them,” Jimin answers. “Moreso the top one than the bottom…peach,” he decides, “while the bottom one looks almost…mauve.”

Jeongguk looks at his palette, singling out ‘Ballerina Pink’ and ‘Carmine’ as his colors. He makes sure to leave a couple of spots on the top lip blank to create the illusion of highlight, and picks a darker color to do the same for the bottom, only in this case, he’s emphasizing shadow. 

He loses himself in easy paint strokes, filling in the outline as carefully as possible, adding more color to his brush when needed.

“Your hand on the window, tell me about it.”

He hears Jimin hiss as he redips his paintbrush, likely from putting it back on the cold glass. 

“It’s mostly in shadow, a dull grey color.”

Jeongguk hums, imagining that all of the light is focused on his palm, brought on by the streetlamps that line the road outside, along with the numerous neon signs that have already come to life.

Jeongguk sets to work on the hands, allowing some features to look blurrier than others due to the perspective of the painting. 

“Your feet are bare. Are they in the light or in shadow?”

“Shadow. Same color as my hand, I think.” 

He takes a drink of his water and redips his brush in paint, tracing the linework of Jimin’s ankles and feet. The toes take a while, Jeongguk leaning far forward in his chair to make sure he covers every curve without missing a spot.

From there, the jewelry doesn't take much time, and then Jeongguk eyes what he wants to do next, spotting a color labeled 'Viridian Phthalo' that produces a pretty shade when put to paper, deciding he'll use that for the shirt.

He redips his brush in the water, ready to work on filling that expanse of blank space when he realizes what he’s done and groans. 

“What’s wrong?” Jimin calls, and Jeongguk shakes his head at himself.

“Nothing. Just accidentally dipped my paintbrush in my drinking water.”

Jimin gives a regretful hum as Jeongguk sighs to himself. 

“At least I didn’t drink it this time.”

“This time!” Jimin exclaims, clear amusement beneath the shock. 

“This may come as a surprise to you, but sometimes artists can be terribly unobservant.”

“And drink their own paint water, apparently.”

“Hush you,” he grumbles, moving behind him to the modest kitchen in order to dump the water out, wash the glass and get a clean one to fill with new water. "You can't ever mention it."

"Says who?"

“Doesn’t your profession have like, a confidentiality clause, or something?”

“I’m not technically a lawyer yet, and you’re not my client, so.”

“Spoken like a true lawyer,” he scoffs, retaking his seat. “Do you need a break?”

“I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs.”

“Go ahead, I’m gonna be working on your shirt, and after that I'll start on the pants. If I have any questions I'll let you know.”

Jeongguk refocuses, hearing the occasional creaky floorboard as Jimin walks around behind the curtain. 

“Is everything you’ve hung up on the walls your art?”

“Mmmhmm,” he hums, gathering more paint. “I get greedy sometimes and don’t want to sell them.”

“I wouldn’t want to either,” Jimin admits. “They’re beautiful.”

Jeongguk already knows that, to a certain extent. But there is something about hearing it from someone who is standing before one of your pieces, taking it in and praising it with the utmost sincerity in their voice; the only part of him that Jeongguk can discern. 

It’s a big compliment.

“Thank you, Jimin-ssi — hyung. Thank you, hyung. That's nice of you to say."

The quiet resumes as time slips by, Jeongguk periodically going for more color or water, in turns, filling in the shirt meticulously.

He's cleaning his brush when Jimin asks him a tentative question.

"Is it okay if I sit somewhere besides the window? My back is starting to hurt," he admits, sounding embarrassed.

“Of course, sit wherever you want. I'm just finishing up the pants now, but it shouldn't be too much longer.”

Jeongguk gets lost in it, adding detail where he thinks it needs it and creating a more involved background than he did for his first piece. He can hear pages turn periodically on Jimin’s side, and sometimes he thinks he detects the muted sound of music. Something classical, maybe. 

He doesn’t really need anything more from Jimin. He’ll continue to finish up in his own time once it dries a bit, but the law student can go home. 

Glancing at the clock he’s surprised to see that it’s nearing nine, pitch black when he glances out the window. 

“I’ve pretty much finished with everything I need from you tonight. It’s getting late, anyways.”

He listens to the sounds of Jimin packing up, his old chair groaning, the floor creaking. 

“I’m ready.”

Jeongguk quickly stands, sliding on his blindfold and pulling the envelope of money from the front pocket of his apron. 

“You can come out, now.”

There's the rustle of the curtain, footsteps coming closer.

Jeongguk holds the envelope out, and fumbles his way through an apology.

“There’s the correct amount this time, plus cab fare, but not like, excessive . I didn’t mean to offend you last time. Promise.”

Fingers brush his own, featherlight and soft as it’s accepted. 

“Thank you, Jeongguk-ah. That’s really sweet of you, and I accept your apology.”

“You can count it if you want,” he offers, smiling when he hears Jimin chortle. 

“It’s okay, I believe you.”

“Did you want to look at the painting?”

“May I?” 

“Of course.”

He hears Jimin turn and approach the easel, another stretch of silence filling the room as Jeongguk stands there, waiting for input and trying not to appear fidgety and unsure. 

“You painted it from outside the window looking in.”

Jeongguk nods, unsure if Jimin is even looking at him to see it. 

“Might be tricky when I go to recreate it, but I’ll work something out. I just thought it fit the mood of your pose and your expression.”

“It’s beautiful. I’ve always liked watercolor.”

Jeongguk feels his lips softening into a smile. 

“Does it look a little more like you this time?”

Jimin’s quiet for too long and Jeongguk starts to laugh.

“Sorry,” Jimin snickers. “It does a bit.”

“A bit ?”

“Definitely more than yesterday.”

“Yeah?”

“A bit.”

Jeongguk chuckles, head falling back in exaggerated upset. 

“I’ll get it right one of these times,” he vows, and Jimin sounds closer when he giggles. 

“S’my fault, though I’m not really sure how to better explain what I look like. I don't think descriptions are my forte.”

“Said the lawyer.”

“Not technically.”

“This is good practice for you then.”

Jimin hums in amusement, and Jeongguk has this strange urge to keep him talking. Keep him from going just yet. He wonders if Jimin shares the sentiment since he poses another question. 

“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”

“I’m debating between digital and acrylic.”

“Digital art?”

“Mmhm. There’s a lot you can do with it, and I usually get prints enlarged or blown up on canvas,” Jeongguk explains.

“Do you have anything hanging up that you’ve done digitally?

Jeongguk tries to think, wracking his mind to remember, as he has a tendency to forget after he's completed a project and moved on. 

“There should be one above the desk in the corner next to the kitchen. It’s a landscape.”

Jimin steps away and he hears an indrawn breath. 

“The one of the ocean?” he asks, and Jeongguk nods. 

“Wow. This is really gorgeous, Jeongguk-ah.”

His hands tug at his apron as he shifts, suddenly unsure what to do with himself. 

“Thank you.” 

It's still in his apartment, and Jeongguk can only assume Jimin is taking the time to admire his artwork before coming back.

“I’ll be here same time tomorrow, okay?”

“Sounds good. Think of another pose, if you can.”

"I will,” Jimin promises, and Jeongguk swears he can hear a softness to his voice that speaks of fondness, endearment, or at the very least, friendliness.

Jimin moves past him, and Jeongguk determines he’s putting his shoes on in the entryway, slipping them over his heels rather than untying the laces if his ears can be believed. 

“Have a good night, Jeongguk-ah.”

“You too, hyung. Get home safe.”

The door opens and closes shortly after, though Jeongguk remains standing there for a minute, listening before removing his blindfold. He brushes the hair out of his eyes while they adjust, and then he moves over towards the easel, gaze sweeping the painting. 

Another one that doesn’t look like Jimin. 

It doesn’t matter either way, to be honest. In fact, it’s better for the validity of his project if it doesn’t look like him. But as Jeongguk continues to stare at the art he’s created, he wonders where he’s going wrong, what needs to be fixed in order to capture Jimin’s likeness.

His imagination is clearly lacking, and the man he’s created on paper for the second time can’t measure up to the original. 

Jeongguk’s fingers twitch, a sudden urge to try again. To keep trying until he gets it right. 

It’s ridiculous. Irrational. 

How is he supposed to recreate someone he cannot see? Why would he even want to without Jimin there to guide him? That’s not the point of the project.

But the desire is there all the same. 

°•🎨🖌•°

Jeongguk wakes up tired. He spent a large portion of the night finishing up the watercolor painting, his perfectionist side out in full force. He wants nothing more than to go back to sleep, but his phone won’t stop ringing. 

“‘Ello?” he slurs, not even bothering to check the caller ID, or if he even answered the call properly.

“Guess what?” Taehyung’s excited voice rings down the line, and Jeongguk barely manages to stifle a groan, fingers carding through the long strands of his hair.

“What?” he croaks, rolling over and burrowing beneath the blankets. 

“Our morning lecture was canceled.”

“That’s great. I was gonna ditch anyway. Goodnight.”

“No, I wanna see you! Let’s have coffee.”

“You see me everyday. We have coffee everyday,” he complains, muffled into his bedsheets.

“And?”

“I’m quitting coffee 'cause of ulcers and stuff, so…I can’t.”

“Well good thing our regular place serves all kinds of beverages, so you’ll be fine.”

“I shouldn’t go though. Might relapse since it's so readily available there.”

“If you’re awake enough to come up with this many excuses, you’re awake enough to come get coffee with me.”

“I’m gonna fall asleep in my chair, I’ll be terrible company.”

“You’re not the best company when you’re conscious, so no worries.”

“Liar,” he huffs, throwing the covers off of him. “Have fun going by yourself.”

“I can hear you getting up, I already know you’re coming.”

“Don’t you have other friends? Call them.”

“They’re not you though.”

“You just said I was terrible company.”

“And yet I still want to hang out with you. Aren’t I selfless?”

“That’s not the word I would choose,” he grumbles, slipping out of bed and nearly falling to the floor. 

“I’ll see you in ten, Jeongguk-ah.”

“You sure?”

The line goes dead, and Jeongguk almost wants to go back to sleep just to spite him, but then Taehyung would come here and he would not be pleased. 

Jeongguk gets dressed.

°•🎨🖌•°

His hair is down and he’s wearing all black, clothes baggy and dark to match his mood. He is determined to fill whatever space he occupies with as much negative energy as possible.

Taehyung’s warm smile when he spots him seems to try and combat that idea, his arm extended, waving him over excitedly before he can even reach the counter.

Jeongguk goes, dragging his feet behind him.

“I ordered for you,” he beams, motioning towards the americano. 

“You’re enabling me,” he complains, collapsing into his seat. “Told you I quit.”

“Right, ulcers.”

“It’s a potentially serious problem.”

“Of course. Why are you so tired?”

Jeongguk’s lips close around the straw, taking a long pull of the sweet caffeine before he answers. 

“Was finishing the second piece of my final project.”

“Ahh, the watercolor one.” 

“How do you—” Jeongguk pauses before shaking his head. “Right. You two talk a lot?”

“Every day. He went on about what a talented artist you are.”

“He did not,” Jeongguk denies, feeling his cheeks heat. 

“Did too. Said he really likes your work.”

Jeongguk bows his head, taking another drink to keep from answering. 

“Are you being shy right now?”

“No,” he quickly denies. “I’m tired.”

“Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Probably getting sick.”

“You’re shy,” Taehyung declares. “His compliments make you shy.”

“I don’t handle praise well.”

“You love praise!”

“Yes, but I don’t handle it well.”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung says, skeptically. “You always seemed to handle it well in the past. You were even cocky about it, if memory serves.”

“You’re mistaken, I’ve always been humble.”

The photographer snorts and shakes his head. 

“You’re ridiculous. Are you going to any of your classes today?”

“The only place I’m going is to sleep,” he hurumphs, taking another long pull of caffeine.

"You're going to be able to fall asleep after that?" he asks, inclining his chin towards his drink.

"I'm immune," Jeongguk mumbles around his straw. "I practically bleed americano."

"If that's true, I think you have more than just ulcers to worry about."

Jeongguk shrugs and takes another long pull.

"What was so important I had to drag myself out of bed?"

"I'm giving you your daily dose of socializing."

"I socialize," Jeongguk huffs in mock offense, stirring his drink with his straw before taking another sip.

“You know you’re going to—” Taehyung suddenly trails off, and Jeongguk becomes concerned at the obvious shock written in his features.

“You okay?”

He understands why a moment later, when a kind voice greets the older man.

“Hey, Taehyung-ah. I don’t usually see you in here this time of day.”

A kind, familiar voice.

Park Jimin is behind him. 

Jeongguk knows he shouldn’t; and maybe it’s the exhaustion mixed in with his terrible curiosity, but he can’t seem to stop himself from turning his head, wanting a glance. A quick peek maybe. 

He only knows how to sabotage himself, apparently. 

Everything happens in slow motion. Taehyung’s eyes go even wider, and they flit from Jimin standing just behind him to Jeongguk himself. Maybe that’s what makes Jimin realize, and suddenly, two hands obstruct his vision, skin a peachy pink and just as soft as they cover his eyes. 

He’s right. He does have small hands.

Jimin takes in a shuddering breath behind him, and Jeongguk matches it, his world dark as he listens. 

“I am…so sorry ,” he says, the cadence of his voice shaky, his hands still firm over Jeongguk's face. “I didn’t realize it was you, I swear. You usually have your hair up and I’ve never seen you here before, and—”

He’s rambling. It’s cute. But he’s obviously remorseful of the situation. The fact that he feels as if he has to explain himself when they’re in a public setting at a coffee shop; on a college campus, no less—the literal life blood of students—is so fucking endearing. 

Jeongguk reaches up, fingers feeling around Jimin’s hand to give his wrist a squeeze in reassurance, and he’s sure for a moment the law student thinks he’s trying to force his hands away, his grip becoming tighter until he realizes what Jeongguk is trying to do and then relaxes.

“We had a cancelled class,” he hums in explanation, leaning back further in his chair and into the older man’s grip, hoping it settles him.

“Right. I’ll um, I’ll go. Don’t look, I’ll back away and leave.”

“Did you get your drink already?”

“Not—not yet.”

“Wait for your drink. I’ll keep my eyes closed and Taehyung hyung will let me know when I can look again.”

“Okay, uh. I’ll see you tonight?” 

“Tonight,” Jeongguk confirms, covering Jimin’s hands with his own to take over while he slips his free, the sounds of his footsteps moving away follow as he hastily bids them both farewell. 

Jeongguk feels like he can’t breathe. 

He just saw Jimin’s hands!

A minute passes. The counter calls Jimin’s name, the barista engaging in easy, familiar conversation that speaks to Jimin being a known regular. 

Jimin is a regular at his regular coffee shop .

Another minute.

“He’s gone, you can look now.”

Jeongguk keeps his hands over his eyes for a few seconds longer before dropping them with a sigh, his head immediately following their trajectory down towards the table. 

“You okay?”

He wiggles in some form of a negative and whines into the hard plastic surface. 

It’s sticky, but he doesn’t really care. 

That was close. 

If he had seen Jimin, his whole entire project could’ve been scrapped. 

But of course, that’s not what he cares about.

The only regret he has is the missed chance to see Park Jimin in person, to finally sate that part of him that's dying to know, and Taehyung seems to suspect, if his raised brow is anything to go by after Jeongguk pulls himself up again.

“You literally almost looked at him. Did you not realize?”

“I realized. Just couldn’t help myself.”

“Again, you’re ridiculous. Good thing he figured out it was you, otherwise you would’ve had to find a new model. And I don’t know that many people who fit your standards.”

"You say that like they're ridiculously high."

Taheyung stares at him pointedly as he takes another sip from his drink, making Jeongguk scoff.

“I guess I can’t come here during this time of day,” he mutters, pulling out his phone to stare at the clock. “I didn’t even know he came here at all.”

“Weird, huh? You could be running into each other and you wouldn’t even know.”

“Don’t put that thought in my head, I don’t need to overanalyze every person I pass and wonder if it’s him.”

“Why would you wonder, though? That interested in what he looks like?”

“Of course I am. He comes to my apartment and I attempt to recreate him for hours. Why wouldn’t I want to know what he looks like?”

Taehyung shrugs. 

“S’not usually something you fixate on.”

“The point is I fixate, and I’ve never done something like this before, so.”

“Good point, I guess.”

“Maybe I really should quit coffee,” he murmurs, staring down at his drink. “At least until this project is over. No danger of running into him, then.”

“You’re gonna be so miserable.”

“Will not.”

“You practically live on coffee.”

"It's not that serious."

"You literally said you bleed americano less than ten minutes ago."

"I don't remember that."

"How convenient for you."

“I can switch to tea.”

Taehyung snorts.

“Good luck,” he laughs, taking a long pull from his sugary drink, shaking his head to himself. 

 

Chapter 3: Digital

Notes:

A bit late, but I hope you enjoy.

When Jeongguk returns to his apartment, he doesn’t go back to sleep like he initially wanted to. Can’t now. Instead, he finds himself at his desk, drawing page after page of a set of hands

Park Jimin’s hands.

He only saw his palms briefly, a split second, really. But they won’t leave his head, the image that flashes behind his eyes when they close, vibrant and distracting. He stays curled over his sketch pad, finishing and beginning anew, different angles, different gestures, trying to get every nuance he saw just right.

Jimin has deep-set creases that are almost red, and thick fingers. The middle phalanx on his pinkies in particular are bigger than the rest.

It’s fucking adorable. 

Sometimes Jeongguk catalogs details like a fine-tuned machine, as long as they’re interesting. 

And Jimin interests him. 

He tracks the time by the amount of light that beams across his page, the sun moving through its sky beyond his window heating his skin until it flushes. The exhaustion only exacerbates the situation, Jeongguk becoming increasingly disgruntled when after every finished piece, it doesn’t satisfy him. 

Something’s off. Something’s missing...

“Color,” he finally decides. “It needs to be in color.”

He has to try and capture that soft peachy hue that makes up Jimin’s skin tone.

Jeongguk is too tired to bother setting up the easel, and even though he knows he shouldn’t he paints at his desk, going with watercolor since the palettes are still readily accessible. 

He paints Jimin’s hands with fingers curled and relaxed. He paints them stretched open with the digits artfully splayed. Then he paints them cupped, as if to impetrate the viewer. And after that, he paints his fingers laced together, casting shadows on his palms.

It’s two o’clock by the time he puts the paintbrush down, his exhaustion finally forcing him to stop. Jeongguk practically trips into the blue velvet curtain that still separates the space, nearly getting tangled up in it when his attention is too focused on his phone as he attempts to set an alarm. He clears the thick material and collapses face-first onto his bed, and promptly passes out.

Jeongguk doesn’t move again until nearly three hours later when the banshee-like alarm blares right next to his ear, bringing a wince to his features as his heavy uncoordinated limbs feel around to silence it.

Dragging his feet to the bathroom he groans when he takes in his reflection. 

There’s paint on his swollen cheeks, indented lines from his pillow case adorning the flushed skin next to what looks to be the shade ‘Peaking Pink’ from his palette. His eyes are ringed, hair a mess and his clothes are wrinkled. 

Jeongguk brushes his teeth first, quickly moving on to wash the paint from his face before trying to tame the wildness that is his hair as much as he’s able to, finishing by tying it into a ponytail. It’s not a big improvement in his opinion but he looks slightly more presentable. 

From there he pulls out the easel with the mirror on Jimin’s side but leaves the one on his own folded up and out of the way, since he won't be needing it tonight. 

Going back to his desk he shuffles his paintings and sketches into the organizer that sits on the far corner in a disorganized mess and turns on his PC, waiting for it to load before hooking up his graphic drawing tablet that takes up the majority of the space. He moves the giant screen, pulling it upright and forward on its adjustable stand until it's at the perfect angle.

It had cost a ridiculous amount of money, and he had to sell several paintings in order to afford it, but the purchase paid off in the end.

He’s removing his oversized black hoodie, sighing when it loosens strands free from his ponytail to hang down over his eyes when a knock reaches his ears. Jeongguk looks down at his shirt just in case, but there’s no witty catchphrase or funny picture this time. Just a plain black T-shirt, despite the chill. 

“Who is it?” he calls, not bothering to fix his hair as he moves towards the door. Since he’s working digitally tonight, there’s no risk of him getting dirty whenever he has to swipe it out of the way. 

“Jimin.”

Grabbing the blindfold he discarded on the counter the previous night, Jeongguk quickly throws it over his eyes and feels his way around, grasping the doorknob and opening it. 

“Hi hyung,” he greets, giving a small; likely awkward, wave, opening the door further as he steps aside.

“Jeongguk-ah?”

His brow furrows at the cadence of Jimin’s voice, the older man sounding slightly breathless as if he ran all the way to Jeongguk's apartment, and he’s just about to ask if he’s okay when he hears a quiet murmur. 

“You have tattoos.”

Jeongguk blinks behind the blindfold, lashes caressing the fabric while he searches for a response. 

“I do, yes.”

The best he could come up with, apparently.

“A whole sleeve of them.”

“Yeah, it took months for it to be finished.”

“…Did you design them yourself?”

It’s posed as a question, but it sounds as if Jimin already knows the answer and just wants to confirm. 

“Every one of them.”

“Wow, that’s—wow.”

Jeongguk’s lips purse, equal parts confused and curious until he thinks he understands.

“Are you looking for someone to design a tattoo for you? Cause I’ve never done it for anyone else, but—”

“No. I mean yes, that sounds amazing, but I um, I just…like tattoos.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk blinks again, subconsciously rubbing at the dark ink on his arm. “I like them too."

Good one, Jeongguk, because that probably wasn't obvious at all.  

"Do you…have any?”

“A few,” Jimin admits, and he sounds more sure of himself when he does. “Here and there. Nothing big,” he rushes, as if eager to change the subject. “Anyways, I wanted to apologize again for today. I could’ve ruined everything.” 

Jeongguk adamantly shakes his head at the sentiment, feeling the sudden urge to come to Jimin’s defense, even if it is Jimin himself being far too harsh.

“You could never ruin anything, hyung. Promise. Everything's fine.”

He hears a slightly unsteady inhale, followed by a quiet that stretches between them, and Jeongguk really is contemplating asking Jimin if he ran all the way here, but that might be rude?

 

 

He's not quite sure.

“Hyung?”

“Yes? I mean—sorry. Yes?”

Jeongguk almost laughs, wondering what in the world is happening. 

“Um…are you inside?”

“Oh, right! No, just—”

There’s the sound of shuffling. 

“Let me take off my shoes.”

Jeongguk waits, more noise reaching his ears before Jimin steps up onto the hardwood floor behind him, the old wood creaking with the added weight. 

“I’m in.”

Slowly, Jeongguk closes and locks the door, turning back around with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. 

“Like I said before, no need to apologize. Everything worked out. And you don’t have to worry about running into me there again. I’ve uh…I’ve quit coffee.”

“Have you?”

“Yup.”

“Not because of me, right?”

“Oh no,” he assures, waving away his concern. “No, I’ve been considering it for some time.”

Not technically a lie. A couple of hours could definitely be defined as ‘some time.’

“Wow. That’s a healthy choice. I honestly don’t think I could do it.”

“Yeah, it’s a big commitment. Definitely not a spur of the moment decision.”

Jimin hums and the sound tapers off into a gasp. 

“Woah, is that what you do digital art on?” he asks, and Jeongguk figures out he’s spotted his graphic drawing tablet. 

“Yeah, it’s very involved.”

“Can I look at it?”

“Of course,” he answers easily, content to wait where he is while the law student sates his curiosity, but then he feels soft fingers — those small, thick, peachy-colored ones — skim over his hand, holding it in his own with quiet words. 

“Here, I’ll take you over there.”

Jeongguk nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he follows when he’s pulled, Jimin careful and slow while he guides him to his desk, getting him to halt his steps with a soft palm pressed against the center of his chest. 

Right over his rapidly beating heart.

“Wow. It’s like a small flatscreen TV.”

Jeongguk chuckles, a smile taking over his lips, though falling away just as fast with Jimin’s next words. 

“Jeongguk-ah…are those my hands?” 

He poses the question tentatively, almost as if the idea is inconceivable to him, but Jeongguk can't really process that right now.

“…Hmm?”

“There’s a pile of artwork on your desk, and the top one looks like...my hands.”

“Oh. Yes. They’re your hands,” he answers without shame, doesn’t usually feel embarrassment when it comes to things like this, and many have found that off-putting about him. That he’s blatant and blunt and very rarely uses the form of excuses to hide behind. 

But he probably should’ve put those away, at least to save Jimin from any awkwardness he’s potentially feeling if for no other reason.

It’s quiet for a second, but then Jimin breaks it, sounding almost reverent when he asks. 

“Can I look?”

That's different.

 

 

“If you’d like.”

There’s the sound of crinkling papers, some shuffling and then Jimin’s indrawn breath. 

“These are amazing.”

Jeongguk wants to shake his head, because he still feels like there’s something missing. Something that will only make itself known once he sees more of those hands and is able to catalogue every feature in order to capture it better on paper. 

“I’m serious. How did you get this level of detail and accuracy? You only saw my hands for a second.”

“Photographic memory.”

“Amazing,” he murmurs, and it sounds as if he’s flipping through every single one, spending a substantial amount of time admiring the art before moving on to the next. 

“You drew them a lot.”

Jimin doesn't sound uneasy, which hopefully bodes well.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw them,” he answers. “Wasn’t supposed to, but I did, so I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Had to draw them.”

There’s another; almost labored inhale that Jeongguk is forced to base his reactions off of, and then nothing. He’s left in his lightless world, wondering if he’s going to hear the front door open and slam shut, Jimin falling over himself to get out of his apartment. But the longer it goes without happening the more hopeful he becomes, even more so when Jimin’s side brushes against his own, as if he's shifted closer rather than distancing himself.

The older man’s voice is small, unsure when he poses his next question. 

“And if you saw me? All of me. Would it be the same?”

It’s Jeongguk’s turn to be so clearly affected, hands pulling at the bottom hem of his black shirt while he runs his tongue across his suddenly dry lips, but his voice holds firm when he answers. 

“It would be so much worse.”

“Would it?”

Jimin sounds different. Demure, almost. Maybe even flirty, if Jeongguk knew what he looked and sounded like when he flirts. He inclines his head in the direction he thinks the papers are. 

“I did all those in the span of a couple of hours, and those are just of your hands,” he croons. “Imagine how many there would be if I saw you in your entirety.”

Jimin makes a noise in the back of his throat, and Jeongguk wishes more than anything that he could remove his blindfold at that moment, desperate to see his reaction. To take note of the way he flushes — if he flushes — or if his eyes dilate. Or maybe he doesn’t have much of a reaction at all. 

It’s the not knowing that gets to him. 

“So digital, huh?” Jimin rushes, clapping his hands and quick to change the subject. 

Jeongguk does smirk at that. 

He’s clearly affected, though in what way remains to be determined. 

“Less mess,” he jokes, making Jimin give a nervous laugh, and he takes pity on him, moving on. “Did you think of a pose?”

"I did.”

Jeongguk smiles brightly, eager to get started.

“Are you ready?”

“M’ready.”

The warmth of Jimin’s proximity vanishes from his side as he moves towards the curtain, the familiar sound of it being drawn and then falling back into place reaching his ears. 

"It's safe. You can look now.”

Jeongguk removes the blindfold, taking his seat at the desk while listening to what must be the easel moving on Jimin’s side as he likely positions it where he wants, and then something that sounds like Jimin muttering to himself.

“You okay?” he calls.

“Almost done.”

He takes the time to turn on the tablet, opening up a new project and changing the specifications of the template. 

“I’m ready.”

Sweeping the hair out of his eyes, Jeongguk feels it when his lips tip up in a smile, unable to help it.

“Where are you?”

“On my knees on the ground, next to your bed.”

Fucking hell.

Jeongguk chokes on the saliva in his mouth, which seems to fill up with an excess amount while his brain short-circuits. 

“Your uh, your knees, Jimin — hyung , I mean. What about your knees? They could...hurt,” he finishes lamely, and he sounds like he's wheezing, as if he's seconds away from full on hyperventilating.

He's laughing at how sad he is on the inside.

“I’ll be fine,” Jimin reassures with quite a bit of pep in his tone. “I brought a mat.”

He brought a mat! He planned this, what in the world—

“How—” Jeongguk coughs, shaking his head even though Jimin can’t see him, and he wishes he remembered to grab a glass of water. “Sorry. How are you feeling today? How do you see yourself?”

Jimin hums in consideration, Jeongguk taking the time to free the stylus from it’s dock. 

“I feel…giddy,” he decides. “Confident, but also vulnerable. Coy is a good word.”

Jeongguk’s heart rabbits against his ribs, a slight tremor going through his hands that he has to calm by taking three deep breaths, though his voice still comes out rough and deep when he asks.

“What are you wearing, hyung?”

Jimin giggles, and Jeongguk feels a bit of the tension fall away, his own small laughter escaping at the sound. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Don’t laugh, okay?”

“I’m already laughing and I have no idea what’s supposed to be funny.” 

“I’m wearing orange.”

“Orange?”

It isn’t particularly funny, but he still can’t help but snort, Jimin trying to sound indignant even through his own amusement. 

“I said don’t laugh.”

“Why orange?”

“I like this shirt, and I look good in orange.”

“Nobody looks good in orange.”

“I do.”

“You must be ridiculously attractive then, because orange flatters no one.”

Jimin’s giggles taper off, a pleased hum emitting from behind his curtain, and Jeongguk likens it to a cat purring. 

“Is there anything on this shirt? Besides orange, that is."

Jimin laughs again before answering. 

“Nomad is written in white on the left side of my chest. On the back it says be a good human.”

Jeongguk won’t be painting the back, but he still likes the visual all the same. 

“My pants are black and tight. A kind of stretchy but form-fitting material. My socks are also black.”

“Tell me about your pose.”

“I’m on my knees, like I said, but I’m upright. Legs straight. My thighs are spread, chest out and open cause my back is arched a bit. My head is held high, and my hands are resting on the back of my skull, fingers laced to cradle it.”

“And your expression?”

“Determined?” 

he sounds unsure. 

“Challenging…or…defiant! Yeah. My eyes are narrowed, and…hard looking. Fuck,” he hears Jimin suddenly sigh. “I’m bad at descriptions.”

Jeongguk can’t help it, he laughs again. 

“No, it’s not bad—”

“Then why are you laughing?”

He does his best to turn the laugh into an exaggerated cough.

“Something in my throat,” he claims, cheeks hurting from how wide he’s smiling when he hears Jimin giggle again. “You’re doing great. Carry on.”

“Okay…my eyes are hooded, and I’m wearing eyeshadow.”

Jeongguk starts at that, something in his blood heating up.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, near the outer corner. A soft brown color that’s been blended out. Makes my eyes look smokey.” 

Jeongguk’s knee bounces underneath the desk, and his teeth bite into his bottom lip so harshly it stings.

“Any liner?”

He sounds like he’s being strangled again.

“Just on my upper lash line. Makes my features pop?” he wonders, as if posing the question to the room at large. “My eyebrows are doing something.”

Jeongguk huffs in amusement, chest vibrating with his silent laughter just as his knee hits the underside of his desk. 

“You okay?”

“Fine,” he grits, wondering how Jimin can make him go from feeling hot, to endeared to foolish. “Tell me more about what your eyebrows are doing.”

“They’re more drawn in, but I’m not frowning, or anything. My mouth is soft. Open. You can see my top teeth.”

“Hyung?”

“Yes?”

“This is going to sound strange.”

Jimin snorts.

“Okay.”

“What do your teeth look like?”

He’s quiet before he suddenly bursts into delighted giggles, making Jeongguk’s own smile grow even bigger. 

“White,” he answers immediately before his tone gives way to seriousness. “Small. Relatively straight, but I do have a crooked front tooth.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. For you it would be the one on my left side, if you’re looking at me. For the most part it looks straight, except if you’re like, at an angle to me, then you can tell that it kind of overlaps my other front tooth. It’s cute.”

He sounds a little bit protective of his crooked tooth, and Jeongguk’s smile turns fond. 

“I’ll make it cute,” he promises, gripping the stylus in a sure hold before he puts it to the tablet’s screen and begins to draw. 

The pose is relatively easy in comparison to yesterday's, Jimin’s hands out of sight behind his head, his feet as well, laid out on the floor behind him. The colors of Jimin’s ensemble sounds straightforward as well. No complicated designs to try and recreate. Shouldn’t take too long. 

“Is your head titled or looking ahead?”

“It’s tilted back…like I’m looking up at someone.”

Fuck.

He says it aloud when the stylus slips from his suddenly clammy hands and onto the floor. 

“You okay?” Jimin calls again, concern in his tone. 

“Fine,” he calls back. “Just dropped something. Tell me about your hair,” he encourages randomly, crawling under his desk to retrieve it. 

“My hair is parted to the side today. My right side, so your left, I guess. Makes my bangs hang over my eyes even more. It’s got a lot of volume too. Fluffy.”

Jeongguk retakes his seat, pulling a knee up to his chest in what he considers a comfortable position and resumes what he was doing.

“Any jewelry?”

“I’m wearing the silver cross pendant earrings again. And rings, but you can’t see those. I also have bracelets on both wrists. They’re pretty plain chain bracelets that hang a little loose.”

“No necklace?”

“It’s hidden under my shirt.”

“Your shirt collar, is it close to your neck, or loose?”

“Close to my neck.”

"Long sleeves or short?"

"Short."

“Last time,” he starts, eyes narrowing in concentration as he continues to draw, working on the clothes. “Last time you said it still didn’t really look like you. Which is okay, of course. But is there anything I can change to fix that?”

Jimin’s side remains quiet as he likely considers it, and Jeongguk waits patiently, tapping the stylus against his lips and only just refraining from putting it inside his mouth to chew on the end. He’s ruined more than his fair share this way and doesn’t want to have to replace it again. 

“I think my jaw is more angular, slightly more sharp. I know I said curved last time, but the shape is a little bit more pronounced. Also, my eyes. The inner corner goes up and back at an angle and then slopes down. There isn’t much of a curve to the top lid, if that makes sense.”

“Got it.”

“And my lips are bigger.”

“Bigger?” Jeongguk asks incredulously, not meaning to blurt that out, feeling his cheeks flush when Jimin’s amused giggle reaches him. 

“Yeah, they’re bigger,” he reaffirms, laughter still in his tone. 

Jeongguk hums, blowing the hair out of his eyes and continues to draw, doing the linework in a deep red color. The figure’s outline is complete relatively quickly, and the features don't take up much time either. He stares at the bright screen through tired eyes, surprised that he likes it so much. 

The pose is…eye-catching. Visually pleasing, especially from an artist’s standpoint.

No other reason.

Jeongguk adds another layer on top of the first and then calls out to Jimin.

“I’m gonna get started with color. How are your knees?”

“They’re holding up.”

“Need a break?”

“Not yet. I can stay on my knees for a while.”

Jeongguk silently cries, hands covering his face, teeth sinking into the meat of his palm while he tries not to have a minor breakdown because Park Jimin felt the need to tell him he can stay on his knees for a while for whatever reason.

“Yoga works wonders for the joints.”

. . .

Oh.

“I uh…I should give it a try,” he offers, pulling on the collar of his shirt.

Guess that explains the mat.

“Let me know if you do need a break though.”

Jimin hums again in response and Jeongguk gets to work, clearing his mind to the best of his ability so he can concentrate on what he's supposed to be doing.

In truth, he had a rocky start when first attempting digital artwork. There’s so many programs out there, and he's always had a problem with indecision. Add that to the learning curve that comes once he did decide on one, and it took a while before he was comfortable, not the biggest fan in the beginning. There’s so many paintbrush options alone, sometimes he would become overwhelmed. But now he has a folder with all of his favorites and he’s done it enough times he’s found that he actually rather enjoys it. 

The second layer after the linework he uses for Jimin’s skin, trying to find that perfect cross of peachy pink that he saw on the palms of his hands. He does a preliminary layer for the general color of the skin tone and then adds another layer he’ll use to blend in different shades and fine tune details. 

“Any shadows over your face?”

“I’m pretty well-lit tonight. Most of the shadow is from the hair that hangs over my forehead and eyes.”

Jeongguk hums again and continues, adding a darker hue to the side of Jimin’s nose as well as underneath his bottom lip, before shading his neck as well. 

It takes a while, and he works quietly, blending in itself should be considered an art form, but when he leans back to examine it he’s pleased with the result. Before adding another layer for the features, he paints on a warm brown with the brush option ‘soft sprayer,’ and blends it until it makes the eye shape more pronounced. 

He’ll come back to it.

“Got any plans for tomorrow?”

“What’s tomorrow?” he wonders absently, going into his color wheel for a subtle variant of white mixed with hints of blue and grey that he uses for the sclera of the drawing’s eyes.

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” Jimin answers, and Jeongguk hums in understanding. 

Friday nights for college students can still be a cliche. Jeongguk never really fell into the party crowd, usually suffering sensory overload if he made the attempt, or pure boredom with no in between, so he doesn’t bother anymore.

“I don’t usually do anything,” he admits. “I just catch up on work, or…sleep.”

“Sounds like me,” Jimin murmurs, and Jeongguk can feel the way his lips twitch even as he tries to concentrate on the tiny ophthalmic veins in the eye.

“Don’t get out much?”

Jimin snorts.

“Too busy studying. You know how much you have to retain in order to become a lawyer?”

“Only a vague idea.”

“It’s a lot.”

“Is that what you usually do on the weekends? Study?”

“Mostly. But if I take a break from it I usually feel guilty, and inevitably go back to studying again.”

“You should do something fun. I’m sure you deserve it,” he encourages, moving on to the other eye.

“What about you? Don’t you deserve to do something fun?”

“Drawing is fun for me.”

Jimin lets go of another genuine laugh, and as quietly as he can, Jeongguk laughs with him.

“Something besides drawing, I mean, that isn’t related to your major or intended choice of profession.”

“Is this your way of trying to get out of coming tomorrow, hyung? Do you have plans?”

“I don’t,” he rushes to reassure, and Jeongguk is glad to note he still sounds amused. 

“I’m fine with just sticking to getting coffee with Taehyung. That’s all the fun I need.”

“But you quit coffee.”

“Hmm?”

“You quit coffee. Earlier, you said—”

“Oh, right! Of course…guess I’ll have to find something else to do.”

“No…significant other to spend time with?”

Jeongguk almost snorts, his last relationship an undetermined amount of time ago, and a waste of it at that.

“I’m unattached.”

“Oh.”

Jimin sounds far more surprised than what the answer probably warrants. 

He keeps his voice as nonchalant as he can when he returns the question. 

“And you? Do you have someone waiting for you?”

“I’m also, um, single.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know a response to that that wouldn’t sound obnoxious, like single and ready to mingle, so he tries to go for sympathetic as he begins work on the drawing’s iris.

“I imagine a relationship would be hard to maintain with your course load.”

Jimin makes an affirmative noise, his next words causing Jeongguk to go still. 

“Not for the right person. I would make time for them.”

He’s not sure why it affects him so much, nor is he sure why he feels the need to answer, or to press. He’s curious by nature, and can’t help but want to know what qualifies as the right person. 

He's probably gonna puzzle over that in the middle of the night.

“Are you a romantic, hyung,” he hears himself ask instead, and blames the exhaustion. 

“Hopelessly,” Jimin admits, and it comes out a little unkind, and maybe that has a story behind it, like a previous partner unappreciative to his efforts or a bad break up. 

Either way, Jeongguk doesn’t like the idea of him finding fault in it. 

“I’m a romantic too,” he admits, adding a long shadow on the eye that would be caused by the upper lid and lashes. 

“Are you?” the older man asks, sounding pleasantly surprised, underlyed with something else. 

Something he can’t quite put his finger on. 

“I am. I like grand gestures and declarations, and all of the domestic stuff.”

“So do I!”

“Most of my previous relationships said I was being too intense though.”

“I’ve heard that too!”

Jeongguk can’t help but snort again while Jimin continues.

“Maybe we dated the same people.”

“Fuck, I hope not,” Jeongguk mutters. “I’ve dated some truly awful guys that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

"Wow, so have I."

"Any of them named Minseo?"

"No."

"Oh good, that would be weird."

Jimin giggles again, and Jeongguk’s face feels achy from smiling so much, moving on to the pupils of his drawing, filling in the dark circles before streaking them with white creating little pinpoints of light. From there, he shifts his attention to the pleasing curve of the artwork’s eyelashes, making them thicker this go around, wanting to achieve a certain look.

“There’s no furrow in your brow?”

“Nope.”

“Can you see your freckles in the lighting?”

“I can. I’m surprised you remembered I have freckles.”

Jeongguk probably remembers everything when it comes to Park Jimin. But he’s not going to tell him that. 

“Details are important to artists.” 

“Yes, but you also said yesterday that artists can be very oblivious.”

“I’m surprised you remember that.”

“Your anecdotes are funny. I also remember that you somehow managed to drink paint water before, on several occasions, it sounds like, and that you tried to get me to forget about it.”

“I see how well that worked out. And several is a bit of an exaggeration,” Jeongguk mutters, using a particular brush that is amazing at creating the effect of beauty spots. 

“Jeongguk-ah?”

“Yes Jimin?”

“My knees hurt.”

“Make yourself more comfortable. I’ll let you know when I need you to assume the position again.”

The sound of what must be Jimin collapsing to the floor echoes in his apartment, followed by a long, drawn out exhale. 

Jeongguk spreads an even smattering of freckles across the bridge of "Jimin’s" nose as well as over his cheeks, hitting the undo button several times before he decides he likes the overall look. He goes into his tools and changes the paintbrush out before asking his next question.

“What color would you say your lips are?”

“Umm...somewhere between coral and peach.”

Jeongguk consults his color wheel, choosing a shade he finds that fits those parameters. 

“Do you think it’s strange that I’ve seen you but you’ve never seen me?”

He only takes a second to consider it before shaking his head again, tracing the shape of his drawing’s lips meticulously with a color that falls somewhere between coral and peach while puzzling out his answer. 

“Might be unconventional, but there’s also something…thrilling about it, if that’s even the right word.”

“Thrilling?”

“Besides the descriptions you give me, I have to fill in the rest with my imagination. And I know for a fact it’s wrong, since you keep telling me my attempts to draw you don’t look like you. It keeps my imagination working, my mind running wondering how you really look. I guess in that sense, it's thrilling.”

“Is it going to be boring when you finally do get to see?”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Doesn’t seem fair though.”

“To who? You, or me?”

“Both of us.”

Jeongguk’s breath stutters in his throat, not wanting to overanalyze what Jimin might be implying in case he’s way off the mark. 

But it sounds like he is implying something.

“After tonight, we’re more than halfway done with this part of the project. Then I'll actually get to have you as a reference while I work.”

“You think it’s gonna be weird for you?”

“Why would it be?”

“Because you kind of had to do everything backwards. Usually people see each other first before getting to know one another. They already have preconceived ideas of who people are just off of what they look like, the way they carry themselves. You didn’t get to make any of those.”

“I made some. Didn't need to see you to learn minor details, or what's important.”

Another quiet spreads over the room like the early mist of morning rolling in, and then Jimin tentatively asks:

“Really? Like what?”

“You were nervous that first night, but polite even though I could tell you were uncomfortable. You kept trying to do whatever you could to be helpful and make things easier on me. You're kind, and considerate, like the way you helped me to my easel," he lists off while he works, brushing his hair out of the way again. "Or how despite my ridiculously creaky floor, it makes a lot less noise than usual when you walk on it, which means you’re light on your feet. And even though we don’t know each other, you still agreed to come to my apartment at night and deal with a blindfolded stranger so that they can paint you. Small and big things that say a lot about you.”

Jimin seems surprisingly emotional when he replies.

“That last part sounds like you’re calling me foolish.”

“Or brave.”

“Are you calling me brave?”

Jeongguk hums a non answer just to hear Jimin laugh again and it works. He imagines him still on his mat on the floor, curled up into himself, arms wrapped around his waist while he laughs, eyes bright…

It’s a pretty image. 

Jeongguk adds darker lines and spots of light to the lips to define them more and make them appear to be glistening before moving on to the teeth that peek through. 

The quiet stretches while he works on that cute crooked front tooth, Jeongguk finishing off another layer before changing out his brush and color.

“I’m working on your unfurrowed eyebrows right now.”

“They’re definitely doing something,” Jimin mutters, making Jeongguk smile again, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

He feels light, like he's full of air, and any minute he'll simply float away.

Jeongguk is positive that Jimin is the cause.

He has a paintbrush that simulates hair strands that he absolutely loves, and it makes quick work of the task. From the eyebrows he moves on seamlessly to the hair, a feature he’s always found strangely enjoyable to work on as he tries to discern just how he wants the strands to lay, adding in the subtle and unsubtle shifts of color to make it shine in his artificial light source. 

Jeongguk works quietly, filling in the lines until every blank spot disappears and adds another layer for the jewelry, then another one for the clothes. 

“Now when you say orange—”

Jimin giggles again, bright and loud and contagious. 

“It’s pretty bright.”

“How bright are we talking? Like tangerine bright or marmalade?”

“Very much marmalade pumpkiny orange.”

“And you’re saying you look good in this?”

“I do.” 

Jeongguk lets go of a drawn out whistle, addicted to the ability he seemingly has to make Jimin laugh. 

It’s simple to fill in the shape of the shirt, and from there to add a darker shade of orange to act as the shadows of the folded creases and wrinkles. Then he selects an off-white color to fill in the ‘Nomad’ on the upper left chest.

The pants are easy as well, and after he completes those, Jeongguk adds another layer, dragging it until it’s the first one after the linework which he’ll use to make the background. 

“I’m mostly done with the main sketch.”

“Wow, you’re quick.”

Jeongguk eyes the clock in the upper right hand corner of his tablet. 

“It’s already been over two hours.”

“Has it?”

“Mmhm.”

“Still, if I tried to draw I feel like completing something would take me days.”

“It still does for me sometimes. And when you go home I’ll continue to work on this and change things. But of course, the more you do something the better and faster you get.”

Jeongguk finishes working in silence, going over things in more depth until he's satisfied, deciding to start on the background after Jimin leaves. 

“I’m finished with most of it if you wanna come look.”

Jeongguk hears what could be Jimin rolling up his mat before his voice calls out.

“Have you got your blindfold on?”

“Yes,” he answers, slightly breathless over the way the question is posed, and slips the soft material over his eyes.

It’s only the third night but this already feels like routine. His sense of sight removed, the sound of the heavy blue velvet curtain shifting, footsteps approaching while his old floor creaks. Then there’s the warmth of Jimin at his side, and Jeongguk has to suppress a shiver.

“Oh wow, Jeongguk-ah.”

“Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s amazing!”

“It’s not finished yet, I’ll add the background and more detail later.”

“Well that just makes it even more amazing because it already looks so good and you’re not even done.”

Jeongguk’s gaze falls to his feet even though he can’t see them, and whispers a quiet, “thank you.”

“Are you blushing?”

“No.”

“Your cheeks are red.”

“It’s hot in here.”

“Not really.”

Jeongguk giggles, nose scrunching up at being called out.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.”

“You kind of fib a lot though.”

“Jimin?”

“Yes?”

“Take this and go,” he teases, holding out the envelope with money inside.

“Rude,” Jimin mutters as he takes it, using the flat side to gently swat Jeongguk on his tattooed arm. “People can’t take a compliment these days.”

Jeongguk snickers, shaking his head in amusement even as he tries not to reel over Jimin calling him cute and talented. 

 

 

It's not good for his health.

 

 

“What are we doing tomorrow, mister artiste?”

“Acrylic. A large canvas this time.”

“Sounds extensive.”

“Might be. Could take more than one sitting, but we’ll see.”

“Should I bring my geom tomorrow? You said you wanted to paint me with it the first time.”

Jeongguk is flattered he remembers, and nods adamnetly to his question, already excited.

“I think that would be perfect for tomorrow’s medium.”

“Are you going to try and finish this one tonight?” Jimin asks, and Jeongguk thinks he’s motioning to the screen of his tablet.

“If I can.”

“Don’t stay up too late. That’s how you burn yourself out,” he warns, and Jeongguk is surprised by the genuine concern he catches in his voice.

“I’ll be fine, hyung. That’s what coffee is for.”

“Yeah, except you quit.”

“…Right.”

Jimin giggles, and the way Jeongguk suddenly feels a warm body crash into him, it's pretty clear he’s falling over himself with amusement.

“Your face,” Jimin gets out in between peals of laughter, and Jeongguk can’t help but join him, giving little stuttered chuckles of his own, even if it's at his expense.

“Come on,” Jimin says when he finally calms down. “I’ll help you walk me to the door.”

He guides him across the apartment, stopping his motion with another warm palm over his chest, and then Jeongguk hears him step down into the entryway in order to quickly slip on his shoes. 

Jeongguk doesn’t know why he does it, but he breaks the silence with a blurted confession that causes the heat in his cheeks to flare up again, reaching all the way to the tops of his ears.

“Tonight was fun. I had fun,” he corrects, because he doesn’t want to assume the same for Jimin.

Nerves start to creep in when it’s quiet for too long, but then the older man speaks up, voice softer than usual. Almost fond as he puts Jeongguk at ease.

“I had fun too, Jeongguk-ah, and maybe it’s the fact that you can’t see me — because honestly, I’m not usually comfortable around people I don’t know very well — but you’re easy to be around.”

Jeongguk has never really heard that before. Most people find him too off-putting or detrimentally unpretentious. Easy to be around is...nice.

Really nice.

“You’re red again.”

“Probably got a fever.”

He freezes when a warm palm feels over his forehead, as if gauging his temperature and stealing the air from his lungs before it slides away.

"You don't feel warm."

"That's not a very accurate way to determine a fever, though."

“You're probably right. Get well soon, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jeongguk-ah.”

“Night Jimin hyung. Get home safe.”

Jeongguk hears his front door open and close—Jimin's laughter following him out—and tries not to look too closely into the way his mood drops considerably with the older man’s departure. 

°•🎨🖌•°

At first Jeongguk thought about exaggerating the background, putting Jimin on a rooftop at night, or a stage in a concert hall, looking every bit the seductive rockstar. But in the end, he liked the idea of him on the floor of his room a little too much to likely be appropriate, his rumpled bed just behind his kneeling form, drawing more attention to the lit-up signs just outside his window, bathing Jimin in neon.

He likes the outcome of it a lot, losing track of time as he takes in the subtle and not-so-subtle details of the piece. He gives no thought to the late hour, screenshotting a picture and sending it to Jimin with a simple, what do you think?

He’s surprised to get a reply immediately, the time on his phone informing him it’s just past three.

Still awake?

So are you.

Studying. And it’s gorgeous. You should have your own museum, or some rich art collector that like, privately commissions you, or something. The colors you used are amazing. 

Jeongguk’s cheeks flush over the praise, and he blames his exhaustion for the loud giggle he lets out into the quiet of his apartment. 

Thanks hyung. And maybe I already do have a rich art collector I paint for.

Makes sense. You’re wasted on university.

Jeongguk collapses onto his desk, biting his lip to keep the bubbling laughter at bay.

I’ll see you tomorrow, hyung. Well, later tonight, I mean. Unless of course you have Friday night plans.

The only plans I have involve being painted by you.

Jeongguk’s cheeks flush even more, and this time he lets that bubbly laughter free, eyes sliding closed for a moment. 

Tonight, then.

Tonight, Jimin confirms, and Jeongguk forces himself to get up and out of his chair, sluggishly making his way to his bed.

Chapter 4: Acrylic

Notes:

Sorry this is late. Spent the day making a map; strange, I know, and I'm in the horrible process of moving, so finding time has been a pain.

 

Some terms, if you're interested-

Geomdo or Kumdo - the modern Korean martial art derived from Japanese Kendo.

Geom - Sword

Dobok - Uniform

Jingum - Literally means "true sword," and is typically used to signify a blade that is meant for combat rather than ceremonial or spiritual purposes

Jeogori - Upper grament of Hanbok

Dongjeong - Removable white collar

Goreum - Coat strings attached to the breast part to tie the Jeogori

Chima Baji - Literally translates to "Skirt Pants." (Think Jeongguk in those flowy black pants during MOTS ONE rehearsal)

 

Thanks for reading. All mistakes are my own.

It’s noon when Jeongguk finally drags himself out of bed, and only because his doorbell is ringing. He doesn’t bother to check who it is, just leans heavily against the frame as he opens it a crack. 

Taehyung is on the other side, and without so much as a greeting, he holds out what appears to be an americano. 

“Oh thank god.” 

Jeongguk throws the door open the rest of the way and greedily accepts the drink, holding it close like a coveted treasure, retreating back into the safety of his apartment. 

"What do we say?"

"Thank you. I love you."

“I almost didn’t bring you one,” Taehyung admits, calling after him while he closes the door behind himself. “All that talk yesterday about quitting, and ulcers,” his whole body shakes like the very idea is abhorrent to him, and Jeongguk can’t help but agree when he takes a long pull from his straw. 

“Not quitting,” he decides between drinks. “Definitely needed a change of scenery, though. That place was getting tired.”

Pointedly, Taehyung eyes the room. 

“We’re in your apartment.”

“And?”

“And how is this in any way a change of scenery?”

Jeongguk takes another long drink and quickly changes the subject. 

“How’s class?” he wonders. “Did I miss anything important?”

“Of course not. Why are you suddenly so adamant on not going to your favorite coffee shop? It’s the only place you do go to.”

“I go out, don’t be dramatic.”

“Where do you go out to, Jeongguk-ah?”

He can’t stand the wide-eyed look of curiosity Taehyung directs his way, because he knows it’s a lie. The older man already knows the answer, and he’s just waiting to be smug about it.

“I go to the store,” he mutters into his drink, so he doesn’t have to look at the other. 

“It’s fine by me if you wanna stay home all the time, I just find it interesting that suddenly you’re willing to forego your usual place after running into Jimin there. It’s like you gave it up for him. Like…the two of you are getting a divorce and splitting up your assets, or something.”

“It’s fine. There’s only two more projects and then I can look at him all I want, which means I can go back to the coffee shop.”

“So you did give it up for him,” Taehyung says on a gasp, clearly scandalized. “Who are you?”

Jeongguk’s eyes narrow as he stares him down, pointedly taking another drink before answering. 

“You should’ve been a drama major.”

Taehyung purses his lips in consideration, as if he'd ever give up photography or art.

“S’not too late to switch, I suppose. There's always the option of a double major. Jin keeps trying to get me to convert.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes at the mention of Taehyung’s…person. He’s not really sure what the two would define their relationship as.

“How is Seokjin these days?” he questions absently, taking another drink and sighing at the caffeine. 

“He wants me to move in with him.”

Jeongguk chokes, coffee threatening to spray out from his lips, but he keeps them tightly clamped shut until he swallows it. 

“Yeah. That’s about the same reaction I had.”

“I didn’t even know you two were like…exclusive,” Jeongguk admits, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“We’ve always been exclusive. We just never defined anything, I guess,” he finishes with a shrug, like it’s inconsequential. 

“So…are you?”

“What, defining things?”

“That too, probably should. But are you going to move in with him?”

Taehyung hums. 

“Yeah, I think I am.”

“Well, that’s…I’m happy for you," he says with sincerity.

The older man beams, taking a sip of his own sugary drink while a warm flush covers the tops of his cheeks. 

“You should come by when I do. We could order food and have drinks.”

“That sounds nice,” Jeongguk grins. “As long as your boyfriend quits trying to pick fights with me.”

“That’s his love language, and you’re way worse than he is.”

Jeongguk stares at him from over the lid of his drink.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. How are things with Jimin going?”

It feels like an odd segway after discussing Taehyung’s relationship. As if to say, my partner is fine, how’s yours?

It makes his stomach all fluttery.

“Good. Tonight is the second to last project before I redo them.”

“Exciting. What’s the medium?”

“Acrylic. Jimin said he’s going to bring his geom too.”

“That’s going to make for an interesting piece.”

Jeongguk nods, trying not to expose how excited he is for the project, but Taehyung’s eyes are far too sparkly that it’s obvious he already knows. 

“Kinda feel bad he’s going to have to hold one of those poses for so long, though.”

That sparkle promptly disappears and Taehyung’s mouth falls open, eyes comically wide.

“You feel bad,” he demands, incredulous, and Jeongguk rolls his eyes, just barely managing to ignore the urge to groan. 

“I am capable of feeling bad, you know. You make me sound like an asshole,” he grumbles, offended, glaring when Taehyung snorts. 

“You’re not an asshole, you’re just not usually sympathetic when it comes to stuff like that. At least not in the past you haven’t been. Makes me wonder what’s different.”

Jimin. Jimin is different. 

“I’m a changed man,” he says instead, fidgety as he watches the way Taehyung eyes him and his americano and then pointedly looks around his apartment. 

“Right,” he draws out, taking another sip of his sugary drink and looking far too sassy for Jeongguk’s liking. 

“You’re so rude. Why do I even put up with you?”

“Cause I’m the only one who takes care of you while simultaneously calling you out on your bullshit.”

Jeongguk hums.

“Nah, that’s not the reason.”

“I bring you coffee sometimes?” 

“Might be,” he shrugs, taking another drink and ignoring Tae’s amused laugh. 

“Yeah well, it’s your turn to bring me coffee tomorrow. You can help me start packing.”

Jeongguk does groan then, the idea bringing with it a wave of exhaustion.

“Don’t wanna,” he childishly complains, though he can’t help but smile when Taehyung does so as well. 

“It’ll be good for you to get out. Sunlight, and all that. And start going to class again. Are you trying to fail so close to the end of the year?”

“Even if I miss everyday from now until then, they couldn’t fail me,” he mutters, taking another sip and trying to avoid Tae’s eyes as he feels him stare at him disapprovingly. 

“Don’t fall into bad habits,” he warns, Jeongguk’s expression softening. 

“I won’t, hyung.”

Taehyung nods, satisfied, his features revealing his fondness. He has a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve; as they say, and it's endearing. 

“So what time are you coming over to help me pack?”

Jeongguk whines, scoffing when he notes Taehyung’s unimpressed expression, taking back that 'endearing' part in his head.

“Let me check my schedule.”

°•🎨🖌•°

After Taehyung leaves, Jeongguk goes through his canvas organizer, which is really just a couple of pieces of wood he nailed together in a rectangular shape until it was sturdy enough to hold what he needed it to. 

He critiques what he has available before settling on a twenty-four by thirty-six inch linen canvas, which is massive, but Jeongguk doesn’t want to go any smaller for what he has in mind. 

Next he goes through his marked-up storage cupboard, pulling out the bag that houses his acrylic paints and brushes as well as the heavy white container full of chemicals, sloshing loudly with the filled liquid, nearly causing him struggle with its weight. 

He lugs the canvas and the rest of the equipment to the easel he set up earlier, pulling the side table closer as well, laying out everything he’ll need in neat order. 

He gets changed, choosing a plain white T-shirt with an art deco design that he won't mind if it gets stained, and then throws half of his hair up in a ponytail, no longer surprised or irritated when the shorter strands that frame his face fall free.

Jeongguk spends the rest of his time working on some projects for class that are due soon, periodically looking out the windows to eye the angry gray clouds. It didn’t rain yesterday, but there’s a good chance it will tonight. If so, at least he'll get a good night's sleep, the rain having the ability to knock him out.

He finishes cleaning up and is in the process of putting on nitrile gloves when the doorbell rings, a glance at the kitchen clock revealing that it’s two minutes to five. 

A quick search in the front pocket of his apron reveals he left the blindfold there, and he carries it loosely between his fingers, moving to answer the door. 

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

Jeongguk’s lips quirk up into a smirk. 

“I don’t know anyone by that name.”

The smirk turns into a full on smile when he hears Jimin huff in amusement on the other side of the door, muttering, “Don’t be a brat, Jeongguk-ah.”

Sliding the blindfold over his eyes, he opens it, still wearing an easy smile. 

“Hi, hyung.”

“Hi,” Jimin answers, tone light, and Jeongguk steps aside to let him in, getting better at judging where everything is without the use of his vision. 

Jimin removes his shoes in the entryway and steps up into the apartment, waiting where he is while Jeongguk closes and locks the door.

“Jeongguk?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why are you wearing gloves?"

“Oh. It’s so that paint doesn’t get on my hands. It’s not good for your skin.”

“I didn’t realize that was something you have to worry about while you paint,” Jimin admits, sounding surprised. 

“It usually isn't. I only wear them when I fingerpaint.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds. 

“You’re…fingerpainting?” 

“Mmhm. Takes more paint, but I like the result it gives.” 

“I can’t wait to see it, then,” Jimin answers, and Jeongguk feels a genuine smile take over his lips before the older man adds something in excitement. “I got you something,” he reveals.

“You did?” Jeongguk asks, taken aback.

Jimin hums again, and then there’s a rummaging sound, which is likely him searching through his bag as he looks to retrieve whatever it is. 

“You don’t have to use them, but I thought they’d help,” more shifting and then, “Tada—Oh.”

Jimin suddenly breaks out into giggles and Jeongguk can’t help but smile even if he doesn't know the reason.

“What’s so funny?”

“Forgot you can’t see. I held them up and everything.”

That causes him to snort, his own amusement taking him by surprise. 

“What is it?” he wonders, laughter tapering off, Jimin’s pout clear in his tone when he answers. 

“I got you some clips for your hair. I noticed you keep brushing it out of your eyes, so I thought they would help. These ones snap too, so they might work better than the regular pins you had before.”

Jeongguk is surprised he even picked up on it, and he honestly doesn’t know what to say. They’re just clips. Likely only cost a couple won; if that, but still.

He’s oddly touched by the gesture. 

Unfortunately, Jimin takes his silence as a bad sign. 

“You don’t have to use them if you don’t want to—”

“No! I want to,” Jeongguk rushes to reassure, and it’s torture not being able to see Jimin’s expression, to make sure that he’s not upset, or disappointed. 

“Are you sure? It’s okay if—”

“I do want to, I just...can you—”

Tentatively, Jeongguk reaches out, sighing in relief when he finds Jimin’s hands holding a plastic case that must house the clips. 

“Can you put them in for me?”

He feels it when a slight tremor goes through Jimin, and for a moment, Jeongguk is anxious that he’s done or said something wrong, but then small fingers rub across his knuckles, tiny circles that nearly make his breath hitch before the touch disappears. 

“Of course,” the older man whispers, sounding slightly breathy.

There’s several snapping sounds and what could be that plastic case rattling before Jimin speaks again. 

“Lean your head down a bit.”

“You’re shorter than me,” Jeongguk points out smugly as he obeys, a grin playing at his lips when Jimin scoffs.

He already had an inkling about that fact, but now he knows for sure, wanting to voice it to lighten the mood a bit. He knows he’s successful when he feels Jimin lightly smack him on his arm, clear laughter in his voice. 

“Hush,” he orders, and then Jeongguk feels those soft peachy hands — the only part of Jimin that he's ever seen — gently smooth back the loose strands of his hair, the clip weaving in between them before he carefully presses down until it snaps closed. 

He does this twice more, and Jeongguk can’t help but smile when he murmurs, “All done,” clearly pleased. 

He shakes his head back and forth, grinning when his hair stays put. 

“Better?” Jimin asks, and Jeongguk’s smile widens. 

“Much. Thank you, hyung.”

He fancies he can hear the softness in Jimin’s voice when he replies. 

“You’re welcome, Jeongguk-ah.”

There’s a short silence before Jimin tentatively speaks again. 

“I brought my geom and my dobok, I just need to get changed.”

“I’d say behind the curtain since the bathroom is kind of small, but the windows don’t have blinds, so...”

Jimin giggles. 

“It’s fine, I doubt anyone is going to be looking in at me.”

Jeongguk takes in a sharp inhale, but Jimin is already gone, the sound of blue velvet lifting and falling reaches his ears, followed by a soft, “You can look now.”

Jeongguk removes the blindfold, distracting himself by pulling out the front facing camera on his phone, knowing that if he concentrates too much on the sounds of Jimin undressing just on the other side of the curtain, it’ll make his blood pressure spike, or something.

Turning his head to the left and right, he eyes the clips in his hair, nearly giggling. They’re pastel purple, blue and pink, and they’re shaped like bows. 

Cute. 

Jeongguk puts his phone away, and goes back towards his station, shoving the stool off to the side. He won’t need it for this project, the canvas too big to sit comfortably for long. He looks at some of the color options he has. ‘Iceberg Blue’ is one of his favorites, and so is ‘Cadmium Green Pale.’

He doesn’t want the background to be in his room for this one. Instead he pictures warm blue skies and bright green grass. Maybe a pond.

Something that'll match well with Jimin's attire…

“All finished,” Jimin calls, footsteps light as he moves around.

“Do you have a pose in mind?” Jeongguk wonders, sharpening a pencil he’ll use for the outline. 

“I do,” Jimin admits, though he sounds slightly concerned. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just…gonna be hard to maintain, is all.”

Jeongguk hums in understanding, studying the pencil’s point and purposefully tries to dull it the slightest bit. 

“Take as many breaks as you need, and you don’t have to hold the position the entire time. Wait till I ask you about it before getting back into that stance, if that makes sense.”

“Understood,” Jimin affirms. 

Jeongguk sets the sharpener down and stares at the blank canvas when he voices his next question. 

“How do you see yourself today? How do you feel?”

“I feel strong. Like a superhero,” Jimin answers, mirth laced in his tone, and Jeongguk’s lips turn up in a smile.

“Why a superhero?”

“I always feel that way when I’m dressed in my dobok and I have my geom,” Jimin reveals, and Jeongguk can’t help but feel his heart melt. 

“Your geom…wooden, or real?”

“Real,” Jimin answers, and there’s a hint of pride there.

"Describe it to me."

"It's a jingum, about a meter in length. The blade is double-edged with a slight curve that rounds off into a point. The scabbard and the hilt are made of black lacquer, and the sword guard is a lotus design, silver to match the pommel, which is a ring. Two white tassels are threaded through."

"Sounds pretty."

"It is," Jimin coos, clearly pleased.

“Tell me about your pose.”

“My left arm is stretched out behind me, fingers spread, palm flat to keep the shape of that line straight. My right arm is doing the same, except it’s in front of me, so I’m thrusting the geom out, hand turned inward to better support the weight. My left leg creates another line, foot flat on the ground, and my right leg is elevated, knee raised up, foot resting against my left thigh, toes pointing down towards the floor.”

“Wow,” Jeongguk murmurs, taking in the visual of it. It's gonna be an amazing piece if he can pull it off. 

“Tell me what your dobok looks like, hyung.”

“It’s black with white accents. The top is in the traditional style of a hanbok jeogori, a v-neck that overlaps and ties at my waist. Both the dongjeong and the goreum are white, and on the back is a white dragon. I’m also wearing chima baji, which has a lot of material, but it’s thin so it flows when I move. They’re high-waisted, secured with a wraparound black belt, and over top of that is another black belt that marks my rank.”

“You’re the highest rank?” Jeongguk wonders aloud, and it’s easy to tell from his tone that he’s impressed. 

Jimin sounds cutely proud when he answers. 

“I am.”

“That’s really…wow.”

Jimin giggles at his horrible attempts to articulate, but instead of embarrassment he only feels fond.

He’s got it bad. 

Whatever it is.

“Now tell me about your expression.”

“My eyebrows are definitely furrowed this time,” he admits, nearly laughing. “I look mad. Intense? Have I used that one before?”

“Once or twice, I think.” 

“Damn,” Jimin mutters. “Fierce? That’s a funny word. I look like someone you don't wanna mess with."

He promptly ruins the image by laughing loudly. 

"Calm fury," Jimin adds once his own giggles have calmed down. "If that’s what an expression can be called. Like I have a decades-long grudge to settle and I’m about to get revenge.”

“Jimin?”

“Yes?”

“Do you watch anime?”

Jeongguk giggles himself when Jimin lets out another loud laugh, contagious, as usual. 

He's developed this habit of expressing joy more than he probably ever has any other time in his life.

Jimin makes it easy.

“I do watch anime,” he admits. “Not lately, though, but whenever I have time.”

“Keep describing your calm fury, if you please.”

“Right, well…my eyes are narrowed, my gaze is hard. Dark. It makes my face look more angular, somehow. My lips are firm, stretched, kind of? More of a cupid’s bow then round.”

"And your hair?"

"Parted to the side again. Not as fluffy, today. Really straight, so it's kind of longer, falling down past my ears."

“Any jewelry?”

“No rings this time. But I am wearing the crescent moon necklace, and drop earrings. Hoops that have a cluster of chains hanging from them.”

Jeongguk begins to draw, outlining the body first and trying not to be too detailed. 

“Go ahead and relax for now. I’ll tell you when I need you back in place.”

Jimin murmurs on the other side of the curtain, and Jeongguk tracks his movements with his ears, positive that he takes a seat in the same armchair he posed in that first night. 

He works quietly, concentrating specifically on how he wants the body’s pose to look, careful to splay the fingers on the hand reaching back behind him, wanting every inch to look as if it takes the utmost grace and beauty, while at the same time being deadly—

“Jeongguk-ah?”

“Yes, hyung?”

“There’s an empty plastic coffee cup over here.”

Jeongguk’s eyes slip closed. 

Fuck. 

“I thought you said you quit.”

“I was. I did!”

“For a day?”

“It just didn’t work out. Taehyung hyung  brought it. He enables me. I slipped.”

The sound of Jimin chuckling reaches him from the other side of the curtain, and Jeongguk feels as if he sees right through his ridiculous facade. 

“As long as it’s not causing you problems I don’t see what’s wrong with it. There are worse habits. Besides, once this part of the project is over, we can both go get coffee together since we like the same place.”

Jeongguk feels his heart swell, something like giddiness and hope building in his chest. 

“I’d like that.”

His ears are red. He can tell by the way they burn. 

It’s not like a date, or anything. Just two people who work together in some capacity getting coffee. 

No big deal…

Jeongguk takes his mind off of it by finishing the linework, moving back a step and studying the image every now and then, adding a few more details as he goes along. Once he deems it complete, he sets the pencil back down on the side table and pops his knuckles and then his neck for good measure. 

“Gonna start painting now,” he calls, opening the heavy white canister he pulled out earlier and pouring a little bit in a bowl shaped palette, then he opens that 'Iceberg Blue' and smears a decent amount on the fingers of his gloves. 

“Smells weird,” he hears Jimin murmur, causing another smile to come to his lips. 

“It’s turpentine. Helps thin and remove the paint.”

Jimin hums and Jeongguk eyes the canvas again before beginning, stroking his fingers down the linen with glee. 

It really is a pretty color.

He layers it on, genuinely enjoying himself when he gets to paint like this. It feels like a return to childhood, though his skill has developed a lot more since those days. He covers quite a bit of the canvas in it, working fast but methodical, having done this enough times to get the flow of it. 

Next comes ‘Robin’s Egg Blue,’ which he uses to blend into his primary color, creating depth in his sky and the fish pond he decides to put in. Outside, it begins to rain, but in Jeongguk’s painting, there isn’t a cloud in sight, the warmth juxtaposed to Jimin’s dark expression. 

The overall piece might have had more impact if he used more earth tones and shadow, some reds or even deep greens, but Jeongguk doesn’t want this one to be heavy. He wants Jimin to be lit up. To be seen. 

From ‘Robin’s Egg Blue,’ he goes into a more cobalt pigment, and then a hint of azure, smearing the paint until most of the residue is off of his gloves before dipping them in turpentine and wiping them off on an old rag. 

Tossing aside the shades of blue, he reaches for that ‘Cadmium Green Pale,’ smearing that onto his fingers before going back to the canvas. He fills in what’s mostly left of the blank space, curving a path with his fingers to create blades of grass, using the tip of his nail through the glove to define the detail, adding in reeds and cattails. 

He fills it in with darker greens and browns, blending in the colors to create shadows and depth, layering on the paint until he’s satisfied. He wants to get at least the first layer of the background done before working on Jimin, acrylic paint a lot less forgiving than watercolor. 

Jeongguk is just finishing up capping a murky green shade labeled ‘Swamp ,’ when he hears something and freezes.

“Hyung, is that your stomach?”

“Sorry,” Jimin answers immediately, sounding embarrassed. “I had a study session that ran too long, and I didn’t want to be late so I skipped dinner.”

Jeongguk doesn’t like that at all.

“What do you want to eat?” he asks, quickly removing his gloves and placing them off to the side to properly dispose of later before grabbing his phone. “I’ll order us something.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jimin tries to reassure, sounding anxious, like he’s afraid of inconveniencing him. 

“I know, but I’m going to,” Jeongguk answers, opening naver in order to look for nearby restaurants that sound good. “There’s a place I usually order from that does great Japchae and Hobakjuk if you like.”

“That sounds good,” Jimin answers, still unsure. 

“I’ll get a few things,” Jeongguk decides, putting in his usual order and just increasing the serving size. “It’ll probably be about twenty minutes.”

“‘Kay,” Jimin calls back. “You can take some money out of what you were going to give me tonight.”

Jeongguk snorts. 

Not a chance.

“Jeongguk-ah,” the older man says, attempting to sound reprimanding, though he falls terribly short.

“I can’t hear you, hyung, I’m concentrating.”

Jimin giggles as Jeongguk puts on another pair of gloves, deciding to work through until the food arrives, that way he can get as much of the background done as he can. 

Almost thirty minutes later, the doorbell makes him start, and Jeongguk rips the second pair of gloves off of his hands to join the first, quickly moving to answer it. 

He pays for the delivery and gently kicks the door closed, the smell making his own stomach growl and clench. 

“Food’s here,” he informs unnecessarily, setting containers out on the counter and removing two plates from his cupboard. After, he washes his hands thoroughly and then grabs the blindfold from the front pocket of his stained apron before removing it entirely and hanging it over the back of his abandoned stool.

Leaning up against the counter and out of the way, he pulls the blindfold over his eyes and calls out again. 

“It’s safe to come out now.”

He can sense Jimin approaching, imagining he can also hear him sniff the air before letting go of a soft moan at the smell of the food. 

“I wasn’t sure what you like, so I usually order a bit of everything.”

“Thank you, Jeongguk. That’s really sweet of you.”

He feels it when the tops of his cheeks burn red again. 

“No problem,” he nearly stutters, but somehow manages to keep his voice even. 

“Should we eat together?”

Jeongguk chortles at that, nose scrunching up. 

“Not sure how I’ll eat when I have to wear this thing,” he answers, absently motioning towards the black blindfold.

“I’ll feed you,” Jimin replies, like it’s the easiest, most logical explanation on the planet, and Jeongguk is pretty sure he stops working. 

“W-What?”

“Just tell me what you want to try and I’ll feed it to you.”

It’s stated plainly, like it really is just that simple, and that makes Jeongguk feel as if he’s making a big deal out of nothing

“...Okay,” he agrees, feeling it more than hearing when Jimin moves in closer. 

“What do you want to try first?”

Fuck. Why does he sound like that?

“S-Samgyeopsal...please,” he quickly tacks on, listening as Jimin begins opening the containers, the sound of paper tearing reaching his ears. 

Then there’s something at his mouth. 

“Say ah.”

Jeongguk’s lips part, the “ahhh” dutifully slipping from them as chopsticks holding the meat slide past, placing the thick, juicy piece along his tongue where flavor explodes before they retreat back out again. 

Jeongguk chews. And tries not to choke. 

He listens to what sounds like Jimin taking a bite next, small pleased sounds at the taste emitting from him. 

He’s really doing the most to make Jeongguk vibrate out of his own skin. Or that’s what it feels like, anyway.

“What next, Jeongguk?”

Swallowing is difficult, but there’s an acute sensation of an itch or a tickle at the back of his throat, so he feels compelled to try. 

“Bab,” he blurts out. It’s the first thing he can think of, even as he doubts rice is going to help with his current onset of throat problems. 

“Open,” Jimin orders in a whisper, and Jeongguk obeys, rice and chopsticks entering once more until he closes his lips around them both, the smooth wood slowly being withdrawn. 

He has as much time as it takes for Jimin to take his own bite of food to gather his wits, which isn’t enough. If he had all the time in the world, it still wouldn’t be enough. 

“Japchae,” he answers when Jimin poses that same question, and again the chopsticks wait at his lips for entry. 

Park Jimin is feeding him, and of all the ways he saw tonight going, this was not one of them. 

“Hold on, you got some sauce just here,”

A thumb gently rubs at the corner of his mouth, making Jeongguk’s breath escape in a pitiful whine, no louder than a blip, really, but still, he knows the reason and the cause and it’s enough to make him flush in obviousness. 

“You alright? You look a little warm?”

“It’s that fever I told you about yesterday,” Jeongguk murmurs softly, smiling when Jimin laughs.

"Comes and goes, huh?"

"It's a fickle sickness."

Jimin laughs again, the chopsticks once more returning. 

“Here then, eat your veggies.”

He groans an exaggeration, as if he doesn’t want to, even though he likes them. 

It has the desired effect of making Jimin giggle, and that’s all that matters. 

“You want some water?”

“Yes please,” Jeongguk nods, kicking himself that he forgot the drinks. “Cups are in the cupboard above the sink.”

There’s the tinkling sound of glass, and the water running before his hand is cupped in Jimin’s smaller one, which he uses to direct it to the cold surface of the tumbler. 

“Got it?”

Jeongguk hums and brings the glass to his lips, taking a long drink before offering it back. It goes on like that, Jimin asking him what he wants to eat, if he wants another drink, or quietly instructing him to open his mouth. 

It’s maddening.

His body thrums at the attention, far more sensitive with his lack of vision.

Once his stomach starts to protest, he holds his hands up and shakes his head, admitting that he’s full. 

“Want me to put the leftovers in the fridge?”

“You don’t have to,” Jeongguk reassures.

“I know I don’t have to, but I'm going to,” Jimin counters, repeating Jeongguk's earlier words, and from the sounds of it, he’s already repacking the containers and closing the lids, the fridge door opening and closing. 

“That place is really good,” Jimin compliments. “You’ll have to give me the number before I go.”

“I’ll text it to you,” he promises, leaning more heavily against the counter. “Feel better?”

“Much, thank you.”

“Happy to. Wanna get back to it?”

“Okay. But just so you know, if you start talking to me and I don’t answer, I probably passed out.”

“Tired?” Jeongguk chuckles. 

“Food makes me sleepy. Rain, too,” Jimin admits, and Jeongguk is so fucking endeared it’s more than a little sad. 

“That’s a shame, really. I was just about to start painting you.”

“You mean I have to stand on one leg now?”

“I do believe you chose the pose,” Jeongguk grins, smile widening when he hears Jimin huff.

“I’m disappointed in myself.”

Jeongguk snorts, shaking his head in amusement. 

“I’ll be working on your features first, so there’s still a while yet before I’ll need you in that position.”

That sounds...slightly suggestive. But the older man merely lets out an exaggerated sigh. 

“That’s a relief.”

The moment stretches, Jeongguk not wanting to tell him to go just yet, and Jimin clearly not wanting to leave. 

But there’s nothing for it, really. 

“I’ll tell you when it’s safe to take that off again,” Jimin promises, and there's his retreating footsteps filling Jeongguk’s ears and making his full stomach sink. 

He takes deep breaths, arms bent, hands gripping the cool smooth surface of the counter behind him, centering himself, trying to find that calm he usually feels whenever he paints—

“You can look now.”

Jeongguk removes the blindfold, allowing his eyes to readjust, grabbing his apron and pulling it back over his head and making his way back to his station as well as the unfinished painting, eyeing his progress critically while he puts on a new pair of gloves.

He’ll let the first layer of the background dry before adding onto it, grabbing a peachy pink from his assortment of paints, spreading a small amount on his fingers, wanting to be more careful than he was before while working on Jimin. 

“Tell me about the shadows on your face.”

“Since my hair is parted to the side some of it falls in my eyes. There’s shadows cast from that. Also on the right side of my nose, along the bridge, and under my lips, as well.”

Jeongguk works quietly, fingers smearing the paint into the white of the linen until it soaks into the fibers, giving life to his sketch. 

“No Friday night plans," Jimin suddenly starts, "but what about Saturday?”

“Taehyung invited me to help him move,” Jeongguk answers, eyes narrowing as his finger traces around the curve of Jimin’s chin.

“That sounds like something he’d do. He’s finally moving in with Seokjin?”

“Apparently,” he replies, brow furrowing even more. “I find it odd that you and I have the same friends but we don’t know each other.”

“Yeah,” Jimin agrees. “I’ve heard Taehyung talk about you before, but I guess we were just never introduced.”

Jeongguk is simultaneously upset and grateful over the fact. On the one hand, he could’ve known Jimin all this time, but on the other, he can’t imagine anyone more perfect for this project. 

Filling in the face and hands, Jeongguk grabs a similar color in a slightly darker shade, beginning to work on the shadows. 

“So that’s it for Saturday? You’re just going to help him move?”

“After that I’m going to paint you one last time before I get to see what you look like.”

“You sound excited.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Yes and no. Kind of nervous.”

“What do you have to be nervous about?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Jeongguk' laughs softly, Jimin following him before he quietly admits:

“I’m excited to see you, too.”

“You have seen me,” Jeongguk counters, amused, Jimin making a sound of denial. 

“I’ve never seen your eyes before.”

Something about that declaration hits Jeongguk right in the chest, fingers poised and paused above the canvas. 

He feels warm again. 

Coughing to clear his closed-up throat, he poses his own question. 

“What about you? Any Saturday plans?” 

“I’m studying. Gotta pass the bar soon.”

“That’s a major test, right?”

“It’s the test,” he corrects, sounding weary all of a sudden. 

“I’m sure you'll pass,” Jeongguk says, trying to be encouraging and probably falling short. 

“Thanks, Jeongguk-ah,” Jimin answers sincerely, and Jeongguk’s heart hammers in his chest. 

“You’re welcome, hyung. What color are your lips?”

Jimin gives another lilting laugh, his answer sounding like light itself.

“I looked this up last night to give a better answer, and I would say they're rose-beige. Or Sienna.”

“Oh, good color description.”

Jimin sounds exaggeratedly smug when he replies primly:

“Thank you.”

Jeongguk rummages through his paints, pleased to discover he actually does have a tube labeled ‘Sienna,’ uncapping it and placing a small amount on his finger. 

“You hung up the other projects you did of me,” Jimin notes, likely spotting the artwork he had framed from the first two times he tried to recreate him. 

“Needed somewhere safe to put them. I sent the digital one this morning to this one print place I go to. They’ll blow it up for me and frame it.”

“You’re running out of wall space. What happens then?”

“I find another way to store my art. I’m trying to open my own gallery, eventually, that’s why I’m holding onto them.”

There's a second's worth of pause before Jimin softly murmurs, “That’s amazing, Jeongguk-ah. Will you invite me to see it when you’re all set up?”

“It’s gonna take a while, hyung.”

“Bet it won’t,” Jimin argues. “You’re a very talented artist.”

“I’m not the only one,” Jeongguk answers, unsure why he’s arguing so much. 

Maybe he just wants reassurance from someone as sincere as Jimin.

And of course, Jimin provides it.

“Even still, I don’t think there’s very many like you. You’re special, so invite me to your gallery, yeah?”

“I promise, you’ll be the first one I tell,” he swears, lips turned up in a warm smile. 

"Then I promise to be the first one to see it," Jimin hums from the other side of the curtain, sounding pleased with the idea.

Jeongguk's smile widens at that, and he grabs ‘Silver Moonlight’ next, working meticulously to paint the tiny looping chains of Jimin’s jewelry. 

It takes a while.

Once finished, he dips his fingers in turnpintine again and rubs them off with the old rag, sorting through his colors to grab ‘Noir,’ ‘Coal Gray,’ and 'Lava Ash.’

“Okay, I need you in your position for a quick minute,” Jeongguk calls, listening to the rustling sounds of Jimin getting up and in place. 

After a moment he calls back, “Ready.”

“I know your dobok is black, but are there any spots where the light hits it more, the color better defined?”

“My left side on my jeogori, since my arm is stretched out behind me and doesn’t block the material. Also, the top of my knee that's lifted, and from what I can see in the mirror, my left leg.”

“Perfect. You can relax again. For now,” he adds, opening up ‘Noir.’

It gets quiet again, Jeongguk’s concentration returning as Jimin limits his questions, but he finds himself distracted all the same, missing the easy conversation that has always flowed between them, and his lips part, initiating. 

“Do you feel prepared? For that test you’re studying for?”

“Absolutely not.”

They both seem to break out into more peals of laughter at the same time, Jeongguk’s fingers continuing to fill in the linework. 

“Why not? You said all you do is study.”

 

 

“It’s a notoriously difficult test, and there’s a lot of material to cover and memorise in order to pass. I could be studying the wrong things, focusing on the wrong areas. We’ll see what happens when I take it.”

“I think you’ll do well," he reiterates, not liking the way Jimin already sounds defeated when he sighs.

“That makes one of us.”

“You have to go into these things believing you’ll pass. What is it people are always saying these days?” he pauses as he tries to remember, nearly exclaiming in excitement when he does. “Manifest it!”

Jimin giggles, and it sounds almost like he falls over on the other side of the curtain, making Jeongguk chuckle at the visual. 

“Maybe I’ll spend my time manifesting instead of studying.”

“That’s a great idea. I think you’re onto something.”

“You’re not supposed to sanction this.”

“Thought I was being supportive,” Jeongguk mock-complains, moving slowly towards the flared out chima baji of his drawing. 

Jimin giggles again, and it’s followed by another thump, a snort escaping past Jeongguk’s lips. 

“Are you falling?”

“It happens sometimes when I laugh.”

“I’ve never seen anyone fall from laughing.”

“They’re probably not doing it right, then.”

Jeongguk shakes his head, the wide smile he wears making his cheeks hurt.

He finishes up with 'Noir,' deciding to let it dry completely before going over top of it, since it is such a dark color. A glance at the clock reveals it’s really late, going on ten, and even though it’s Friday, he doesn’t want Jimin getting home too much later.

“I’m finished for now. I’ll complete the rest once it dries. Why don't you call a cab? It’s still raining, and you're more than welcome to wait in here for it to arrive."

Jimin hums in acknowledgement, Jeongguk’s ears picking up the sound of his quick phone call as he removes the gloves and starts cleaning up.

“You wanna come look?” Jeongguk calls once he’s sure Jimin is off the phone.

“Of course.”

Jeongguk dons the blindfold again, happy to note that his hair is still held securely in place by his new bow clips. 

“You can come out now.”

Footsteps approach, his creaky floorboards marking his progression, and Jimin stands beside him as he takes it in.

“Oh, wow…”

It’s quiet, Jimin making little sounds in the back of his throat that drive Jeongguk crazy.

“This is not what I imagine when I picture fingerpainting.”

Jeongguk makes an inquiring noise, Jimin sounding distracted when he answers, as if he’s still taking in the details. 

“I imagine four year olds and printer paper with suns hanging in the corner to shine down on stick figures and straight-line plants. This—”

He takes in a deep breath.

“This is not that. This is gorgeous.”

Jeongguk is blushing again, he knows he is, something about Jimin’s praise setting him off every time.

“Thank you, hyung. That means a lot to me,” he reveals honestly, for once not resorting to humor in an attempt to take the attention off of him. 

A hand finds his, fingers tracing between his knuckles, slipping in between his own until they intertwine before giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“I really like what you did with the background too.”

“You don’t think it’s too bright for your decades-long grudge?”

“Nah,” he denies. “This way they can see me coming.”

Jeongguk snorts, and it causes Jimin to collapse against him as he breaks into another fit of laughter.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Jimin parrots back, trying and failing to sound offended. 

“Tomorrow is the last session before I redo everything. Do you have a final pose in mind? It’s gotta top the others,” he teases, not serious.

“Oh, I have a few ideas,” Jimin reveals, and something about his tone makes Jeongguk physically shiver. 

Jimin’s phone buzzes, and he sounds almost disappointed when he reveals, “cab’s here.”

“Don’t forget this,” Jeongguk murmurs, still holding onto Jimin’s hand with one of his own as he pulls out the envelope from his apron pocket with the other.

Carefully, Jimin takes it, tone almost wistful when he speaks again. 

“Thanks for this, Jeongguk-ah. Not just for the money, but everything else as well. The food. Your company—” he giggles softly when he adds “—it’s the best Friday night I’ve had in a long time.”

“Me too, Jimin,” he answers without hesitation, unable to feel bad for dropping honorifics again. 

Jimin pulls Jeongguk’s hand, tugging him along, helping to walk him to the door, as he puts it. Silently, he listens to the older man put on his shoes, the heel of what must be his boots clicking against the laminate flooring of his entryway. 

“Have a good night, Jeongguk.”

“Get home safely, hyung. Text me when you make it.”

“I will. See you tomorrow.”

Jeongguk’s smile is wide when he answers. 

“Yeah. I will.”

Notes:

Extra credit if you recognize Jimin's pose

Chapter 5: Oil

Notes:

Sorry if this is terrible, I wrote it in between packing.

For those who guessed that Jimin's pose in the last chapter was taken from Yoongi's sword dance in Daechwita I applaud you.

It's Saturday morning, and as promised, Jeongguk finds himself in Taehyung’s tiny apartment after a quick stop at the coffee shop, battling with tape while he attempts to help seal up boxes. The best part is the photographer doesn't have a lot of stuff, so he's pretty much already packed, and as such they develop a system. Jin carries the boxes into the living room, Taehyung labels them, and in between drinks of his americano Jeongguk tapes them closed. 

There was a bit of complaining in the beginning on Seokjin’s part; who felt as if he got the bad end of the deal, but all Tae had to do was bat his long lashes at him, gush about the size of his shoulders and all fuss had ceased. One look at Taehyung’s smug smile after he got his way and Jeongguk couldn’t help but be impressed. 

After taping up a box with ‘STUFF I NEED TO SURVIVE,’ written in bold letters on top, Jeongguk carefully places it in the growing stack of boxes he's completed and surveys the area with a pinched brow. 

“How confident are you in your labeling system?”

“Very,” Taehyung murmurs around the straw of his own sugary drink, and Jeongguk watches him draw what looks to be a stuffed bear on the cardboard flaps he’s got set before him. 

“What’s in that one?”

“My jammies,” he answers with a smile. 

Jin comes back, trying to discretely motion to Tae, pointing out one of the medium-sized boxes he sets down, and Jeongguk can’t help but snort at how terribly he fails. 

“Something you don’t want me to see? Are your sex toys in there?”

The older man cuffs the back of his head when he passes, moving more things around and ignoring the glare Jeongguk throws over his shoulder. 

Taehyung isn’t embarrassed in the slightest. 

“No,” he mumbles distractedly, working on the bear’s ears. “They’re in that one.” 

Jeongguk’s eyes follow where he points to see an already sealed box with an impressively detailed dick drawn on it. 

“Cute. So what’s in this one, then?”

Upon further inspection, he notices there's already a drawing on the side of what looks to be a framed photograph.

“There’s a couple of pictures of me with Jimin in there.”

Jeongguk’s gaze zeroes in on it like a moth to a flame, suddenly far more interested than he was before. The flaps are down but they're waiting for tape. Tape he’s supposed to put over it…

He could—

“Stop torturing yourself and seal it please.”

Jeongguk sighs. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

Rising to his knees he pulls the box closer, desperately trying to keep his hands from shaking. The cardboard feels like it's vibrating beneath his fingers.

The anticipation is killing him—

“Don’t you get to see him after tonight’s painting anyway?” Taehyung slurs around his straw.

“That’s hours away,” he grumbles, purposefully taking his time with the tape, stretching it out and wincing at the noise it makes. 

“You’ve made it five days, I’m sure a couple of hours won’t be that hard.”

“You clearly don’t know me as well as you claim.”

“You’re right. You’re a lot more melodramatic than I remember.”

“I’m an artist. What do you expect?”

“Touché.”

“I think you like him,” Jin taunts as he sets another box down, and Tae’s eyes quickly snap to him in consternation.

“Babe. We’ve talked about this.”

“Talked about what?” Jeongguk demands, expression drawing into a frown, watching as Seokjin remains tight-lipped while he goes to retrieve another box, looking chastised. 

“It’s nothing,” Taehyung tries to dismiss with an absent wave of his hand, and Jeongguk’s frown deepens.

“Don’t give me that.”

The photographer rolls his eyes, finally finishing with his teddy bear and passing it off to Jeongguk’s pile of boxes that are still waiting to be taped. 

“I just told him not to mention your crush in front of you.”

“My crush,” he repeats, confused.

“Jimin,” Taehyung elaborates slowly, his expression one of disbelief the more lost Jeongguk appears.

For lack of knowing how to react, he laughs. And then he coughs. And then he shakes his head. 

“I don’t have a crush on Jimin.” 

“This is why I told you not to bring it up,” Tae hisses at Jin, who just finished setting down another box.

“How was I to know he was this oblivious?”

“Because I specifically told you—”

“Can you both stop talking about me like I’m not here?”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says sincerely, expression morphing into irritation when Seokjin barks out a laugh. 

“Can’t you act? You’re a drama major for crying out loud!”

Jin gives a face that makes Taehyung narrow his eyes before he moves back down the hall to retrieve more boxes, Tae turning back around to face Jeongguk with a huff that disturbs the fluffy curls of his hair.

“I’m two seconds away from unpacking all my shit again, you know?”

“I don’t have a crush on Jimin.” 

“Of course you don’t, baby. You’re falling behind though,” he informs, motioning to the pile of boxes that still wait to be sealed. 

“Why do you say it like you’re placating me?”

“Look, Jeongguk-ah. If you say you don’t have a crush, then you don’t. The end.”

“Good. Cause I don’t.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I can’t anyways, so…”

“Why can’t you?” the older man mumbles around his straw, not sounding particularly interested as he begins to draw on another box Jin brought. 

“I don’t know him, for one.”

“I have a crush on Park Hyoshin. I don’t know him.”

“Really? He’s like...twice your age.”

“Not quite. And he's fucking hot,” he adds, clearly failing to see an issue. 

“That sounds more like attraction than a crush.”

“Tomato, tomahto.”

“I haven’t even seen Jimin, so I can't really be physically attracted to him.”

“Do you need to see someone in order to like them, though?”

“Of course not.”

“Sometimes personalities just click.”

“Right,” Jeongguk agrees, feeling off-footed. “It’s just really fast to claim I have a crush. I’ve only spent a couple of hours with him over the span of a few days...you know?”

“Mmhmm.”

“So I definitely don’t like him like that.”

“Of course.”

They’re both quiet for a while, the only sounds are Tae's sharpie marking up the box he's currently working on as well as Jin’s groans as he continues to lug around boxes. 

But then Tae decides to throw his whole argument into the great beyond. 

"I get instantaneous crushes," he mutters to himself. "But whatever."

Jeongguk's chest clenches, and he wonders why he's trying so desperately to argue away the idea in the first place. Why denial of its existence is so important.

“Do you think he likes me?”

“I thought it was too soon for “liking” to be involved,” he air quotes, sounding snooty.

“Platonically. More like a friend way.”

“Of course. You’re likable. In a friend way.”

Jin snorts as he comes back, both him and Taehyung throwing a glare in his direction until he leaves again, muttering to himself. 

Absently, Jeongguk thinks aloud, “Maybe when this whole project is over, I could, like, get a crush on him.”

“Are you seriously preemptively planning your attraction to him?”

 

 

“Of course not. I’m just saying—”

“Because if you already think you’re capable of that, don’t you think it’s possible that you might already like him? At least a little bit?”

“I do like him. As acquaintances," he rushes to distinguish. "He's nice and sweet, and funny, so. I mean...it’s not out of the realm of possibility for feelings to, you know. Evolve.”

Taehyung’s eyes roll before narrowing, and overall he looks completely unimpressed and done with the topic, but still he presses.

“So that’s a yes? It’s possible you could like him like him.”

"Anything is possible."

"Just say yes."

“...Yes?”

“Sounds like a crush.”

Jeongguk sighs, and instead of answering, he pulls out another long line of tape, pleased when the noise it emits causes Taehyung to wince. 

°•🎨🖌•°

He leaves Taehyung’s soon to be old apartment just after one, once they’ve paid him in takeout for all his help.

Jeongguk goes back to his studio and finishes work on the acrylic finger painting, the first layer is thick, but dry enough for him to add more over it. He’s got the bow clips in his hair again, keeping the strands held back and secure as he stares at Jimin’s posed figure, the paint blending beautifully into the vibrant colors on the canvas. 

He still feels...dissatisfied? If that’s even the right word. 

There’s something strange about painting a subject he can’t see. After all, how is he supposed to know if he’s doing Jimin justice? 

That’s not what the project is about, he reminds himself for the hundredth time, pushing aside any personal feelings he has on the matter and his incessant need for perfection in his work. 

He finishes up, giving himself enough time to clean his station and get everything ready for the fifth and final medium. 

He’s working with oil paint tonight, and he's excited. 

Jeongguk picks out another linen canvas from his storage and makes sure it's already primed. Then he retrieves the organized box that houses his oil painting supplies, ranging from different types of pallets, to both synthetic and bristle brushes and of course his paints. 

There's a nervousness that takes hold of him the closer it gets to five that has everything to do with the fact that he's also closer to seeing Jimin. 

Actually seeing him.

For some reason that seems far more bizarre than painting someone you can't see five consecutive times. 

Jeongguk sets out his supplies, going into the kitchen to retrieve a glass that he pours turpentine into. He’s just laying down a folded paper towel when his door buzzes. 

The blindfold is still lying innocuously on the side table and he collects it as he passes, approaching the door with what feels like butterflies in his stomach. 

“Who is it?”

“Jimin.”

Of course it is. Who else would it be? 

Jeongguk covers his eyes, and with a deep breath; or two, he opens the door. 

“Hi. Hello,” he greets, wanting to kick himself over how awkward he sounds. 

He's done this five times now, you would think he'd be able to conduct himself more naturally.

“Hi Jeongguk-ah,” Jimin answers, and he hopes he’s not imagining the fondness laced in his voice.

“Come in,” he invites, opening the door wider.

He listens to the sounds of Jimin entering his apartment, stopping to remove his shoes, and imagines the way his hair might fall, hanging over his eyes as he carefully swoops down in order to slip them off—

“I like your shirt,” he compliments in his usual observant way, and it takes Jeongguk a moment to remember what he’s wearing, a blush coloring his cheeks over the way Jimin always notices and takes the time to draw attention to his taste.

It’s just another black t-shirt today with a phrase in the center of his chest. 

What keeps my heart awake is colorful silence. 

“It’s a quote from Monet. And thank you,” he rushes to add, even more embarrassed than before. 

“You’re welcome,” Jimin answers, suddenly a lot closer than Jeongguk initially thought. “I’m all the way in, by the way.”

“Oh.”

He moves to shut the door, wiping his clammy hands on the thighs of his jeans once he turns back around, hoping that he’s facing the other. 

“Final project before the remakes,” he says unnecessarily. “Are you ready?”

“I think so,” Jimin murmurs. “I have a pose in mind, m’just working out the details.”

“Take your time,” Jeongguk offers easily, shifting his weight from the balls of his feet to the tips of his toes. 

“You’re wearing the clips,” Jimin notes.

His hand comes up in an automatic response, fingers feeling around until he locates the bows, even though he already knows they’re there. 

“Yeah, they work really well. Thank you again, hyung.”

“Of course,” Jimin answers, and Jeongguk can hear the smile in his tone. “They look cute on you.”

There go his cheeks heating up again. 

Jimin laughs softly before asking, "Are you working with oil paint tonight?"

"How'd you know?"

"You said it was your favorite. I figured you'd save the best for last."

“You figured right,” Jeongguk answers, pleased that Jimin remembered that about him. That he keeps track of things like that and listens attentively. 

Silence moves in and vaguely, Jeongguk feels vulnerable, as if Jimin is studying him, but he can’t be sure. He doesn’t shy under such possible attention, but a yearning is there to experience it firsthand and see it with his own eyes. 

“Come on,” Jimin softly encourages. “I’ll drop you off on my way to the other side.”

He feels a warm hand take his own, and he wishes to intertwine their fingers but only just manages to refrain while Jimin pulls him, guiding his movements in order to safely deliver him to the station he set up. 

That warm, soft hand slips from his, Jeongguk’s fingers twitching in reflex to hold tight, but he knows better. Footsteps echo in the quiet of the apartment, and for once, even his old creaky floorboards seem to hold their breath in anticipation, the sound of blue velvet folding in on itself before releasing again is louder than it has been previous times. 

“You can take the blindfold off now.”

Jeongguk stands motionless for a few seconds longer, grateful no one can witness it as he does, then he slips the soft black material over his eyes and off completely, lungs shuddering in his ribcage when he takes in a shaky breath. 

Something feels different. Like a shift occurred without him realizing—

“Jeongguk-ah?”

He starts at the hesitant way in which Jimin speaks his name, spoken in a question he doesn’t quite seem sure if he wants to voice or not.

“Yes hyung?”

“Like I said, I’m not sure about my pose yet. Is it okay to position myself anywhere in the room?”

“Of course,” Jeongguk reassures quickly. “The space is limited, so nowhere is off limits.”

It sounds as if Jimin breathes a relieved sigh, words soft and almost inaudible when they reach him, bringing a warm smile to his lips.

“That’s good.”

There’s shuffling on the other side, what could be his easel being set up in a new location, as well as rustling, and something creaking that he can’t quite place—

“I’m ready,” he assures, somewhat breathless.

 

Jeongguk puts his stained apron on and takes a seat on his usual stool, picking up the same lead pencil he used for yesterday's piece and eyes the stark white canvas. 

“Where are you?”

Another pause.

“I’m on your bed.”

The pencil falls from Jeongguk’s lax fingers, crashing to the ground and rolling away. It makes too much noise, heat blooming once more in his cheeks at the obvious blunder as he rushes to retrieve it. 

“Right,” he says nonsensically, nodding to himself as if that’ll clear the fog from his head along with all the images he has floating around of what Park Jimin could possibly look like spread out over his sheets. 

There’s too much saliva in his mouth. 

“And your p-pose,” he stutters, eyes slipping shut in mortification once he's back on his stool, pencil held in a grip so tight he's afraid of snapping it in two.

“My left arm is above my head,” Jimin starts, his tone slightly husky, but also nervous. “It kind of curves around the top of my skull, my hair fanned out just over my wrist. My hand is palm up, fingers relaxed, and splayed. My head is tilted back, neck arched, and my right leg is bent at the knee, which is pressed near my shoulder, held in place by my right arm which is wrapped around it. The foot of that same leg is stretched down, toes pointed to create a line. As for my other leg, it’s bent at the knee as well, but towards the ceiling with my foot flat on the bed, slightly spread apart from the other one.”

Jeongguk’s hands are shaking, and there’s a ringing in his ears. 

Park Jimin is splayed out on his bed. 

Fuck.

“Jeongguk-ah?”

“Expression!” he blurts out far too loud. “What does your expression look like?” he adds, softer this time.

There’s an obvious smile in Jimin’s voice when he answers, “My eyes are lowered, brows soft. My whole face appears soft, actually. Open. Relaxed, but also...inviting. My lips are really pink and parted.”

Jeongguk pulls at the collar of his shirt, and it feels as if sweat is starting to accumulate near his hairline. 

This piece is going to be the death of him. 

Although, a more accurate statement would be Jimin is going to be the death of him. 

“W-What are you wearing?”

That damn stutter again is giving him away. 

“I’ve got on a red t-shirt with thin white horizontal stripes. It’s inched up a little on my left side, showing some skin along my abdomen. Otherwise I have on black pants and my feet are bare.”

Jeongguk wants to draw. He has to. But his hand just seems to hover above the canvas, pencil held loosely in his grip as he tries to keep himself from trembling. 

Why is he so affected?

Maybe he knows why, he just doesn’t want to admit it.

"And…how do you see yourself? How do you feel?"

"Anxious," Jimin admits, and Jeongguk immediately wants to comfort him and put him at ease, but keeps quiet, listening, instead. "But also…sexy. Provocative."

The confession has Jeongguk taking in a deep breath, especially with that last word, lids sliding shut of their own volition as he fights to calm himself, his reaction so visceral it catches him off guard.

Gathering himself, Jeongguk forces his eyes open and speaks.

"Any jewelry?"

"Not tonight."

That's…different.

“I’m going to start drawing now,” he declares, and hopes it to be true. 

With another deep, calming breath, he finally begins, the telling sounds of his pencil scratching against the fabric of the primed canvas echoes in the room.

A minute goes by before Jimin speaks again, once more sounding unsure. 

“Jeongguk-ah? Are you okay?”

“Hmm? I’m fine, yeah,” he rushes to reassure, not sounding particularly convincing. “Why do you ask?”

“You sound kind of strange.”

“Strange? How?”

“Like...high pitched, a bit.”

“Oh.” 

Jeongguk coughs harshly, attempting to clear his airway.

“Maybe I’m coming down with something again,” he jokes, coughing until he sounds a little more normal, relief filling him when Jimin laughs as well, breaking a bit of the tension.

However, drawing Jimin in the position he chose isn’t really conducive to calming his pounding heart. Where he once found solace in the easy flow of linework, he now finds a harrowing experience, including the way his body betrays him, limbs anxious enough to shiver, while the very breath he breathes comes out labored and shaky. 

The pose is intimate and suggestive to say the least, and Jeongguk’s cheeks heat as he draws, getting lost in the eyes of his own sketch that stares back at him, inviting; just as Jimin said. 

Daring . 

Jeongguk immerses himself in the process, trying to remind himself not to add too much detail, but forgetting all the same. It’s only as he starts shading that he remembers and forces himself to stop. 

“Hyung—” 

Jeongguk immediately cuts himself off in order to cough again, not liking how affected he still sounds. “Do you need anything, hyung? I’m gonna start painting soon.”

Jimin sounds far too collected when he answers. 

Maybe even smug. 

“I’m fine, Jeongguk.”

Right. 

He starts with the background first, mixing cerulean blue with anthracite gray and ultramarine purple, trying to emulate that dark color of his sheets without relying on black. 

He wants this piece to be darker than the last one. More tête-à-tête, wishing to match the atmosphere to Jimin’s expression and pose, as if it were a lover he was looking back at. 

Rather than neon, like he used in the third painting, he wants Jimin’s form to be kissed by moonlight. 

His bed is pressed against two walls, with a window that hangs over the headboard, as well as another on the wall it hugs. It’s easy to imagine the way peach skin would be lit up in pastel blues, maybe even lavender, as well as other rich, darker tones. 

Jeongguk mixes linseed oil with the paint, slowing down the drying process even more and using it to spread the color further into the canvas, pushing and pulling it where he wants, layering them to emulate the creases in the blankets from Jimin’s body lying over top of them. He gets lost in it, a welcome distraction from his own hormones and social anxiety while he carefully follows the lines of his barely-there sketch.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

A smile comes to his lips, his hand allowing the brush to lower from the paper, eyes sliding towards the blue velvet curtain in absence of someone to look at. 

“You caught me off guard,” he admits, voice sounding lighter than it has all night. 

“Would you like me to change position?”

It doesn’t sound like the innocent question it's supposed to be when coming from him, and the way Jimin softly giggles a moment afterwards, Jeongguk can't help but wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. 

“I’m already painting,” he reminds him in amusement, raising his brush once more.

“You could start over. I won’t mind.”

"I like your pose,” he admits quietly. “Now I’m just worried about doing it justice.”

“Not really much of a worry when you’re as talented as you are.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Including your bed.”

Jeongguk drops his paintbrush, cursing when it leaves a streak of blue on his already stained hardwood. 

“Sorry,” Jimin murmurs, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Couldn’t resist.”

Jeongguk gives an amalgamation of a snort and a sigh, retrieving his wayward brush.  

“I got paint on my floor,” he whines, lips twitching up in a smile when he hears Jimin laugh, making him add, “You’re a menace.”

Quickly wiping his floor up with a paper towel, he then dips the bristles of his brush in turpentine to clean any dirt it may have collected before getting back to his piece.

It's quiet again as he continues with the sheets on his bed, filling in the space with dark blues, amethyst and grays. He finishes some time later, noting the perfect blank outline marking Jimin’s position on his bed. 

Fuck, he’s on his bed. 

It still doesn't feel real. 

“Do you need a break?” Jeongguk calls, mostly as a way to distract himself. 

“Nope,” Jimin answers, popping the ‘P.’ “I’m very comfortable.”

Another soft laugh escapes his lips while he cleans his brushes and begins to mix colors, creating a more pastel color this time, rather than dark, even though he's mostly using the same shades as before, only added with white. He has to mute that peachy tone of Jimin’s skin in order to match the dark dim room. He pulls from indigos and cyan. Violets and silver, blending them into each other with the tip of his brush and moving it along his palette, humming once he’s satisfied with the end result. 

It takes to the linen canvas beautifully, complementing the deeper shades from the sheets his form rests on top of. Jeongguk concentrates as he pulls and stretches the color from Jimin’s ears, to his face, down to his neck and the beginning sloping curves of his shoulders. He traces the lines that make up Jimin’s arms, the graceful splay of his fingers, those same peachy fingers that he’s both seen and felt before. From there, he strokes the bristles along the sketch's exposed abdomen, then all the way down to his small, pointed toes. 

He mixes in more color, layering on the different tones along with the darker grey and blue colors he still has leftover right onto the canvas, creating dimension and shadow in the skin, pausing in his work every now and then to take in his progress, teeth worrying the wooden tip of his paintbrush that slips into his mouth as he does so. 

The skin takes time until Jeongguk is satisfied with it, the oil wet and malleable, but the colors mix and layer beautifully, and if he doesn't like something, he takes some paint thinner to it, or his palette knife and carefully scrapes it away. He doesn't stop until he's satisfied, staring at the completed, filled in spaces with a nod before moving on. 

For the lips, he only slightly dulls a deep ultramarine blue color that has hints of purple, wanting them to draw the eye, just as Jimin said during their first session together.

“What would you say is your most prominent feature? The one everyone notices first.”

“My lips.”

“And what does everyone notice about your lips?"

 

 

“They’re big. People like big lips."

Jeongguk decides to add a hint of red to them, pleased with the outcome. Since the paint is still wet, he'll wait till the end or even tomorrow before adding in the highlight colors.

Cleaning his brushes again, he goes back to combining different shades, refraining from using straight black, and instead mixes darker colors such as reds with blues to create a purple so deep it could be black. He uses it on Jimin’s hair, fanned out over the pastel blue of the pillow beneath him and the arm that curves around the top of his head. Jeongguk uses it on his eyes, and his lashes, then moves to fill in the creases and shadows in his ears, as well as his nose. 

“I might fall asleep,” Jimin slurs, cutting through the established silence and sounding dangerously close to doing so.

“That comfortable, huh?” Jeongguk asks amused, continuing to add fine details to Jimin’s features, taking the same deep purple he used on Jimin's lips to emulate Jimin’s freckles, dotting them on the canvas with a fine-pointed synthetic brush.

“Your bed is like a cloud, and I’ve pulled one too many all-nighters.”

Jeongguk considers something, turning it around in his mind before taking a deep breath when he comes to a decision. 

It’s easier than he thought it would be.

“You don’t have to keep quiet. You can talk to me. Might wake you up.”

It's something he never would've offered before. Well, before Jimin, that is. If any of his other models tried speaking to him for too long he would've purposefully kept his responses abrupt to dissuade them.

But with Jimin, he welcomes conversation.

“You sure I won’t distract you?”

You’re definitely distracting. 

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Jeongguk hears himself assure. 

“We should get coffee tomorrow.”

He nearly drops his paintbrush again at the suggestion, but manages to catch it in time. 

"After tonight I'm going to be posing in front of you," Jimin continues, unaware of Jeongguk's struggle. "Could help us get used to each other."

"You think we'll need to get used to each other?" he asks, for lack of anything useful to say and sounding terribly strangled.

A noise like sheets rustle on the other side of the curtain, and Jeongguk's heart quickens, can feel the way his pulse hammers against his skin, drumming out a rhythm he's compelled to follow while his blood heats at the image of Jimin shifting around on his bed, body twisting into what could be a more sensual state. 

"It'll be different," is the older man's answer, a fact stated plainly, expelling Jeongguk from his inappropriate musings. "A different dynamic can be awkward at first."

"Good point. So, coffee then?"

"Coffee," Jimin confirms, the hint of a smile in his tone. "Unless you decide to quit again."

"Cheeky. Give me a time, I'll be there."

 

 

"How about we text each other when we're awake. Go from there."

"I like that plan," Jeongguk grins, gathering more paint from his palette and returning to the canvas. 

"I thought you would. Gives us more time to sleep in," he says around a yawn.

"It sounds like you need it."

Jimin absently hums, followed by more shifting and what could be him smacking his lips twice in quick succession. Jeongguk decides to ask a question of his own, hoping to keep him awake and engaged.

"There are two windows near you. Are you pretty lit up?"

"Yeah," he says slowly. “I’m pretty.”

Jeongguk blinks, feeling tongue-tied, hand frozen above the canvas. 

“Jimin?”

“Hmm?” he starts, sounding as if he was in the process of dropping off into sleep.

“As much as I love your self-confidence, I asked if you were pretty lit up?”

 "Oh. Yes. I mean...there's a lot of shadow, but mostly on my right side."

"Tell me where exactly," Jeongguk gently orders, even though he already has an idea.

"Since my head is tilted back, my face is mostly in the light, except the side of my nose. My neck is in shadow, and so is the majority of the right side of my body."

Jeongguk takes that same dark; not black, color he created, and uses it to shade in those same places Jimin listed off is in shadow, mixing it in with the already wet paint on the canvas, but not too much, weary of murking up the hue.

As Jimin yawns for the third time in less than two minutes, Jeongguk carefully sets his brush down on his palette.

"I'm making you a cup of coffee," he announces, getting up from his stool and turning around to the kitchen behind him.

"You don't have to," Jimin rushes to assure, and Jeongguk chuckles. 

"I do if I want you to stay awake."

"I can stay awake," Jimin grumbles. 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already fallen asleep on me at least once.”

"I’m pretty sure you’re wrong. And I don't want to be a bother."

"That's strange. I'm pretty sure I've told you before that you could never be a bother."

"I don't remember that," Jimin denies, making Jeongguk laugh louder. 

"Sounds to me like you're not listening, then."

"Impossible. I'm a very attentive listener."

"Listen to me make you this coffee then."

Jimin giggles, and the sound never fails to bring a wide smile to Jeongguk's lips.

He makes enough for the both of them, that way he can continue to work on the painting well after Jimin leaves, if he chooses, but promises himself not to alter his features after seeing them, no matter how tempted he is to do so.

"How do you take it?"

Immediately his face falls when he processes the question and realizes how lewd it sounds. Thankfully, Jimin doesn't address it, but something in his tone seems to imply that he knows.

"Lots of cream and sugar, please. I don't like bitter things."

Jeongguk shakes his head.

"You're just like Taehyung."

"Because we're both good to our taste buds?"

He can’t help but chuckle again.

"There's nothing wrong with bitter drinks," he defends, pouring a generous amount of cream and sugar into Jimin's mug.

“Bleugh,” Jimin mutters, clearly not a fan. 

He finishes stirring up the drink and carefully walks it over to the curtain. 

“Here. If the caffeine doesn’t wake you up, the sugar content will.”

He hears shuffling on the other side, and Jeongguk is about to close his eyes when a small, peachy hand slowly moves out from behind blue velvet, fingers open to receive the mug.

“Careful,” he whispers as he holds it up closer, “it’s hot.”

Jimin’s hand makes contact, wrapping it around the ceramic and slowly pulling it through to his side. 

“Thank you, Jeongguk.”

“You’re welcome, hyung.”

Reluctantly, he goes back to the kitchen, gathering his own cup of black coffee before going back to his station and sitting down on his stool, bringing the mug to his lips and taking small, tentative sips as he stares at his progress. 

A few minutes pass, maybe less when Jimin calls to him. 

“Jeongguk-ah?”

“Hmm?”

“You make really good coffee.”

Jeongguk looks down while his cheeks heat, even though no one can see him, suddenly feeling shy. 

“Glad you like it,” he mumbles, not sure if Jimin hears him. 

“How’d you make it taste so good?”

“Half a bag of sugar.”

He hears the older man giggle on the other side, and his own smile is nearly uncomfortable in response, the muscles in his face still not used to it. 

“If I’m bouncing off the walls in the next ten minutes, just know it’s all your fault, though,” he states, followed immediately by the sound of him taking another sip of the coffee, letting free a moan that makes Jeongguk's toes curl. 

“At least you won’t be sleeping. I can’t exactly go in there to wake you up.”

“Not yet,” Jimin agrees, reminding them both that in just a short while, Jeongguk will no longer have to keep Jimin’s appearance a mystery, and he’ll finally be able to get rid of the blindfold. 

“You’ll have to refrain from falling asleep until tomorrow night’s piece, then.”

“Back to charcoal. Your favorite,” Jimin says in amusement, laughing when Jeongguk gives an exaggerated sigh.

“It’s gonna get everywhere,” he complains, setting down his coffee in order to reclaim his palette and brush. 

“I never knew charcoal was such a nuisance,” Jimin admits, while Jeongguk finishes with that dark tone of color he mixed. 

“It’s usually not. I just make things harder for myself.”

“How so?”

“You’re probably thinking of charcoal pencils, correct?”

“Correct,” Jimin answers, “Like Jack Dawson in Titanic.”

“Ah,” Jeongguk sighs, only this time it’s wistful. “Jack and I differ, I’m afraid.” Jeongguk dips his brush in turpentine to clean it of paint before wiping it on the folded paper towel that still rests on his side table. “I work with charcoal powder, and use my palette knife to draw on the paper.”

“That sounds…”

“Unnecessarily difficult?” Jeongguk grins. 

“I was going to say impressive. I was just trying to think of a synonym I haven’t used before.”

It’s Jeongguk’s turn to giggle, cheeks heating up again at the praise. He chooses a deep crimson for Jimin’s shirt that likely matches his blush, and mutes it with a touch of lavender, to try and accurately match what the color would look like in a dim room. 

Satisfied with the pigment, he fills in the entirety of the shirt on the canvas before adding a bit of blue, deepening the color and going over the left side in certain areas where Jimin explained the shadow was more prominent on his figure. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he blends it in, creating a pathway of strokes in the paint, mimicking creases and folds in the fabric. 

When that’s to his liking, he goes for white, which he’ll use the majority for the highlight on everything from his hair, eyes, and features, like the tip of his nose, to the stripes in his shirt. Picking up a fine point brush, Jeongguk dips it in and decides to work from top to bottom. 

He’s just moving in to work on Jimin’s hair when he speaks again.

“I had such a crush on him when I was younger.”

“Who?” Jeongguk wonders, probably too loud than what is considered appropriate as all of his attention is pulled to the older man in his curiosity. 

“Jack Dawson,” Jimin elaborates, making Jeongguk smile knowingly. 

“Oh, I see. What did you like about him? His looks?”

“That’s the obvious part,” Jimin laughs. “He was kind too, if I remember correctly.”

“He was,” Jeongguk tells him, not feeling the slightest bit strange that they’re discussing crushes on a fictional character, which Jeongguk very much had himself.

“I liked that he could draw,” Jimin admits quietly, and Jeongguk swears he feels his heart skip a beat. 

“You liked that he could draw,” he slowly repeats, as if he’ll glean some piece of new information about the law student if he speaks it out loud, able to solve it like a riddle, eying his own artwork as if it is the answer. 

“I think I told you before that I’ve always admired people who have that talent. But also in the movie, I remember that scene of him telling Rose about the woman in the bar. How she would dress up every night like she was waiting for someone? I don’t know. He had a story for every drawing it seemed like, and it made me think that; because of his drawings, he noticed things about people. Things that others wouldn’t even think twice about. Made me think that he could really see them.”

Jeongguk’s mouth falls open, his hand still poised above the canvas, thoughts a jumbled mess. 

He comes back to himself a minute later when Jimin exhales deeply, the sound of the bed shifting echoing in the quiet apartment. 

“Sounds silly,” he mutters, almost seeming...embarrassed. "but I liked that about him."

“I don’t think it’s silly,” Jeongguk rushes to reassure, though his voice is quiet and deep, a stranger of his usual tone. 

“You don’t?” 

“I think it’s... fuck, I think it’s sweet,” he admits, not really knowing what to say.

“You do?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know you’re talking about Jack Dawson, but it makes me feel good, the way you talk about him as an artist.”

Jimin hums, sounding pleased, and the silence that follows isn’t awkward, nor is it uncomfortable, and Jeongguk basks in the warmth that fills up in his belly, going back to painting. 

“I wonder what you’ll see when you see me.”

It’s a whispered confession, almost too quiet to hear. 

But Jeongguk does, and he so desperately wants to find out it’s almost torture. 

They’re both quiet after that. Jimin sipping on his coffee every now and then, the bed creaking whenever he likely has to sit up in order to do so, while Jeongguk remains focused on his work, painstakingly adding every highlight to offset the shadows, and then the stripes on Jimin’s red shirt, imagining the places where they would no longer line up due to the folds and creases he added just before. 

He’s almost too nervous to finish, because that means there’s nothing left to do except to finally greet Jimin in person. He wants to put it off just as he desperately wants to get to it already, impatient to finally see him. 

Busying himself with cleaning off his brushes and then thoroughly wiping them down, Jeongguk steps back and takes in the sight of the filled canvas. 

The paint will stay wet longer still, especially after the linseed oil he used, so he’ll have plenty of time for corrections, but where he stands now, he’s quite pleased with it, everything seeming to come together from the atmosphere, to the pose, to the expression. 

It might be his favorite so far. 

But it's possible he could be biased because of...reasons. 

Jeongguk swallows around what feels like a lump in his throat, and then quickly grabs his mug of coffee before downing it, the temperature a lot more tolerable, and the caffeine soothing him. 

He sets the empty mug back on the side table and takes a deep, calming breath. 

“I’m finished,” he calls, hoping against hope that Jimin is still awake.

“You are?” he asks, likely for lack of anything better to say. Even he sounds nervous.

“Yeah. Did you want to come see?”

“Of course,” Jimin assures softly, the sound of the bed dipping reaching his ears. 

Jeongguk’s stomach swoops as if he’s on an amusement park ride, hands going clammy, a tremor running through him, terrified that he’s going to be sick with nerves.

Jeongguk knows he no longer has to, but he nearly hyperventilates when he sees Jimin’s familiar, peachy skin for the second time this night, tiny fingers curling around the thick material of the curtain in order to pull it back, and at the last second he dashes for the blindfold on the side table and throws it over his eyes while he holds his breath.  

 

 

He knows the exact moment when Jimin sees him, because an airy laugh reaches his ears, reminding him of bells, or the higher pitched notes of a Pan flute, pleasant and sweet. 

 

 

“Jeongguk-ah?” 

Slowly, footsteps approach, the creaky floorboards giving away his movements. 

“Yes, hyung?”

The air shifts, and he knows Jimin is right in front of him now, breathing suddenly becoming more difficult with the discovery of that knowledge. 

“Take the blindfold off,” he encourages, the whisper a suggestion, though it’s laced with what can only be described as need, pure and simple, that fact a powerful one the more he turns it over in his head. 

He needs Jeongguk to see him. To look at him. Just as Jeongguk needs it. 

The overwhelming state of such a thing is terrifying.

Jeongguk sucks in a deep breath and holds it, letting it out in measures as if it’ll leave him adrift in an uncertain sea if he doesn't. 

“I’m not sure if I can,” he jokes, while also being entirely serious.  

Another giggle reaches him, the Pan flute turning into windchimes, now. The gentle breeze that brings forth the sound caressing Jeongguk’s cheeks and brushing through the strands of his pinned-down hair. 

There's that pleasant ambrosial scent that Jimin carries, bursting to life in his senses and making him take a deep breath in the hopes of catching more of it.

“Nervous?” the law student guesses. 

“Yes,” Jeongguk answers honestly on a shaky exhale, seeming to delight Jimin further.

“Afraid I won’t live up to your expectations?” he wonders, clearly teasing, but Jeongguk is truthful with his reply.

“Fuck, you’ve already far surpassed them,” he practically laments.  

It’s Jimin’s turn to take a shuddery, indrawn breath, and Jeongguk nearly starts when he feels fingers slip over his hair beside the elastic string that wraps around his head, keeping the blindfold secure. 

“Shall I help you then?”

Unhurried, Jeongguk nods, words stuttering when they whisper past his lips.

“P-Please.”

Slowly, almost painfully so, Jimin removes the blindfold, another melodical laugh reaching him once it's pulled free.

“Jeongguk-ah?”

“Yes?”

“Open your eyes.”

Hesitantly, Jeongguk does.

“Oh,” he gasps, once his vision has adjusted to the light, and the image of what he can only assume is an angel stands before him. 

That can’t be right, though, can it? He must be dreaming.  

“Not what you imagined?” the beautiful being asks with Jimin's voice and a soft smile that has his heart melting.

Jeongguk’s eyes are as wide as his open mouth while he takes in his features, the way his dark hair falls flatteringly around his face, the curve of his eyes dramatic and expressive. There are the freckles across the bridge of his nose that he's tried to recreate, skin sun-kissed and flawless. 

His lips. 

Fuck, his lips! 

They’re...Jeongguk has never been rendered useless before by the sight of someone’s mouth, but Park Jimin is the exception, the shape of them plump and round and so pink he wants to press his fingers into them, see if he can cause them to swell up even bigger, worry the skin until that shade darkens to red and then soothe it better again.

They're obscene. Temptation personified in the likeness of a feature, stealing his faculties until he forces himself to look away.

He’s shorter than Jeongguk; as he already accurately guessed, more lean and sinewy than broad, and he looks as if he could fit perfectly in his arms if Jimin was ever inclined to find himself there. 

Everything about him is...gorgeous.

Ethereal.

“You,” he whispers, eyes hungry as if they have an appetite of their own, roving every inch they can see. “I never could’ve imagined you.”

Something flits over Jimin’s expression, dark and light simultaneously, a duality that is equally echoed in his countenance. Jeongguk can now see every detail; no matter how minute, that he got wrong in his works. Jimin's lips are definitely fuller, jawline that much sharper while his chin curves. His eyes are big, but in the brief time he's seen them they have also appeared sharp and narrow. Sultry, even.

And his body—

Slowly, Jimin lowers himself into a graceful bow, though he keeps his gaze trained on Jeongguk from beneath long lashes, the position causing his breath to catch. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Hastily, Jeongguk returns the gesture, clumsy and awkward since he is still unable to look away from Jimin, as if afraid he'll disappear if he does, like a mirage in the desert. 

Now that he’s allowed to look, he doesn’t want to stop. 

"It's nice to meet you as well."

"Your eyes suit you," Jimin suddenly remarks once they both rise back up again. "Pretty," he murmurs, and as if in response his eyes widen just as his cheeks heat.

They stand there, both unsure what to do, and Jeongguk has the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him, just to prove Jimin is real, and that his hand won't phase through him like an incorporeal form. 

It's awkward, and they both seem to realize it at the same time, bursting into simultaneous laughter.

"Good thing we're having coffee tomorrow," Jeongguk giggles, nose scrunching when Jimin points at him.

"See! I told you it was a good idea."

"I'll never doubt you again."

Jimin puffs up his cheeks and nods adorably, and Jeongguk can't help but be enamored with him. 

"Cute," he hears himself say, but doesn't fully register it until Jimin looks at him softly, his gaze unwavering.

"So," Jeongguk starts, wincing at how loud his voice sounds when he interrupts the silence. "Since tomorrow is Sunday, and we're getting coffee early, we can come back here if you want and start the charcoal remake if you would like to get home sooner. Only if you want, of course."

"That's fine by me," Jimin murmurs, seeming distracted, though his gaze is still hyper-focused on Jeongguk's face.

"Oh." Jeongguk reanimates when he remembers, pulling the envelope with the money he prepared earlier out of his apron pocket and passing it to Jimin with one arm outstretched and the other hand pointing to his wrist. Once the older man accepts it, he checks the clock in the kitchen and does some quick math in his head. "The amount should be right, but if not just let me know and I'll fix it."

Jimin’s eyes don’t leave him at any time during the exchange, and Jeongguk feels his heart quicken again. Swears he can hear his own pulse in his ears. 

“I never looked at the painting,” the law student calmly says out of nowhere, and Jeongguk jumps at the chance to clear the intensity of the air between them. 

Moving back to make room for him, he motions to the canvas in invitation, Jimin graceful as he moves, and even just the simple act of him walking has Jeongguk transfixed. He comes forward until he stands before the canvas, taking it in quietly while his gaze traverses every inch of the covered linen. 

“It’s beautiful, Jeongguk-ah,” he softly compliments. “I love the colors you used and the feeling of it. I wish I knew how to talk about art,” he admits, directing a pretty smile over his shoulder at him. “But I’m afraid I am a novice.”

“Your honest opinion is more than enough,” he assures, his own gaze moving towards the painting with a frown. 

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”

He shakes his head with a bittersweet smile. 

“Doesn’t look like you.”

“Ah,” Jimin hums. “I see. It’s still beautiful, though.”

Not when compared to you.

“I was going to work on it some more, but now I think I’ll leave it as is.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“I’ll be too enticed to make changes to the features if I do.”

Jimin beams, turning to face him fully.

“Tomorrow you can start creating accurate representations of me,” he comforts, and Jeongguk almost snorts. 

There’s no way he’s waiting until tomorrow. As soon as his guest leaves it’s likely he’s going to be up for hours. attempting to capture the divine characteristics that make up Park Jimin, just as he did with his hands. 

As if he can read his mind, Jimin gives a beguiling smirk that makes him appear coquettish. 

“You’re not going to wait until tomorrow, are you?”

“What gave me away,” he wonders with a small smile of his own. 

“You drew my hands over and over again when you saw them, and I asked you what would happen if you saw all of me. If it would be the same, and you said —”

“It would be so much worse,” Jeongguk quotes himself, watching the way Jimin looks at him from beneath hooded eyes. 

“Don’t stay up too late,” he softly orders, and Jeongguk finds himself captured by those lips again as they form around the shape of his words. “The sooner you wake up, the sooner we can get coffee.”

“I’ll set my alarm,” Jeongguk offers, distracted. 

When Jimin smiles, his breath catches with how pretty it is, taken in by the way his eyes turn into upside down crescent moons and crease cutely at the edges. 

Fuck, he never stood a chance. 

“That’s okay, then, but I’d like to see any pieces you finish if you’re okay with showing me.”

“Of course.”

Jimin hums, pleased. 

“I’m gonna go home. Might study a bit. Or pass out. Who knows.”

“Can you text me. When you get there. So I know you’re okay,” he requests, stilted and awkward. 

“Of course,” he parrots back at him, making Jeongguk chuckle.

They walk to the door together, and Jeongguk watches for the first time as Jimin pulls his shoes back on, tapping the toes of his boots against the floor in a manner that he can’t help but find adorable. He then pulls a simple black jacket from the entryway closet and puts it on, zipping it up to his neck. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jeongguk-ah.”

“See you tomorrow, Jimin. Don’t forget to text me.”

“I won’t forget,” Jimin promises, and their eyes linger, neither one of them moving for a moment. 

Jimin smiles almost knowingly, as if there’s a secret he covets, and with a small wave of his fingers, he opens the front door and leaves. 

Jeongguk’s breath leaves with him. 

 

Notes:

Thoughts?

Chapter 6: Charcoal Revisited

Notes:

Beautiful artwork commissioned by the lovely Ninjava and created by the talented Daria. I can't thank them enough for bringing this piece to life.

 

Instead of texting Jimin as soon as he's up like he's supposed to, Jeongguk immediately calls Taehyung, ignoring his slurred, half-awake demand of why the hell he’s calling him before two in the afternoon on a Sunday and panic-blurts his current crisis. 

“I’m attracted to Jimin.”

The other end is silent, the only sound being Jeongguk’s heart pounding erratically in his ears, until Taehyung croaks out, “Come again?”

“Jimin! I’m attracted to him. Emotionally attracted. Intellectually. Physically, sexually. All of the attractions. He’s fucking magnificent and I think I'm gonna hyperventilate.”

There's an exasperated groan, followed by quiet murmurs that sound like Tae and Jin conversing before rustling, a door closing and then another brief silence.

“You just saw him last night. It hasn’t even been a day,” the photographer hisses, clearly irritated. 

“You said you get instantaneous crushes all the time,” Jeongguk defends, feeling a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who scheduled getting a crush on him only after the project was over, remember? Because apparently he wasn’t crush material until you saw what he looks like. Sounds shallow to me, so now I’m judging you.”

“Of course I liked him before, I just didn’t want to admit it because I knew it would complicate things. I was in denial, okay? What he looks like has nothing to do with it. It’s just, like, the cherry on top of an already thick sundae.”

“Thick?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I never know what you mean.”

“Taehyung?”

“Yes?”

“Despite our differing ages, you’re my friend.”

“How dare you, but yes, I agree.”

“And as my friend; and this is only based off of what I’ve heard.”

“Of course, go on.”

“You’re supposed to support me. You know, listen to my problems. Offer advice. Make things easier and all that.”

"Even when I would rather be sleeping?"

"Even then."

“That sounds like a lot of work.”

“Friendships are all about give and take.”

“Yes, but what do you give me, exactly?”

“And since we’re friends," Jeongguk presses on, ignoring the question, "I need your help.”

“Of course you do, but I’m Jimin’s friend too, you know. Despite my better judgment, I care about you both, so no matter what happens, don’t do anything reckless, understand?”

"Of course I won't. Promise."

“Good. Now tell me more about how you’re in love with Jimin.”

“I’m not in love with him, I have a crush on him. What is wrong with you?”

“Tomato, tamahto.”

“Don’t start that again,” Jeongguk grumbles.

Taehyung hums absently, sounding distracted, what could be a cupboard creaking open is easily distinguishable down the line, and Jeongguk imagines the photographer to likely be making himself a cup of coffee.

“All I’m saying is yesterday you didn’t want to believe you had a crush on him, and now you do. Today, you don’t want to believe you’re in love with him. Are you seeing a pattern?”

Jeongguk snorts without humor.

“The only pattern I see is that you’re ridiculous. Are you purposefully trying to make me suffer?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

 “Can you just...let me freak out over one thing at a time.”

“What is there to freak out about exactly? Is this why you woke up so early? Because you’re panicking over the realization that you like Jimin? How unbelievable, say it isn't so.”

"It's not unbelievable, I’m not panicking, and I didn't wake up, I never went to sleep," he argues, jittery at the reminder, as if it's a better alternative.

"Why didn't you sleep?" Taehyung drawls, sounding frustrated with him again.

"Busy…drawing," he mutters, eyeing the filled folder of sketches he placed innocuously on his counter.

A loud exhale rings in his ear causing him to flinch, Taehyung clearly unimpressed, and likely already knows who the subject of such drawings are, even if he doesn’t say it. 

“And you call me ridiculous. Pot. Kettle.”

“Yes yes, all the kitchen cookware, now tell me what I’m supposed to do, please.”

Eagerly, he waits, hoping that Taehyung has some kind of wisdom to part with. He’s known Jimin for a long time, after all, is in a relationship of his own, and undoubtedly has some good advice. 

“Tell him?”

It’s spoken as more of a question than a statement, Jeongguk’s mouth falling open while the words sink in, though they don’t quite make sense.

“Tell him…” he trails off, waiting for some sort of clarification. 

“Tell him you like him .”

And just like that, all of his hopes slip away.

“Are you joking?”

“Do I sound like I am?” the older man wonders, genuinely curious.

"I hope so."

"Why?"

“Why would I tell him?”

“Oh, I don’t know. To see if he reciprocates? To see if there’s a possibility of taking your — according to you yesterday — strictly-platonic-acquaintances relationship to the next level.”

“I can’t just tell him I like him, that’s absurd. What if he doesn’t return my feelings?”

“Then he doesn’t and you don’t have to waste your time.”

“But I want him to return my feelings.”

“So do something about it.”

“Like what, woo him?”

Taehyung sounds apprehensive when he answers his question with a question of his own.

“Do you even know how to woo?”

“You make me sound hopeless. You’re aware I’ve been in relationships before.”

“Yeah, with assholes.”

“Assholes are still people.”

“I know for a fact that they asked you out, and you only said yes because you were put on the spot. You've never wooed anyone."

"I'm an opportunist," Jeongguk lies, smiling when he hears Tae snort.

"You're just notoriously bad at rejecting people."

"Am not," he mutters offended, toeing along the scuffed floor. “I say no to people all the time. You should know, you’re usually on the receiving end.”

“I’m different. You’re comfortable with me. If it meant putting an end to an awkward situation you'd agree to just about anything, don't lie. You're exes exploited that about you if you want my honest opinion. Jimin isn’t like your previous boyfriends. At all.”

“I know, and that’s why I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t.”

“But how can you be sure? You know him better than me, what do I do?”

“Well, if you don’t want to be upfront about it, try flirting. If you flirt and he’s interested, then he’ll flirt back.”

“Right. Flirt.”

“You know how to flirt, stop overthinking.”

“I’m awkward.”

“Everybody is. Jimin is no exception. I’m pretty sure he thinks awkward is cute,” he mutters, sounding baffled by such a thing.

It gets Jeongguk's mind going, the words "cute" and "Jimin" in one sentence conjuring up images of him, because he is. He's cute, kind and sweet and so many things. 

“I can’t even believe he’s single,” he murmurs to himself, distracted, a perfect replica of the man materializing out of thin air in his head, and still has him questioning if what he saw was real hours later. “Everything that I know of him, that I’ve seen, is beyond any—” 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Taehyung interrupts, causing Jeongguk’s face to draw into a frown. 

“What?”

“You don’t have to get all sappy about him to me. Go tell him this stuff, he likes that sort of thing.”

“Oh, and you don’t?” Jeongguk wonders sarcastically, even as he feels his cheeks heat from losing himself in the moment. 

“Only when it’s about me, and not from you, no offense.”

“None taken.”

“I also would rather be sleeping, in case you forgot you woke me up at an unreasonable hour on a Sunday.”

Jeongguk pulls his phone away from his ear to eye the time and then brings it back, frown deepening. 

“It’s ten o’clock.”

“Exactly,” Tae huffs, another cupboard slamming in the background. “As much fun as this has been, I’m going back to bed. Call me only if there’s an emergency.”

“But I’m in crisis!” Jeongguk whines, purposefully being difficult and grinning when Taehyung groans again. 

“You’re insufferable.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m texting Jimin those embarrassing photos of you from last summer.”

“Hey now, that’s—”

The call ends.

Jeongguk huffs down at his phone, his amusement giving way to nervousness, turning the sleek device in his palm, now warm from prolonged contact as he tries to work up the courage to dial Jimin next. 

Maybe he’ll just text. Jimin did say to text last night, but…

Would that be rude? Would he actually prefer a call?

For the sake of his already frazzled constitution, he decides to stick with what Jimin actually said and fires a text to his number, stating a simple, I’m ready for coffee if you are.

The response comes in barely a minute later, and it's enough to make him giddy. 

Getting ready, should I wear the same clothes I did for the first sitting? 

Jeongguk's lips part, surprised Jimin thought of it before he did. Must be the lack of sleep.

Yes please. Sorry hyung, I should have told you that before.

Jimin's response is once again, almost instantaneous.

No need to be sorry, Jeongguk-ah. I'll see you in twenty.

For such a simple response, it has Jeongguk's entire body lighting up, the nerves overtaking him, palms clammy as he gets up to get ready.

He picks out a plain black outfit that'll compliment his boots, making sure the shirt features shorter sleeves in order to showcase his tattoos. 

Jimin mentioned that he liked them that one time, so…

Lastly, he works on his hair, combing it out and smoothing it back in a half-up ponytail that'll help keep the strands out of his face. With one last look in the mirror he gives an apprehensive nod at his reflection, grabbing that same folder filled with both neat and not-so-neat papers that he’d rather ignore before slipping his boots on in the entryway and heading out the door.

The walk to the coffee shop goes by in a blur, and as the familiar windows and trellis come into view he shudders, nearly halting in his tracks and tripping over his own feet before he sets himself to rights. 

It's fine. He can do this. Nothing to be nervous about.

Jeongguk's skin feels itchy, and he has the sudden intense urge to dial Taehyung again so that he can talk him down, but his earlier warning of 'call me only if it's an emergency' rings in his ears and stills his hand.

But it's all fine, of course. Everything is…fine. Nothing to be nervous about.

That claim flies out the window as soon as he enters the coffee shop, the smell of roast and vanilla prominent in the air, but it isn't what catches his attention.

Across the way, seated at a corner table with a view, is Jimin.

The law student smiles when he notices him, and it's so bright and genuine that Jeongguk’s hand comes up to slide along his chest, acting as a shield over his heart, like it could in any way be effective. Unaware of his inner turmoil, Jimin waves gracefully with his fingers, while the smile reaches all the way to his pretty, sparkling eyes.

Jeongguk can't breathe.

Somehow, he returns the gesture — albeit less gracefully — and makes his way to the counter, ordering his usual before slowly moving to that same corner table.

He slides into the available chair with a grimace, the metal scraping terribly against the floor, grating on his already shot nerves as he carefully sets the folder down before him.

"Hi," he blurts out, eyes flitting over the tabletop before tentatively taking in Jimin's expression, which is so endeared it has his cheeks instantly heating. 

"Hi, Jeongguk-ah."

He's still not used to seeing him, both his blindfold and blue velvet curtain feeling like a security blanket in the face of Jimin's beauty, without which he is completely overwhelmed. The older man appears to be glowing, skin golden in the light of the sun leaking in visible beams through the windows, and he can’t help but think that it suits him, in the same way the particular shade of blue he wears does the same. The denim; washed and faded, compliments the rich color of his hair, which appears almost cherry-chocolate when lit up just right.

When he’s brave enough to glance up again, Jimin’s eyes seem to be drawn to his arm, or more specifically, the ink on it. It’s what he wanted, Jimin’s attention on his tattoos he so clearly likes, but it still has him feeling a bit self-conscious, though not necessarily in a bad way. He's just more aware of himself than he usually is. 

When the silence feels as if it’s stretched on for far too long, Jeongguk rushes to fill it.

"Were you up already, or did I wake you?"

"I set an alarm," Jimin reveals. "Wanted to get some more studying in but didn't wanna oversleep."

He directs another smile Jeongguk's way that has his heart fluttering, more of a smirk than anything else. 

"I'd ask you the same, but the bags under your eyes are answer enough."

"What's wrong with my eye bags?" He demands, pouting.

"They weren't so prominent yesterday," he reveals, pointedly staring at the filled folder beneath Jeongguk's palms. "You didn't sleep, did you?"

Gaze sliding up, Jeongguk tries to remain unreadable when he answers.

“Not a wink.”

He watches, fascinated as those thick pink lips tilt upwards in a catty smirk, something burning in the intensity of his stare, as if they’re not just getting coffee, but instead find themselves in a card game, and Jeongguk is desperately trying to bluff his way to winning, but Jimin not only has a better hand than him, but can also see through all of his tells with ease. 

It’s hard to swallow around the thick lump in his throat as he observes the way Jimin purposefully stares at the filled folder, and he wonders if those sharp eyes try to count the sheer volume of each sheet, attempting to calculate just how many there are, how much he drew him, how many times he tried to capture his likeness, and how many drawings he was able to work through in the span of one night. 

He looks at the folder a minute longer before fixing his gaze on Jeongguk once more, optimism staring back at him. 

“May I?”

Of course.  

That’s why he brought them, after all, because when they parted ways yesterday, Jimin asked to see them. But the sudden urge to guard the hastily drawn works catches him by surprise, knowing what they show, what they’ll reveal, like plain secrets out in the open. It’s another card game, and he can either show his hand, or bluff his way out of this, keep those secrets a little longer. 

Perhaps that is why he pushes the folder of artwork towards the man that inspired them, a statement in and of itself that he hopes conveys he is not ashamed, nor does he wish to hide.

His cards are on the table.

Jeongguk only hopes Jimin can see it for what it is. 

“You’re sure?” the older man asks, as if he knows the gravity of such a thing.

And maybe he does.

“I’m sure,” Jeongguk promises, voice surprisingly steady in spite of his nerves. 

Once given permission, Jimin reaches for the folder with quiet confidence, though his eyes remain on Jeongguk until the very moment he flips the cover open, then he seems to still, as if frozen in place, taking in the lines and shading of the pencil sketch of his head to his bust that rests on top. 

It’s a close up of Jimin’s face, one of many, joining the likes of full-body sketches, as well as individual works that focus on specific features, such as his expressive eyes and full lips — of which, there are many — along with the delicate curve of his neck, the mole on his finger that Jeongguk missed the first time he saw his hands, the tantalizing length of his legs in pants that hug him just right to create a more than flattering silhouette, or the way the veins in his arms indent the skin when he flexes them, and so on. 

Little character studies that make up just some of the things that fascinate him about Park Jimin.

He’s quiet as he flips through the papers, taking his time with each one, not glossing over a single page. It makes Jeongguk want to squirm in his chair as he appraises each, but he resolves himself to keep still.

Jimin works his way through the entire folder, and when he gets to the last drawing his expression remains composed while he shuffles the papers together, tapping them with care against the tabletop until they’re once again in a neat pile, then carefully places them inside the folder with a wistful look, eyes stuck on the crisp manila color. 

Jeongguk waits with bated breath, forcing himself silent despite his growing apprehension, anticipating Jimin to address it. He appears as if he’s going to, when Jeongguk’s name is suddenly called from the counter. Feeling wrong-footed, he stands, making his way to retrieve his americano in a dazed state, hoping that by the time he sits back down again, the air might shift to something more comfortable. 

However, the silence continues when he does return to the table, seconds stretching to emulate minutes, and with each passing one his heart beats faster, hands trembling until he buries them in his lap—

“You didn’t see me for very long yesterday.” 

Jeongguk’s gaze sweeps up, drawn to the sound of Jimin’s contemplative tone, watching as his brow furrows, even as his eyes continue to stare holes into the folder. 

“What I mean is, you were only able to look at me for ten; maybe fifteen minutes last night.”

Jeongguk’s own expression morphs into a frown, wondering what the law student is trying to say. 

“So fifteen minutes — if I’m being generous,” Jimin murmurs, “and in those fifteen minutes, you managed to see...all of this.” 

His hands reverently slide along the folder’s cover, and he finally lifts his eyes to connect with Jeongguk’s own, presenting something deep and profound inside of them, the likes of which Jeongguk has never seen before. 

“You remembered the way the scar along my eye curves down towards the end. Placed every freckle correctly along the bridge of my nose without adding another in or leaving one out. You saw the mole on my hand, and even noticed the birthmark on the back of my neck. All of it,” he whispers. “You saw and remembered all of it, in the span of fifteen minutes…”

“I — ”

Jeongguk cuts himself off, fearful that maybe he went too far. That he’s done something to make the other man uncomfortable, which is the last thing he wants. 

“Photographic memory,” he reminds, hoping that it’ll be enough of an explanation to set Jimin at ease, even if his mind did catalog every piece of information; not because he saw it, but because he went looking for it. Because of his desire to know every part of him —

Because Jimin leaves an impression that won't fade away.

Jeongguk watches as he seems to take in a deep, calming breath, though his form seems to shudder slightly right before he speaks.

“You’ve seen more of me in fifteen minutes than most of my friends do in years. Even more than people I’ve been in long-term relationships with.”

The expression Jimin wears after that particular confession makes Jeongguk’s breath catch in his throat, and it feels as if a current passes through him, electricity coursing inside his veins, sparking in his core until it bleeds out through the tips of his fingers, passing to Jimin and connecting them in never ending loops that create sparks. 

What is he supposed to say to that? What can he say to that? Fuck, Jeongguk hopes he’s not imagining all of this. That it isn’t one-sided; like he fears. That would be unbearable in the face of such openness and vulnerability. 

But maybe it’s better if he doesn’t show his entire hand, but rather lay the cards down one by one. If he shows too much too fast, it could be disastrous. After all, his project is only half done. If Jimin isn’t interested, it’ll only make the rest of the process horribly uncomfortable for the both of them. 

“We need the details, we artists,” he recites, voice unrecognizable. “Everything is in the details, without which, there would be nothing to capture.”

Jimin’s eyes take on a brand new light, his smile a little more...sharp? It sets Jeongguk’s heart off, the way he looks at him, radiating mystery.

“Did you quit coffee again?”

The sudden subject change throws him off, and Jeongguk frowns for a different reason this time. 

“Hmm?”

Inclining his head, Jimin motions wordlessly towards his untouched coffee, confusion swirling in the forefront of his thoughts before he remembers that disastrous lie, and that he has yet to take a drink. He makes the attempt to quickly rectify that, and nearly spills its contents for his trouble, quick reflexes being his only savouir. 

“You seem nervous,” Jimin points out, to which Jeongguk immediately shakes his head. 

“M’not.”

The older man raises one neatly shaped brow, almost challenging, and Jeongguk’s sigh seems to echo around them. 

“Okay, maybe I am a little,” he concedes.

“That’s okay. It’s why we’re here, after all. Trying to get used to our new dynamic.”

It’s a logical explanation, but far from the only reason Jeongguk is so awkward, and he feels caught between Jimin’s wit and his beauty, only knowing both separately, all the hours he’s spent listening to just a voice, melodic in nature, but without corporeal form. Now that Jimin is before him, he feels like a completely different person to the one he’s spent time with, having to accustom himself to both Jimin audibly and visually. 

His senses are being put through a lot.

Jimin seems to guess as much. 

“You can close your eyes if it’ll make you feel better.”

He says it with another smirk that has Jeongguk’s stomach doing somersaults, something it is very much not meant to do, and his mouth falls, words evading him, though he knows he has to say something. Has to combat this, somehow. 

Whatever this is.

“That would defeat the purpose of attaining that comfortability you spoke of.”

Jimin shrugs, smile turning wicked. 

“My presence seems to upset you.”

“Your presence overwhelms me, there’s a difference.”

“Are you not upset by being overwhelmed?”

“Upset? No. Curious. Intrigued.”

 “Is that uncommon for you?”

“It is,” Jeongguk answers honestly. 

"Why?" Jimin wonders, head tilted to the side like a puppy or a kitten.

“As bad as it sounds, I look at someone once, catalog all their details and mannerisms, and my head tells me that I’ve seen all there is to see. I don’t mean to, it just happens," he quietly confesses, feeling bad about it, but he also knows it's something he's unable to control. "I haven't felt that way with you, though.”

Jimin's brows flit up, clear surprise in his features.

“You think there’s more to me?”

“I know there is.”

“That’s a lot of pressure you’ve just put on me.”

“How so?”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“I rarely am.”

Jimin giggles, and seeing it in person is still on another level to just hearing the sound of it. When he laughs, his eyes crinkle charmingly, head thrown back while his body sways almost dangerously, as if Jimin can’t help but throw himself completely into his joy. 

It’s captivating.

 

 

“You think you're always right?”

“Not in the sense that I'm self-absorbed and claim my opinion is the only correct outlook. And I’m not trying to brag, I swear. But I know I'm good at reading people and an excellent judge of character. You can tell a lot by the way a person talks, walks. The way they carry themselves, the inflection in their voice. I pick up on all of it and come to conclusions that I'm always proven right on,” he shrugs, though Jimin still looks amused.

And maybe a bit intrigued himself.

“But what if you aren't this time? What if you’re wrong and I’m really quite mediocre?”

Jeongguk leans forward across the table, voice lowering, as if afraid someone might listen in to their conversation, that he'll be the one to be so easily read by a stranger, feelings on display.

“You couldn’t be mediocre if you tried.”

Jimin’s smile softens, his edges not so sharp while a pretty shade of pink dusts his cheeks.

“You’re overestimating me,” he grins, near to laughing again, but Jeongguk is completely serious when he answers. 

“I fear it is the opposite. You could never be boring to me, Park Jimin.”

Jeongguk watches, feeling strangely calm as the smile falls away from those pretty, plump lips, the eyes widening, an emotion akin to shock lighting them up from the inside, like twin lighthouses in a storm, searching for ships lost at sea.

Jeongguk is one such ship, and he wants those eyes to lead him to the safety of shore, just as surely as he wants to drown in them. 

Is this what Taehyung meant when he said to flirt? Is flirting meant to feel this intense?

Minutes pass, the quiet stretching on as Jimin seems to search for answers in his expression. Whether he finds them or not, Jeongguk can’t be sure, but he does address it, admirably attempting to once again fill the awkward air with conversation. 

 "You're very…"

"Peculiar?" Jeongguk offers after Jimin trails off. "Strange?"

"I was going to say blunt."

"Oh, yeah. It's gotten me into trouble before."

"I like that about you."

It's Jeongguk's turn to be momentarily speechless.

"Really?" he exclaims, nearly incredulous. "Most people hate that about me."

Jimin shrugs, expression softening again.

"I'm not most people."

No, Jeongguk wants to say, you're not. 

As it is, all he can do is smile.

They both take the opportunity to indulge in their drinks, getting comfortable in the quiet, settling with everything that’s been said. Jimin’s gaze remains on him for the most part, and Jeongguk returns the look, afraid of what it might be taken as if he turns away. 

“You said you stayed up late to study. Did it go well?”

“Yes and no,” Jimin admits. “I’m good at memorization, but when there’s hundreds of things I have to know it gets a bit tedious, and there’s a lot of mixups.”

The idea alone is enough to cause Jeongguk to grimace, nose scrunching in distaste, though it rapidly shifts when Jimin bursts out laughing. 

“What's the look for?”

The blush burns as it sears across his cheeks, embarrassed to be caught. 

“Sounds stressful,” he shrugs. “I wouldn’t be able to focus enough for that. Get distracted too easily.”

“Is art the exception, then? That requires concentration and focus.”

“It does,” Jeongguk agrees, “but when I’m in that creative space, there isn’t really anywhere else I’d rather be, or anything else that can garner my attention.”

Well...that used to be true. Though ever since Jimin started sitting for him, the man has easily been able to shift his focus away from his projects.

“Is your test soon? The big one you mentioned?”

“Couple weeks,” Jimin answers, and Jeongguk hates that he suddenly appears anxious, both of his hands coming up to run through his hair, pushing the strands back before they slip free, framing his face once more. “I feel nowhere near ready.”

At the softly spoken confession, an idea takes form in his mind, and Jeongguk finds himself speaking the words before he’s even thought it through. 

“If you ever need help studying, or with anything, I’d be happy to do it.”

Jimin gapes at him, uncertainty in his gaze, though there’s also other emotions, resembling that of hope, relief, and gratitude.

“Really? You’d help me study?”

“Of course. You’re helping me with my end of the year project.”

“Yeah, but you’re paying me to do that.”

“You can pay me as well.”

Jimin giggles again, regrettably covering that pretty smile with his hand, though Jeongguk is still able to witness the way his eyes crinkle. 

“Shall I just return the money back to you?”

“I like food. You can pay me with dinner.”

“Dinner, huh?”

“You shouldn’t study on an empty stomach anyways.”

“A reasonable point. You’d be doing me two favors then.”

“I’m glad you see it that way.”

They’re both smiling so wide it’s alarming, Jeongguk’s cheeks starting to hurt from it, and he’s sure they’re seconds away from cracking up. But Jimin sighs then, hands going back to his hair, and Jeongguk questions if it’s a habit of his. 

“Sometimes I wonder why I did this to myself,” he murmurs, though it’s still spoken with a slight influx of deprecating humor. 

“I think you’ll be a great lawyer,” Jeongguk assures with a grin, entirely serious as he tries his hand at offering comfort. 

“I just gotta work on my descriptions,” Jimin chuckles, shaking his head. “Maybe one day, if I become successful enough, I can be your patron.”

“You wanna be my patron?”

“Why not?” Jimin smirks. “We’ll get you your gallery, and everyone can look at your art, but I’ll have a contract with you that allows only me to own the originals.”

“You sound like a villainous art collector.” 

“Ooh, that would be cool. Champion lawyer by day, villainous art collector by night.”

“Would make for a good comic.”

“If there isn't one already.”

Jeongguk nods in agreement, as it’s hard to keep up with everything, for all they know something like that could already exist.

Jimin’s phone buzzes against the tabletop, a slight furrow in his brow when he turns it over to unlock the device, immediately morphing into little hiccuping giggles until he’s full on laughing at what he sees. The effect it has on Jeongguk immediately causes him to break out into a genuine smile of his own.

“What—?”

The older man cuts him off, shaking his head with another chuckle that makes Jeongguk’s nose scrunch up again.

“What?” he tries for a second time, voice laced with mirth. “What’s so funny?”

“Taehyung just sent me a picture.”

Jeongguk smiles through his confusion until it clicks, the photographer’s earlier threat catching up with him.

“I—”

“You’re so cute,” Jimin says through his laughter, turning the screen around as he does so Jeongguk can see the damage. 

His mouth falls open, an incredulous laugh escaping past his lips as he stares at a picture of himself from last summer when both him and Taehyung volunteered at a children’s art program, and though the children had certainly enjoyed the pointers, they were far more entertained by putting Jeongguk’s hair in pigtails and painting his cheeks with the non-toxic paint they had on offer. 

His eyes are bright in the picture, dimples on display as he wears the biggest smile, though it wrinkles the sun painted on his left cheek and the moon on his right.

“I don’t know why he sent this to me,” Jimin admits, amusement still prominent, “but I’m glad he did.” 

He’s turns the phone back around to himself, eyes fixed on the image as if he’s forgotten Jeongguk is right in front of him, and it’s then that his own phone vibrates against his thigh where it rests in his pocket. 

It’s a message from Taehyung, and Jeongguk frowns down at the words, wanting to be annoyed, until he reads them. 

And now he’s just fallen a little bit more in love with you. 

When Jeongguk chances a glance up, Jimin still stares at the picture, something warm and sweet in his gaze while his eyes trace the image, and Jeongguk gets lost in it, feeling a strange, unexplainable hint of jealousy towards himself that Jimin is bestowing a picture with such a soft, open expression, wanting to experience it firsthand. 

It’s bizarre. 

His phone buzzes again, and Jeongguk looks back down at his messages. 

You can thank me later.

“I like your hair,” Jimin grins, once again catching Jeongguk’s attention while he hastily repockets his phone. 

“Really? I wasn’t sure if pigtails suited me.”

“I’d say they do. The body art is top notch as well.”

“The children I was teaching will be happy to hear that,” he beams, breath catching when Jimin’s eyes soften again.

“You were teaching kids?”

“That was taken at a summer art program. It was fun. Chaotic, but fun.”

Jimin smiles sweetly down at the photo once more, and Taehyung’s message runs like a mantra through his head, his heart feeling as if it’s in a vice grip.

“You look really happy.”

“I was,” Jeongguk easily admits. “I found them easier to be around than most people. They were very free-spirited, as you can see, and preferred my face to the canvas, which I assured the chaperones showed a unique, artistic approach.”

Jimin laughs again, finally putting the phone back down on the table. 

“You’re funny,” he beams, gripping the sides of his ribs as if they’re sore, and Jeongguk can’t help but preen. 

He’s always thought he was funny, but not many people share the sentiment. 

“I’m setting that as your contact photo by the way,” Jimin promises with a smile, and Jeongguk exaggerates a pout just to hear him laugh again, unable to help his own grin from overtaking his features. 

They finish their drinks while Jimin goes into what finals he’s preparing for, Jeongguk joining in with the art projects he’s finished and has yet to complete, the two of them lamenting over how hectic everything becomes during the end of a semester. After he manages to sip the last drop of his americano through his straw, Jimin eyes him with a grin. 

“Shall we go back to your place?”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen at the suggestion, mouth puckered into a surprised ‘o.’

“Hmm?”

“So I can sit for the charcoal remake.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. We should go.”

They both stand, Jimin seemingly more at ease than Jeongguk as he motions the older man to go first, watching while he throws his empty drink cup away before doing the same. The fresh air helps to center him, along with the heat of the sun once they make their way outside, the smell of petrichor lingering from the on and off rain. 

The walk is quiet at first, Jeongguk shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants since there’s nothing to keep them busy. Every now and then, Jimin’s shoulder will brush his, and each time it has his heart picking up, while the mild panic makes it hard to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat, and he keeps his gaze on the relative safety of the sidewalk. 

When they arrive at his front door; and once he manages to get it unlocked and open, he’s close enough to hear the surprised gasp that leaves Jimin’s lips. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

The law student shakes his head, eyeing the space from the entryway. 

“It just looks completely different without the curtain hanging up.”

“Oh.” 

Jeongguk looks around the studio himself and can’t help but agree. It does look different, and even he had gotten used to the blue velvet in the time he had it seperating the room.

“I took it down before I left this morning.”

“Looks bigger now,” Jimin hums, slowly coming inside after toeing off his shoes. 

Jeongguk rushes in removing his own boots, stammering in his haste. 

“M-Make yourself comfortable, I’m just going to get things ready.”

His art supplies are already on the side table at his station, the special thick paper he uses attached to the easel. Instead, he moves deeper into the bedroom area, grabbing onto the arm of the chair Jimin posed in that first night, and pulls it back towards his work area, the legs sliding against the hardwood as he positions it where he wants. 

When Jeongguk looks back towards the front of his studio he stills, gaping at the way Jimin sits on his work stool, casual and at ease, attaining a kind of comfortability in his own skin that Jeongguk both envies and admires. 

“You can have a seat,” Jeongguk invites, motioning towards the newly placed chair. 

Jimin seems to spill from the stool, as if made of molten liquid, fluid and graceful in his movements as he relocates to the armchair Jeongguk set up for him, smelling of ambrosia as he passes, Jeongguk inhaling deeply, an unconscious decision on his part, as if his body is already accustomed to it.

Craves it—

“Same pose?”

“Same pose,” Jeongguk strangles out in agreement, fighting the urge to pound his own chest with a fist. “Do you remember or—”

“I remember,” Jimin gently reassures, a half-smile playing at those lush lips.

Jeongguk busies himself with his hair, clipping in the bows Jimin bought him just in case the insufferable strands attempt to make another escape, all the while trying not to focus too closely on the sounds of Jimin getting into position. 

When he turns back around, he’s greeted with a familiar giggle, Jimin’s eyes crescent moons as he openly stares at him. 

“Cute,” he murmurs, motioning to his own hair, and Jeongguk gives a shy smile in return, glancing at the charcoal piece from that first night and comparing it to Jimin’s current pose. 

He steps closer, surveying the two before putting the paper back down and approaching Jimin. 

“May I move you a bit?”

Jimin’s lips part, pretty eyes blinking up at him twice before he swallows and gives a decisive nod. 

“Move away.”

Despite the given permission, Jeongguk finds himself hesitating when he reaches out his hands, taking in a deep breath before carefully guiding Jimin’s head to angle down, fingers framing his small ears, the tips sinking into the unbelievably soft strands of his hair, regretful when his task is done and he slips away. He fixes those same strands of his hair next so that they cover his eye a bit like they did the first time.

 

 

It’s a battle to try and not lose his control over the way Jimin’s eyes seem to flutter at the touch. 

Jeonggguk’s nerves want him to retreat back to the safety of his station, but he forces himself to continue, urging Jimin to lean forward a bit more until he’s curled in on himself. Then his fingers brush against Jimin’s own, his hands together to tug at the rings he wears. He splays them, the space between pronounced, recreating the scene he’s already drawn as close as he’s able. Lastly, he moves his feet further apart with his own, leaning forward so he can reach Jimin’s thighs, and gently coaxes them closed, heart picking up when he hears Jimin’s indrawn breath. 

Quickly he steps back and away, trying to give what he hopes to be a reassuring smile as he mutters, “Perfect,” before moving to the safety of his work station where he dons his stained apron. 

Deep, deep breaths, he tells himself. Deep calming breaths. It’s just another project. Just another beautiful Sunday. 

Jeongguk clears his throat, wincing when it sounds too loud in the quiet of the studio before sitting heavily on his stool, head cast downward as he carefully opens the charcoal powder, but mostly it’s to avoid the gaze of the man from across the way. 

Perusing his palette knives, he grabs the smaller one with the fine point and sets it aside. He would love nothing more than to freehand the piece, especially now that he has Jimin in front of him without the hindrance of a blindfold, but since he did linework the first time, he wants to keep everything as consistent as possible. It’ll take a little more time this way, but he can honestly say that a little more time with Park Jimin is far from a bad thing. 

Picking up a medium-sized charcoal pencil, he takes in another steadying breath and speaks. 

“Are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” Jimin answers, careful not to move out of place, and with the assurance, Jeongguk begins to draw. 

Glancing up from beneath his lashes, Jeongguk starts the painstaking process of recreating Jimin’s visage onto paper, the sound of the fine-point of freshly sharpened charcoal against the thick parchment echoes in the room, his quick, almost frantic movements the center of his attention as he works to get every shape, every angle, perfect. 

Minutes pass. Jeongguk isn't sure how many, but it doesn't feel like too long before Jimin speaks again.

“The difference is getting to me,” he quietly admits, though it still feels sudden in the light of Jeongguk’s hyper-focus. 

“What difference?” he murmurs, carefully curving the line of his jaw. 

“I feel more self-conscious now that I’m in front of you,” he candidly offers, and Jeongguk’s lips turn up in a smile of their own. 

“There’s nothing to be self-conscious about,” he promises, hoping to alleviate that particular worry. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m more concerned with making sure this piece doesn’t turn out terrible than I am about anything else.”

“It doesn’t, but thank you anyways.”

Jeongguk can’t help but snort, moving down to the delicate curve of Jimin’s neck when the law student speaks again. 

“As if your art could ever be terrible," he adds on, instantly bringing another blush to Jeongguk's cheeks.

"You'd be surprised."

"I would. You're far too talented, and humble."

"I don't think I've ever been called humble before," he muses, shaping Jimin's shoulders and torso.

"I’ve never seen you work before," he counters, seeming almost hesitant. "It’s, um...also different.”

“Is it?”

“Mmhmm. You’re very serious. Fixated. And your eyes aren’t so big anymore.”

“Am I frowning,” he absently wonders, wanting to smooth out his brow if so, even as he marks the folds of Jimin’s denim jacket, not stopping in his work. Worry lines aren’t something he aspires to achieve.

“Not frowning, just...intense.”

“Intense?”

“Smoldering.”

“Smoldering?”

“It’s a word,” he defends, “and it best describes what you’re currently doing.”

“I don’t even know how to smolder,” he mutters, lining Jimin’s shirt and knees. 

“Everyone can smolder, it’s like, embedded in our DNA or something.”

“Not mine.”

It’s goes quiet once more before the sound of a ‘click’ reaches his ears. 

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

“I did. Your smolder, to be more precise.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes when he feels his phone vibrate against his thigh. 

“Don’t believe me? See for yourself.”

“I’m in the middle of something, you know?”

He looks up in time to see Jimin smirk and wave at him in encouragement. 

“It won’t take but a moment.”

“Stop moving, or I’ll have to reposition you.”

To his surprise, Jimin looks smug by that not-quite-threat, waving his own phone as if to say check yours.

Realizing it’s not likely he'll let this go, Jeongguk sets the charcoal pencil down with an exaggerated put-out sigh and digs around in his pocket for his phone. Once he opens the text his eyes go wide and his mouth falls open a bit, gaze taking in the picture. 

Alright, so maybe he smolders while he works. No big deal. 

“I have no comment.”

Jimin snickers in the background while Jeongguk puts his phone away and gets back to it, finishing up with the linework before there’s room for any more distractions. 

“I’m moving on to shading now. Do you need a break?”

“Nope. Do you?”

Jeongguk blinks, lips twitching up in a small smile. 

“I’m good.”

“Carry on then, mister artiste.”

Jeongguk picks up the palette knife he picked out earlier and dips it in the charcoal powder, eyeing the paper to determine where he wants to start before just diving in, periodically glancing back up at Jimin to determine the location of the light and shadow. 

“You’re so serious.”

Jeongguk removes the palette knife from the paper, a small laugh escaping despite the interruption, and the blaring fact that; had it been anyone else, he would not be amused. A fact that is not lost on him. 

“You’re going to make me mess up if you don’t stop.”

“If at first you don’t succeed, try try again. I’m free all day,” Jimin answers, as if it’s inconsequential. 

“I don’t have the money to pay you for all day.”

Again, Jimin dismisses the words with a wave of his hands. 

“We’ll call it even.”

“You’re a menace,” he mutters, “now hush, or I’ll point my finger at you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Jeongguk raises his left hand, even as he keeps his focus on the page before him, attempting to hide his smile to no avail while pointing a “stern” finger Jimin’s way, nearly losing it when he gasps.

“I can’t believe you just did that. You’re younger than me!”

“That’s odd, because mentally, you seem to be the younger of the two of us.”

Jimin huffs in offense, and Jeongguk does laugh softly this time, forcing himself to move his hand away from the art so he doesn’t accidentally ruin it while the law student pouts. 

“You’re very sassy.”

“You’re very distracting,” he counters, smoothing out his face as much as he’s able and going back to work. 

“It’s a gift, much like your talent to draw.”

“Definitely a talent you have.”

“It’s only because I feel strange now that I don't have to describe myself to you. Like I should be doing something.”

"It's called being still."

"But not quiet?"

"Hmm?"

"You don't want me to be quiet?"

Jeongguk smiles to himself again, breath rushing out in surprised amusement when he answers.

"I don't."

"Oh really?" Jimin wonders, a sparkle to his eyes, expression somewhat smug.

"Really," Jeongguk replies, not offering any more than that unless Jimin asks for it.

"So you like distractions then?"

Jeongguk's smile widens further, until his cheeks ache with it.

"Of a certain variety."

Jimin seems to grin knowingly, appearing almost amorous, but that could just be wishful thinking on Jeongguk's part.

He watches as Jimin glances away, another blush seeming to spread across the roundness of his cheeks, which are more pronounced from his own growing smile. Jeongguk doesn't draw attention to it, and instead goes back to his project, shading in the lines of Jimin's thighs; which are a work of art all by themselves.

The silence stretches on as he makes progress, and it's far more jarring than the occasional interruptions, though it used to be a necessity before, the quiet essential to his work environment.

 

 

Jeongguk isn't sure if he likes it anymore.

He doesn't have much left to do for the piece, and working with charcoal powder has always been a relatively quick process for him. He's suddenly eager to hear Jimin's voice again before it's over.

“You got awfully quiet,” he notes, gaze still on his work, and out of the corner of his eye he can see the way Jimin shifts. 

“Got distracted myself.”

“By what?”

“You. Watching you draw.”

Jeongguk nearly messes up the shading of Jimin’s jeans, but manages to correct his grip before that can happen. 

“What’s so distracting about watching me draw?”

Jimin’s voice is deeper when he answers. 

“A lot of things. Too many things.”

When he looks back up at the other man, Jimin is smiling. 

“Not gonna tell me?”

They stare at each other for a moment before Jimin shakes his head, smile widening to show off that crooked front tooth, and it’s enough to have a small smile overtaking Jeongguk’s own lips. 

“Fair enough.”

Brushing his palette knife over the paper’s surface, he eyes his work critically, adding a few more sloping sweeps before setting down the tool, deeming it complete. 

A weary sigh leaves him when he sees his hands are covered in charcoal powder, as well as various parts of the stained apron he wears, and refrains from smacking his palms together in an effort to be rid of it. Instead, he makes his way to the sink and washes all the way from the tips of his fingers to his inner elbows before cutting off the tap and grabbing a towel. 

“Wanna come see?”

“You’re finished already?”

“Mmhmm.”

The chair creaks as Jimin stands, though the floorboards are unusually quiet with his graceful movements, the older man light on his feet as he approaches, coming around until he stands directly before the easel. 

 

 

“Oh, wow.”

“What is it?” Jeongguk asks, unable to keep the amusement from his voice at how shocked he sounds. 

“It’s, um, it’s really good," he answers, almost breathless. "I’ve seen quite a bit of your work, but it’s always really well done.”

Slowly, Jeongguk reapproaches, witnessing the way Jimin’s eyes widen as he continues to stare at the finished piece. He grabs the first charcoal attempt along the way, smiling and shaking his head at it. 

“Would you say this one looks a lot more like you?” he wonders, offering the page to Jimin with a grin. 

The older man does a double take and accepts the paper with a laugh, staring down at the picture. 

“You’re an amazing artist,” he says seriously, catching Jeongguk off guard. “And I am so bad at descriptions,” Jimin giggles, continuing to eye the piece. “Is it okay if I take a picture of it?” he wonders, motioning towards the easel with an incline of his chin. 

“Of course,” he easily grants permission, taking back that first charcoal drawing while Jimin pulls out his phone, tucking it safely away in another folder as a couple of clicks ring out in the space.

“No one has ever drawn me before you,” he reveals in a quiet murmur, Jimin seemingly giddy as he continues to take pictures. 

"Lucky me."

Jimin beams at that, still fixated on the paper.

“What do you think?" Jeongguk wonders, wanting to hear more of his opinion. "Did I do okay?”

“Okay? You did more than okay, are you kidding?”

The added praise makes Jeongguk more than a little vertiginous himself, his cheeks tinting pink with the attention as Jimin continues.

“And the ones you did from last night, I can’t even put into words how good they are, truly, they’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, he wants to say, but settles for a quiet, "Thanks, hyung," the only words he can form in the face of such compliments from his admitted crush.

They both stare at the drawing in comfortable silence, until his nerves convince him to fill it. 

“Wait till we get into painting,” Jeongguk says excitedly. “It’ll be a lot more involved.”

“Watercolor next?”

“Watercolor next,” Jeongguk affirms, the other turning towards him. 

Jimin suddenly laughs, and without being able to control it, he finds himself doing the same. 

“What’s so funny?”

“You have charcoal powder all over your face.”

At that information his eyes slide closed with an exaggerated groan and the whispered promise of, “never again,” that he knows he won’t adhere to.

After shaking his head, his expression turns endearing when he meets Jimin’s bright, amused eyes. 

“Where’s it at?”

Instead of telling him, like he expects, Jimin moves forward, his hand already outstretched, and Jeongguk’s breath hitches as he feels the soft pads of Jimin’s fingers gently caress along his jaw and then move over his left cheek.

“Here,” he answers softly. “And here.”

The touch travels along the bridge of his nose, mapping over his cheekbones and circling the outer curve of his eye. 

“Also here.”

The featherlight touch traces near his hairline, and Jeongguk fights to regulate his breathing while curiously, Jimin also seems equally affected, chest nearly heaving with his stuttering exhalations.

The moment feels almost weighted, Jeongguk eagerly searching Jimin's face for the answer to his unspoken question, fingers twitching with the urge to return his touch.

“You wanna go wash it off?” Jimin whispers, the heat of his hand still at his temple.

“I’m just gonna take a shower as soon as you leave. Get the rest of it off from wherever it’s managed to stick itself," he answers just as quietly, afraid to break whatever spell they seem to be under.

But to no avail.

“Right,” Jimin suddenly exclaims, removing his hand, looking and sounding off. Manic, almost. “I can leave you to that. To shower, I mean. You should shower and I should...go.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to leave so fast—”

“No, I’m sure. You know, I have to study and you have to...shower.”

He seems to be having trouble with that particular word.

Jeongguk’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t argue when Jimin makes a quick dash for the door, simply follows behind so that he can see him out. 

“Since we return to classes tomorrow I’ll be around during our usual time,” Jimin rambles out as he tries to rush his way into his shoes. 

“Sounds good,” Jeongguk mutters for lack of anything better to say. “And, uh, I meant it before. If you ever need any help studying, I don’t mind.”

The offer has Jimin slowing, lowering his raised foot back onto the ground now that it is properly situated in his pretty boot. 

“That’s really sweet of you, Jeongguk-ah,” he softly declares, eyes almost swimming in the light of the entryway. “I’ll text you, and we’ll see when our schedules won’t interfere with your project.”

“Okay.”

He gets his other shoe on at a more reasonable pace before looking his way again. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Jimin hyung.”

The door quietly clicks open and closed on his farewell, until Jeongguk is left alone in his studio once more. 

He stares at the familiarity of it, as if his own framed works could offer a suitable explanation for what just happened, only to be disappointed when he's met with silence. 

With a sigh he removes the bows and the tie from his hair, running his fingers through the long strands before moving off to shower, wondering why it seemed to set Jimin off. 

Notes:

Thoughts?

Chapter 7: Watercolor Revisited

Notes:

Sorry for the wait, my excuses are as follows:

-- My white blood cells took a vactation
-- I know too many people with a birthday in May, including me
-- I have no self-control and joined too many fic fests
-- My motivation gave up, but I managed to revive it

So here we are :D

But seriously, thank you for your patience

Jeongguk wants nothing more than to text or even call Jimin, and he hates doing both, which, honestly, speaks to the depth of his feelings; but since the law student’s quick exit the night before, he can't help but think that they left things a bit...awkwardly? 

So he calls Taehyung instead, forgetting that the photography major is still attending his daily classes—unlike him—and is immediately sent to voicemail. So as such, he settles for dialing Seokjin, because he doesn’t know too many people in the grand scheme of things, and trusts even less with his phone number. 

Besides, he has an unfortunate abundance of energy matched only by his anxiety, both of which will not allow him to paint or do, well, much of anything at all until he finds a way to get rid of it. And since talking through his problems has always worked well for him in the past, he decides it’s best if he sticks to that tried and true method.

After three rings, the line connects, Jeongguk’s only clue being a distracted grunt, and what sounds to be a vaguely familiar song playing in the background that he’s sure is from a video game. 

“Hyung?”

“I’m listening, but I’m also trying to get past this level, so I might not answer.”

“Which means you’re not really listening then?”

Jin hums absently, proving that he is; in fact, not paying attention, but Jeongguk can’t really say that he minds. It actually kind of helps him to feel less self-conscious. 

“I don’t mean to bother you, I tried calling Tae but he’s in class.”

At the mention of his other half, Seokjin unsurprisingly tunes back into the conversation. 

“He’s not out till four." There's a pointed pause and then, "Aren’t you supposed to, like, be in class too?”

“I’m sick,” Jeongguk answers, forcing out an altogether unconvincing cough to solidify the excuse before turning the question back on him. “What about you? Don’t you usually have class during this time?”

“It’s performance week at the theater, and I don’t give my monologue until tomorrow.”

“So...you’re ditching?”

“If I’m not performing, I don’t care.”

“Your honesty is refreshing.”

“I find it preferable to claiming I’m sick. You’re a terrible liar, by the way.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Jeongguk listens as it sounds like Jin smashes a series of buttons, cursing under his breath periodically.

“What game are you playing? I recognize the music.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why?” he demands, offended but also amused. 

“The last time I told you what game I was playing you made it your personal mission to not only beat the game first, but to one hundred percent it, just so you could gloat about it to me.”

Jeongguk laughs, suddenly remembering that he actually did do that. 

“The look on your face when I told you was funny.”

 

 

The other end is silent, and Jeongguk can perfectly envision the unimpressed expression that Jin is undoubtedly wearing, likely not finding it funny at all. 

Eyes sliding towards the pipes that run along his ceiling, Jeongguk coughs—for real this time—and presses on. 

“Anyways, I kind of wanted to talk to you—well, Tae, but he’s indisposed—about Jimin.”

“What a shocker.”

“And you don’t really have to say anything. Seriously, I feel like if I can just talk about this out loud, I’ll be able to figure it out for myself.”

“Then what was the point of calling me when you can just talk to yourself in your apartment?”

“Because…I’ll know I’m talking to myself and I’ll feel ridiculous.”

“As opposed to you talking at me while I ignore you?”

“Exactly.”

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyways, back to Jimin. Recently I’ve discovered that I harbor certain feelings for him; as Taehyung may or may not have told you.”

“Oh, he told me.”

“And when I say feelings, it’s like, a connection I can't describe—”

“You’re in love with him.”

Jeongguk chokes on his saliva, a strangled sound escaping past his lips before he regains his faculties, forcing his voice to sound even and neutral when he answers.

“I’m not in love with him.”

“Tae said you were in love with him,” Jin argues, as if his word on the matter is gospel, the button smashing starting up again along with a colorful slew of curses. 

“Taehyung is a liar.”

“Is he?”

“Mmhmm, and he has a certain affinity for over-embellishing.”

“How’s your cough?”

“What cough?”

“Nevermind.”

“Anyways, my feelings for Jimin are serious. But I’m not in love with him,” he rushes to emphasize. “Not yet, at least. I’ve heard these things take time.”

“How much?”

“How much what?”

“How much time do these things take?”

“Oh,” Jeongguk frowns. “Not sure, but I’ll look it up and get back to you.”

Over the line it sounds suspiciously like Jin snorts, but he could also be hissing at his game. 

It’s hard to tell with him.

“As I was saying, I have these feelings for Jimin, and when I asked Taehyung what I should do about it, he suggested I try flirting, so I did; at least I think I did, I’m not very good at it. Jimin seemed receptive—then again he could just be trying to be friendly—”

“You’re overthinking this.”

“All I know how to do is overthink,” he whiningly complains. “And you’re supposed to be ignoring me.”

Jin grunts, but at least he goes back to being quiet. 

“Anyways, last night was going well. I mean, I’m pretty sure it was, but then at the end of the night after showing Jimin the charcoal piece I completed, he kind of ran out of my apartment as fast as he could. I think I made him uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

“Well, because his cheeks were all red and he couldn’t leave fast enough.”

“Yeah, but why? Did you do something? Say something?”

Jeongguk’s eyes narrow, almost squinting as he stares out his window, replaying the previous night in his head. 

“He said I had charcoal all over my face. Asked if I wanted to wash it off.”

“Maybe he despises charcoal even more than you do. Maybe he’s allergic,” Seokjin theorizes, sounding distracted again. 

“Maybe,” Jeongguk agrees, though he actually kind of doubts it. 

“So is that when he ran away? After pointing out that your face was a mess?”

“No, he ran away after I told him I was just gonna take a shower to wash it off. Maybe he thought he was bothering me or something? Maybe he left really quickly so I could take my shower and wash the powder off and—why are you laughing?”

Jin’s cackles echo in Jeongguk’s ear with no signs of stopping, the older man seemingly hysterical as he murmurs between fits. 

“I can’t believe you,” Jin barks, followed by more laughter. “I got a game over because of this,” he wheezes, finishing with, “How could you be so smart and yet so dense?”

Jeongguk’s face steadily morphs into a frown, but even so he feels his bottom lip stick out in a pout.

“Are you gonna stop any time soon, or are you just gonna keep laughing at me?”

“Probably the latter.”

“I hate you. I’m hanging up.”

“Wait!” Jin wheezes out, his amusement still easily discernible, and against his better judgment, Jeongguk stays on the phone and listens. 

“Look,” the older man starts, sounding a lot more calm after taking several deep breaths. “It’s really not that hard to figure out why he ran away when you think about it.”

“But I have thought about it, and I can’t figure it out. That’s why I’m talking to you.”

“Okay, let me put it this way. You said everything was fine, right? The night was going well.”

“Correct.”

“You were flirting, and he was receptive, maybe?”

“Still a bit unsure, but I’m leaning towards yes.”

“Let’s just say he was, but then he told you that you had some shit on your face, right?”

“Not in those exact words, but yes.”

“And your response was that you were just going to shower it off?”

“Something to that effect.”

“Then you said his cheeks turned red right before he rushed out.”

“Yeah, and?”

There’s a weary sigh down the line, while Jeongguk’s brows furrow in further confusion. 

“Jeongguk-ah?”

“Yes?”

“You told Jimin you were going to take a shower, and he got so flushed afterwards he rushed out of your apartment. Is it clicking yet?”

Jeongguk’s lips part as a thought occurs to him, one in which he refused to even humor before. 

“No,” he draws out, disbelief coating his tone. 

“Oh yes.”

“That’s not—he—”

“He was imagining you in the shower. Case closed.”

Jeongguk laughs hollowly.

"Sexual frustration isn't funny, Jeongguk."

“No offense, but I think you’re way off.”

“Why? You don’t think Jimin could fantasize about you? You’re both single. And though you may not be as attractive as I am, you’re not too hard on the eyes. And you’re an artist. People love that shit.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.”

“It just...feels a bit conceited to think that that’s what happened. Maybe he had a stomach ache.”

“I’m sure something was aching last night, but I doubt very much it was his stomach.”

“I’m regretting this call.”

“Regret it all you want, you know I’m right.”

“I don’t know that, no.”

“You’ll never admit it, but you’re gonna be thinking about it later, and you might even have a eureka moment,” he claims, as if it’s something to look forward to. 

“I don’t want to argue with you, but for the record I think you’re completely wrong.”

“Uh-huh,” Jin chuckles, the sound of his game’s music starting up again. “Do with it what you will.”

“Which is nothing, because your assumptions are useless.”

“We’ll see if you’re still singing the same tune tomorrow.”

“I have no plans to call you tomorrow, or ever again after today, so that’s hightly doubtful.”

“Just remember Taehyung tells me everything.”

"Does he tell you about all the colorful nicknames I have for you?"

"Yes, and I'm sorry to say, but boulder shoulders isn't much of an insult."

"Your shoulders are stupid," he grumbles, too petulant to be embarrassed over his childish comeback.

"Not as stupid as you're gonna be if you don't start going back to class," Jin reprimands, sounding serious when he adds, "I know your average, but try and remember that attendance counts as well. Besides, you're worrying Tae."

Jeongguk knows he's right, though he hates admitting it, even to himself. With a sigh of his own, he gives a nod, remembering that Seokjin can’t see him. 

“I’ll go tomorrow,” he promises, the older man humming, clearly satisfied, though it remains to be seen if it’s because of Jeongguk’s easy agreement, or because his game is going well.

°•🎨🖌•°

Jeongguk spends the rest of the day preparing for tonight’s piece, which begins with him going to the hardware store a couple of blocks from his studio where he buys a sheet of plexiglass for cheap, and has one of the workers cut it to the exact dimensions of his window. Then he picks out a few suitable two-by-fours, gets those cut to his specifications also, and then lugs his purchases home.

When he makes it back to the studio, he digs around in one of his cupboards and pulls out an old drill, getting to work on constructing a frame that’ll elevate the glass to the desired height and keep it stable. It’s tedious, but he knew he would have to do this when he first painted the watercolor piece a week ago and decided on a slightly unconventional point of view for the portrait, that being from the outside looking in.

Setting his little project in front of the window seat, he eyes his work critically, nodding in what translates as his own seal of approval on a job well done. 

Or good enough, as it were.

Jimin hasn’t texted him all day. Nor has he called, but Jeongguk chooses to see that as a good thing. After all, he hasn’t canceled, and there is the proverb that claims no news is good news.

Anxiety-inducing, but good news all the same. 

Despite Jin’s claim, Jeongguk does not experience what he calls a “eureka moment.” Instead, the idea seems completely far-fetched the more time goes on, and the more time goes on, the more Jeongguk becomes increasingly nervous when he still hasn’t heard from Jimin, his gaze never leaving the clock as it gets closer to five, and then turns into ten after. 

Jimin’s never been late before. 

Jeongguk gathers his hair and pulls it up into a ponytail, mostly because he has nothing to do and keeping his hands busy helps. Then, he takes a paintbrush and; even though he knows it’s not good for his nails, he uses some left out acrylic in the color Noir to paint them black.    

He’s just blowing on them in an effort to speed up the drying process when there’s a loud, almost frantic knock on the door.

Clumsily, Jeongguk gains his feet but recovers, making it to the entryway in three quick strides before spreading his fingers taut, careful not to ruin his nails as he works to open his front door. 

Jimin stands on the other side, a panting, frazzled mess as he gazes up at Jeongguk’s confused expression with wide, remorseful eyes 

“I’m so sorry,” he says in greeting. “I know I’m late, I didn’t mean to be, but I fell asleep at the library and by the time I woke up I only had five minutes to get here.”

Jeongguk continues to gape at him, rendered quiet by his uncertainty on what to say on the matter as Jimin continues, clearly eager to fill the silence. 

“I wanted to tell you, but sometime after I fell asleep, my phone died,” he mutters, holding the aforementioned phone up as if to prove it, the black screen mirroring Jeongguk’s dumbfounded expression back at him.  

"It's okay," he quickly assures, right before lying through his teeth. "I figured that it must've been something like that. Unforeseen circumstances," he finishes lamely, mentally kicking himself in the shin. "You can still sit for me if you want, unless you need to reschedule—"

"I want you."

Jeongguk's mouth falls open again, lids so wide they ache, while his heart suddenly transforms into a jackrabbit, beating against his ribs in an effort to escape.

All the while a smug voice in his head chants "eureka moment."

"To!" Jimin frantically corrects his slip of the tongue, appearing mortified. "I want to,” he emphasizes. “Sit for you, that is. Sorry, I'm still waking up. I'm fine."

"Oh good," Jeongguk answers, feeling off-footed and maybe a teensy bit disappointed that he got so excited over nothing. “Um, please come in,” he stammers, motioning towards the interior of his apartment, and quickly, Jimin steps into the entryway, beginning the process of removing his shoes while Jeongguk quietly closes the door. 

"Did you paint your nails?" he asks from his kneeled position, working off his boots one by one as he gazes up at his hands.

"Yeah," he admits, eyeing the way the paint has dried patchy in some places. "I contemplated treating my nails like mini canvases, but I wasn’t sure how much time I had, and I didn’t want to go digging out my acrylics, or like, actual nail polish. I could've found some in a different color, but black goes with everything and I had previously forgotten to pack it away, so I guess it worked out."

He’s aware he’s rambling, but he also knows he can’t help it.

"Which color would you pick?" Jimin wonders, a familiar soft expression taking over his features. "If you had a choice."

Jeongguk returns the gentle smile as he answers, "Maybe blue? Like a cyan, or pastel. I like pastels. Or purple,” he exclaims. “One of those would be pretty."

Jimin’s smile widens, the kind that reaches his eyes and makes the corners crinkle charmingly. 

“I think those would look good too. And if they were mini canvases, what would you do?”

The questions combined with Jimin's genuine interest have the contradictory effect of making him feel both flattered and self-conscious, though the mixture causes a strange form of elation. 

The act of being noticed. Perceived.

"Different variations of the sky," he answers immediately, noting the pretty way in which Jimin's smile brings out the sparkle in his eyes, appearing to make them glow, and he suddenly itches for a paintbrush to capture the detail, blurting out, "or people," as he attempts to swallow around the lump in his throat. 

"I think that would be lovely as well," Jimin beams while he regains his feet, and Jeongguk is very cannily reminded of warmth, the older man seeming to embody that particular aura.

For a moment they stand there, smiling at one another while remaining comfortable in their shared silence. But it’s Jeongguk who shakes himself out of it first, realizing that they don’t have an indefinite amount of time until he needs to complete the next piece in the series. 

“We should probably…”

“Right,” Jimin exclaims after he trails off, glancing around until he spots the setup that Jeongguk improvised, eyes widening. “Did you make that?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk answers, though it comes out as more of a snort, slightly sheepish. “Had to try and figure out a way to get you to pose from the vantage point of looking out the window. I thought it would be preferable to asking you to hold your hand up in midair,” he admits feeling slightly unsure of himself, but when he looks up, the return of Jimin’s gentle smile bolsters him. 

“It is very preferable, and very considerate. Thank you.”

Jeongguk blinks, lips parted before he collects himself. 

“You’re welcome, hyung.”

Eyes widening when he remembers something, Jeongguk holds out his hand as he stutters out his offer.

"Did you want me to charge your phone? You said it died before."

"If you don't mind," Jimin murmurs, reaching into his back pocket and passing over the drained mobile into Jeongguk's waiting palm.

"Of course not," he assures, walking towards the back of his apartment where his bedroom and phone charger reside. Quickly, he plugs it in, making sure the button lights up to signify that it's charging before turning back around, just in time to watch as Jimin steps up into the studio. There's a shoulder bag strapped to his chest, one that he grips while his gaze sweeps the room, Jeongguk noting that he only seems to visibly relax once their eyes reconnect. 

Though whether it's a coincidence or not remains to be seen.

“I brought the clothes I was wearing last time, I just have to change into them.”

“Okay,” Jeongguk easily agrees, wanting nothing more than to be reassuring. 

“May I use your bathroom?”

“Right, of course, there’s no curtain anymore.”

Jimin smiles, eyes shining when Jeongguk directs him to the decent-sized sectioned off room towards the back left of his apartment, a deep exhale filling the now-empty space once the door closes softly behind him. Unable to help but experience his own set of nerves, Jeongguk paces the space a bit, careful of his nails as he wipes his palms along the ripped, stained jeans he wears, gray shirt equally stained and mottled with paint. It's old, faded and well-worn, a testament to how loved it is. On the front is a picture of a smiling Bob Ross in the center, standing before a canvas that holds one of his trademark landscapes, and just underneath is a quote: 

There are no mistakes in art, only happy accidents.

Something Jeongguk is an avid believer in.

 

 

Instead of burning a hole in the floor with all of his absent wandering, he decides to make his way to his work station with the intent to pin his hair back with the very same bows Jimin gifted him. Unfortunately, as he goes to grab one, his thumbnail on his right hand bumps against the table’s edge and dents his unprofessional manicure, so Jeongguk brings both hands close to his face and presents his nails easily so he can continue to blow on them in the hopes that they'll dry.

“Nails still wet?”

Jeongguk startles, not hearing the sound of the bathroom door to announce Jimin’s presence, the law student staring at him with a grin. 

When he takes in Jimin's appearance, Jeongguk can't help the sharp inhale of breath he takes, the sound overly loud to his ears while his eyes travel up and down the entirety of him. It's strange to realize that he's painted him in this outfit before, but it's the first time he's actually seeing it.

His small feet are bare of socks.

 

 

It's not the first thing he notices, but it's definitely something that garners his attention, the tiny toes wiggling minutely against the floor, the delicate bones of his ankle disappearing into the hem of the black trousers he wears; which could be described as more formal, though they are form-fitting, the material hugging Jimin’s legs and emphasizing the shape and musculature of his thighs. The green of the shirt; both dark and dramatic, seems to gleam in the light, that particular shade striking when coupled with Jimin’s fair complexion and the dark shade of his hair; which seems to have been quickly, yet effectively, styled, framed around the pretty drop earrings he wears of sparkly cross pendants.

In Jeongguk's brief experience of being able to visibly take in Jimin's appearance, he's one of those gifted people who are gorgeous on any given day, but in his current ensemble he looks nothing less than magnificent.

Green is definitely his color. 

Though he thought the same about blue and red, and in all honesty, Jeongguk wonders if there is any color that would not look flattering on him. After all, Jimin did say he looks good in orange…

Orange.

"Wow," he blurts out before he can think it through. "You look…"

After Jeongguk trails off, due to the simple fact that there isn't really a word that feels as if it could do him justice, Jimin looks down at himself, seeming to take his silence as cause for concern, worry etched into his face that pulls at Jeongguk's heart.

And that just won't do. He knows he needs to put him at ease, even if the truth is a little too revealing.

"You look stunning."

Jimin looks back up at him, pink dusting his cheeks just before his eyes slide away, fingers tucking the longer strands of his hair behind an ear, the hints of a smile turning up the corners of his lips.

"Thank you," he answers softly, though even so, Jeongguk can hear the emotion and sincerity in his voice. 

Another quiet moment passes, and Jeongguk shakes his head when he remembers that he never answered Jimin's question, rendered useless when he laid eyes on him.

"What were you saying before?"

Confusion crosses the older man's features before recognition lights up his eyes.

"I asked if your nails were still wet."

“Oh, yeah,” he answers, keeping his eyes on him as he goes back to gently breathing warm air onto the painted surface. "Not the smartest thing to do before partaking in an activity that requires the use of your hands."

“Need any help with anything?”

“I just wanted to put my bows in,” he admits quietly, Jimin’s smile widening as he fluidly steps forward, shirt catching the light with the barest of movements the same way it catches Jeongguk's attention, as it accentuates the lines of his body just beneath. 

“I can do it for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Hmm?” he wonders, clearly distracted.

“Your bows. I can put them in for you if you don’t mind.”

“Oh. I don’t mind,” Jeongguk responds, though his cheeks heat over his tone of voice, breathy. Labored, almost. 

Jimin moves in closer, discarding his bag as he goes, carefully leaning it near the window seat he'll be posing on. Then he makes his way towards Jeongguk, steps sure, aura confident, and when he reaches him, Jimin gifts him with another smile, picking up the pink bow first and opening it expertly before bringing it to the unruly strands of Jeongguk’s hair. With careful, meticulous motions, he pins back pieces that have escaped the band that holds the majority of it piled high on top of his head, using first one bow, and then two, until finally all three rest against his scalp, and there are no strays to get in his eyes or irritate him while he works. 

“Thank you,” he husks, gaze glued to Jimin as he beams up at him, those plump, pink lips a distraction if ever there was one.

“You’re welcome, Jeongguk-ah.”

Jimin's own eyes seem to flit down as well, perhaps drawn in by the way Jeongguk's teeth sink into his own bottom lip, worrying the skin, or maybe even fixating on the mole just beneath. His musings are cut off, breath leaving him as Jimin's petal pink tongue peeks out, tracing the voluptuous shape of his mouth…

Once again he looks away first, Jin’s mocking laughter ringing out in his head while exclaiming " eureka moment" over and over again, but even still he finds the notion unrealistic. All this is nothing more than a series of coincidences. Instead, he clears his throat and turns away completely, busying himself with the watercolor piece from a week prior, picking it up from the kitchen counter where he placed it earlier after removing the frame from the wall.

“Here’s the one from last time if you can take a look at it. We’ll try to recreate your pose.”

Jimin accepts the framed work, eyes flying over the displayed page as he takes in the positioning of the subject that was based off of his description.

"Strange," he mumbles. "It's me but it's not."

"I suppose that's part of the appeal of the project," Jeongguk answers, even if Jimin wasn't posing a question. 

When their eyes meet, Jeongguk stills, the occurrence becoming common to find himself captivated by him. 

"You're very clever then, to come up with it."

The claim brings forth a nervous laugh from Jeongguk as he scratches the back of his head, cheeks hot.

"Clever seems a stretch. More of a happy accident," he trails off, absently pulling at his shirt in a nervous habit.

Jimin's eyes flick down to it and he chuckles, tugging at the material as well and sending Jeongguk's heart into panicked palpitations.

"And you have taste," he murmurs, smoothing out the shirt and smiling at its graphic before releasing him, turning away and setting the framed piece carefully back down onto the counter.

“Ready?” Jeongguk asks, to which Jimin smiles once more and nods. 

“If you want to have a seat, we can get started.”

Jeongguk watches him go, observing the way he settles on the window seat near the end of his bed, just behind the plexiglass, arranging his limbs to emulate the same position Jeongguk showed him in the last watercolor piece that they did, legs up and bent, hand pressed against the clear surface, head slightly lowered to convey emotion. 

Turning away, he collects a glass of water, then goes back to his station that already houses several pencils, his pallets and the thick paper designated specifically for watercolors. 

Jeongguk takes the opportunity to study Jimin, no longer needing to look at the original piece as he critiques his position. 

“Splay your fingers a bit more for me. Good. Knees pressed further against your chest, arm wrapped tighter around your legs. Lower your lids a bit more. Sadness. Longing. That is what you wanted to portray,” he directs. “That’s it. Perfect.”

Jeongguk picks up one of the many pencils, squinting slightly at Jimin’s positioning once more before gazing at the empty paper before him. 

“I’m going to start sketching you now. Any objections?”

"Objections?" Jimin asks, his downturned expression transforming into something much brighter.

"I'm practicing my lawyer terminology for when I help you study."

That makes Jimin laugh, a light tinkling sound that brings his own joy to the surface.

“You still want to help me study?”

“Of course.”

"Then I have no objections, Jeongguk-ssi," he answers, overly formal and very coy.

Reminding himself to concentrate, Jeongguk begins work on his sketch, starting with the overall shape of the linework, focusing on Jimin’s form before moving onto other aspects, like the bench, and the details of his jewelry. The window he’ll do last. 

When it comes time to recreate the expression, Jimin instead has taken to wearing a smile that seems contagious, even as Jeongguk attempts to scold him. 

“You’re supposed to be sad, remember?”

“I am sad.”

“You’re smiling.”

“Externally. But internally, I am very sad.”

“Perhaps your exterior can make the attempt to match your interior, then.”

“I’m trying.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, but you’re very funny,”

Jeongguk scoffs, attempting to sound offended and failing miserably.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re not not doing anything.”

Jeongguk breaks out into another grin, one which turns into a bashful laugh, shaking his head as if he's fed up, though that's far from the case.

"You're being difficult on purpose," he accuses. "Aren't you?"

"You think so?"

"I do.”

“Have you worked with difficult people in the past?”

“I have, but overall I'm used to directing my subjects and them doing what they're told."

"I can do what I'm told," Jimin murmurs, and it's far too suggestive for Jeongguk to take it as having any innocent connotations.

Eureka moment Jin's voice tries to whisper, but Jeongguk quiets it, attempting to keep the interaction within the parameters of their original discussion in case he's reading things wrong.

"So it's just me you choose to push back at?" He wonders with a grin. "Enjoy flustering me?"

The look Jimin adopts is absolutely breathtaking, and beyond dangerous, the curl of his lips provocative. 

"Do I fluster you, mister artiste?"

Jeongguk doesn't hesitate, even if honesty in this instance will continue to reveal too much of his hand.

"Incessantly."

A moment passes as if frozen in time, Jeongguk’s hand still poised above his paper with the pencil gripped between his fingers as they stare at one another, their gazes nothing short of intense. 

Jeongguk attempts to pull up what remains of his professionalism and smooths out his features.

“Now, be sad, please.”

“I never thought I’d see the day when someone politely asked me to be sad.”

“Manners are important.”

Jimin laughs again, and it’s almost disconcerting when he does listen, the smile falling away, his face becoming more morose as his expression takes on a kind of heavy melancholy that seems to overtake the rest of his body, a look of desperate longing gazing back at Jeongguk, and he has to reign in the urge to bring back his smile and take away the subtle pain that seems to emanate from him.

His pencil moves furiously over paper, instead, eager to capture not only the expression but nuances in the pose, eyes sliding back and forth in quick succession from the sketch to his model. 

Jimin doesn’t speak again until after Jeongguk completes the linework, when he softly declines the offer for a break, though he does stretch while Jeongguk organizes his brushes and readies his pallets, singling out a round brush and sliding it behind his ear. 

“I’ll try to complete what I can of this tonight, but I’m probably going to have to come back to this piece. Don’t worry, though, you’ll only have to sit for this one once,” he remarks, sliding the round brush free and into his glass of water once he’s finished laying out everything he needs.

“Why do you have to come back to it?” Jimin questions, shifting his position slightly until he’s more comfortable on the bench. 

“Sometimes I’ll wait for it to dry before going back in again. Depends.”

Jimin hums in understanding, once again donning his sad expression. 

Jeongguk starts with the background, choosing a deep, pigmented navy color, using less water so the color saturation is more intense. 

It’s almost become the norm by now, working on these pieces with Jimin’s overwhelming presence in the room, though he’s still getting used to looking up and seeing him sitting there rather than a blue velvet curtain, appearing as if he was born from a dream, too exquisite to be real. 

He becomes immersed in the motions of it, completing the background and moving on to the complexion of Jimin’s skin, muting the colors now that everything is being viewed through glass. Carefully, he follows the curves of his lines, adding more water to mute the peachy tones he’s decided on, filling in first his face, then his hands before finishing with the bare feet that rest along the bench. 

The brushes sink into the cup of water, Jeongguk swirling them around until color bleeds from the bristles, the liquid darkening further. Removing them, he wipes them dripping along a dry paper towel, deciding to move onto darker shades that he’ll use for Jimin's hair, eyes, and pants. 

It’s Jeongguk who breaks the silence first, wanting to fill it with the sound of Jimin’s voice as it soothes him even while he works, prompting him to make conversation. 

A rare occurrence he's still getting used to.

“I meant it when I said I want to help you study, you know. I’m not just being flippant.”

“I know you were sincere,” Jimin assures, and when Jeongguk looks up there's that bright spark in his expressive eyes, quickly becoming familiar, a staple as one of the many extraordinary characteristics that make up Park Jimin. “I just didn’t want to interfere with the time you need to complete your projects. I know you're busy.”

“We’ve been doing this consecutively for a week,” Jeongguk reminds him. “I’m far enough ahead of schedule that it wouldn’t set me back if we take a night or two to focus on you.”

The look Jimin gifts him with is one of gratitude, that same spark in his eye seeming to turn watery for the briefest of moments, like the sun appearing to set into the ocean. 

“I would really like that, Jeongguk-ah.”

“We can start tomorrow,” he proposes, Jimin’s eyes widening slightly. "The next piece is digital, so no messy paints or high maintenance canvases. Shouldn't be much of an issue to put it off for a bit."

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” he reaffirms, the two of them sharing another smile, the frequency of which he finds himself doing so causing his cheeks to ache.

“It’s gonna be so boring for you,” Jimin warns, though he appears amused by the prospect. 

“Law and the pursuit of justice is an admirable subject to study, and I’m sure I will remain riveted the entire time.”

“Your optimism is sweet, but I think it’s misplaced.”

“I'm sure you’re just being modest.”

Jimin snorts, unable to hold his laughter in any longer and Jeongguk grins as a result, pleased.

“Can’t wait to see what you’re saying tomorrow.”

The sentence is so similar to what Jin said earlier on the phone that it's almost jarring, filling him with the sensation of deja vu.

“I doubt it’s as tedious as having to hold still and sit for me for hours while I paint you,” Jeongguk counters, surprised but pleased to hear Jimin’s affronted gasp. 

“I’ll have you know I enjoy sitting for you. It’s calming, like, ASMR or something.”

“ASMR,” he repeats, shaking his head in disbelief. “How? I’m not whispering when I talk, and you can barely even hear my paint brushes.”

“Unless you sit for yourself, you wouldn’t understand,” Jimin answers, waving his hand dismissively. “Plus, by the end of it I’ll get to see another work of art that features myself. I feel like a rich aristocrat or something.”

“And that adds to the experience?”

“It does, actually. Much more fun than reciting articles or levels of probation. And I’m the authority on this, since I’ve done both. No arguing.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Jeongguk denies, lips curling upward. 

“You were, don’t lie.”

“Alright, maybe I was,” Jeongguk mutters, though his cheeks hurt once more, his smile a permanent fixture whenever he’s around the other.  

Inevitably, they lapse back into comfortable silence, Jimin seeming to lose himself to the inner workings of his thoughts, while Jeongguk throws himself completely into his work.  

He’s always liked painting in simple details, the differences in the individual strands of hair, lashes or brows. The way light hits the tip of the nose, or the subtle lines of lips, perhaps chapped or glossy. 

Somehow, Jimin’s details are far more intriguing. The way the slowly setting sun plays with the color of his eyes, freckles barely visible. How his cross pendant earrings seem to continuously sway, even as Jimin tries to remain still. Everything from the way the clothes he wears fits, or likewise hangs off of his body, to the way his skin seems to flush intermittently, causing Jeongguk to wonder what it is he’s thinking about. 

It’s almost consuming, in a manner, how Jeongguk drinks him in, captures his form like a picture in his mind. One he attempts to recreate over and over again, be it on the surface of paper, or any other such medium, even if it’s futile to try, as if he could take something so splendid and alive, and reduce it to a two-dimensional image. 

And he knows…he knows that even if he is successful in duplicating the man’s likeness to perfection, it would still fall short. Jimin isn’t meant for frames, or glass displays. He’s meant to be enjoyed in dimensions and senses, something tangible. It’s both thrilling and maddening to know that Jeongguk will never do him justice. 

“You look troubled,” Jimin observes, and despite himself, the corner of his lips tick up again. 

"Troubled?"

"Pensive," Jimin corrects before they both snort.

"You look like something's bothering you."

“It is. How very astute of you to notice,” he grins, amused by their almost flowery vocabulary.

“May I ask why?”

The question brings forth a sigh, his brush moving safely away from the paper while his gaze drops down in an attempt to gather his thoughts, needing to do so in order to accurately explain where his head is at. 

“Have you ever seen something beautiful—like the ocean, or maybe old architecture, or the moon at night—and wanted to immortalize it?”

“Of course, isn’t that why cameras were invented?”

“Exactly. But do you ever get disappointed, because no matter how many times you take a picture of it, from any angle, it’s just...lacking? A photograph of the ocean will never be able to encapsulate the entire essence of the ocean in person. It’s an experience made up of characteristics that pictures can’t compete with. The sound of the waves. The smell of sea-salt. The feel of the sand beneath your feet. It might be able to invoke memories or past experiences, but a painting of the ocean will never measure up to the real thing.”

When Jeongguk’s eyes slide back up, Jimin is staring at him with a deep intensity that Jeongguk likens to a flame, and he is the moth. 

“Am I the ocean in this analogy, or are you speaking more in general?”

He can appreciate the bluntness, and more so the way Jimin’s eyes meet his, unwavering and endless in their stare.

Jeongguk doesn’t answer for a moment, almost afraid to, but something inside of him wants to see how far he can go. How much he can say without actually saying anything.

He wants to offer the truth, and see what Jimin chooses to do with it. 

“You’re the ocean.”

It’s a simple reply, even if in actuality it’s anything but simple. Keeping his gaze locked on Jimin, he continues. 

“And the reason I’m pensive is because I’m realizing that no matter how effectively I’m able to recreate your likeness, and no matter which medium I use, it’s never going to hold up to you. ”

Jimin inhales, a deep, stuttering thing, and Jeongguk fancies he can see the way his Adam’s apple quivers, the rest of his body following suit. 

His reply to the truth on offer is surprising, for instead of being embarrassed, confused, or put off, he’s empathetic.   

“That must be hard to come to terms with, as an artist.”

 

 

“It’s maddening,” Jeongguk admits quietly, watching the way Jimin’s tongue traces his bottom lip again, likely dry and irritated from the way he keeps sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh. 

"Maybe this is what artists mean when they say they have found a muse. The neverending inspiration and drive to create, desperate to capture their subjects, because they know that it's futile, but they keep trying anyways."

"Have you ever had a muse?" Jimin wonders, sounding husky to Jeongguk's ears.

"Not in the traditional sense. There are rare times when something sparks my interest, but nothing exclusive."

"And now?"

"Now…I think that has changed."

Jimin blinks, hearing what Jeongguk is admitting without having to speak the words, and in an instant his features soften, a-hard-to-place emotion shining back at him in his eyes.

 

 

There isn’t really much to say after that, Jeongguk becoming quiet in the wake of revealing too much, and Jimin likely taking on the same disposition as he muddles over everything Jeongguk revealed. 

Going back to the painting, it’s hard not to feel numb. Almost as if Jeongguk is watching someone else commit the act, fingers gripping the paintbrush in a loose hold, swirling the bristles in murky water before consulting his pallet, settling on a soft, mint-green color for the shirt, rather than emerald, muting it through the “window glass.”

It’s an awkward night, not necessarily in a bad way, but the remainder of it is spent almost completely devoid of conversation or sound. Even so, it’s not something Jeongguk finds himself wanting to actively change, as the silence in the wake of such things feels almost natural. 

He finishes up everything he wants to do for the night on this particular piece, deciding he’ll come back to it later and see how he feels. Wiping off the water from his brush, Jeongguk sets everything down and clears his throat. 

“Do you want to come look?”

Jimin answers by gracefully gaining his feet, small toes pressing against the wood, pointed like a dancer’s as he glides over. 

“Oh wow,” he breathes, staring at the painting, eyes roaming it from corner to corner. “It’s gorgeous.”

Jeongguk agrees, but the subject of his gaze is the one who deserves the compliments and praise, rather than any artwork, but he keeps such opinions to himself. Instead, Jeongguk leaves Jimin to quietly admire his work, and goes to collect his phone where it rests on his nightstand. 

“Here,” he offers, holding it out to the older man as he approaches. “It’s completely charged.”

“Thank you,” Jimin murmurs in gratitude, accepting the mobile and turning it on. “Sorry again for being late.”

Jeongguk waves the apology away with a gentle smile, his gaze once more taking in the painting. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,'' he assures, frowning as he hesitates, the previous night's incident coming to mind, and he can't help but bring it up.

"You uh, you left kind of in a hurry yesterday. Was everything okay?"

Jimin's eyes widen, clearly taken aback, as if he never expected Jeongguk to broach the topic.

"I'm sorry about that as well. I was…sick."

"Sick?"

"Yeah, one of those noncontagious twenty-four hour stomach bug things."

"Right," Jeongguk draws, observing the obvious way in which Jimin gulps as he fiddles with his fingers, his eyes unable to meet his, or settle on a particular point for that matter, and Jeongguk can't help but be suspicious. 

Is this what he looks like when he uses the same excuse?

Turning away, he decides not to press, and instead dumps the murky cup of water he used to rinse his brushes down the sink, watching as it swirls into the drain. When he turns back around, Jimin appears to be pulling up something on his phone, and Jeongguk assumes he’s making arrangements for a car to come pick him up.

Barely a moment later, though, he feels his phone vibrate against his thigh, brows furrowing in a frown. 

“That’s me,” Jimin reveals. “Just texted you my address. If it’s still okay, we can get together tomorrow to study, maybe? Same time?”

“I’ll be there,” Jeongguk promises, his tone of voice likely far too intense than what it warrants. 

They walk as one towards the entryway, Jeongguk standing by as he watches Jimin slip his boots back on. 

“I’m heading home,” he tells him, an endeared smile overtaking his lips. “Still got some studying to do. What about you Jeongguk-ah? Are you gonna keep working on the painting?”

Jeongguk opens his mouth, almost immediately answering in the affirmative, but something stops him. 

Seokjin’s voice to be more precise, once again interjecting uninvited and insistent, but this time he just shakes his head and decides to go along with it. 

“Think I might go to sleep early. Take a shower,” he says pointedly, eyes searching for any change in expression. “Help relax my muscles, loosen me up.”

The effect is almost instantaneous, Jimin’s cheeks practically burning red, eyes widening comically while he visibly swallows. 

Jeongguk doesn’t quite take in the words he stutters out as he stammers through a perfunctory goodbye, seeming to fly out the door as if his feet are on fire, and it’s only after it slams closed that Jeongguk’s brows crease, the realization he comes to is almost at his expense, Seokjin’s voice practically crowing in victory. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes flying back and forth as he takes in the facts. 

Jimin ran away after he mentioned showering. Jimin ran away blushing after he mentioned showering, and it’s almost like Jin is in his apartment, gloating, as Jeongguk has what can only be described as a eureka moment. 

  

 

Notes:

Thoughts?

Chapter 8: Intermission : Study Session

Notes:

This chapter wasn't part of my outline and just kind of, came into existence and demanded to be added, so here we are :D

 

 

It's late, Jeongguk knows it is, but he can't sit on this till tomorrow.

He’s supposed to be resuming his classes first thing in the morning and on into the afternoon, which is going to take up so much of his time, thinking about it actually makes him sad...

Fuck.

It's not like he can't go back on his word and ditch for one more day though, hypothetically speaking. After all, he did say he wouldn't do this again, and Seokjin is very kind to point that out to him as soon as the line connects.

"Thought you said you weren't gonna call me again, ever," he mutters, Jeongguk's ears picking up the sound of Taehyung's mellow voice in the background.

"Who wasn't gonna call you again ever?"

"Jeongguk."

A pointed pause.

"Why is he calling you and not me ?"

Jin makes an absent non-commital noise, and then the sound of fumbling can be heard.

"Give me this."

"No, stop being jealous, he's my friend now."

"You're ridiculous. Put it on speaker."

There's a shift in pitch and volume, and then Taehyung's voice comes through more clearly this time.

"Hey, Jeongguk-ah, why are you calling my boyfriend and not calling me?"

He sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose while squeezing his eyes shut, feeling the beginnings of a headache start to form.

"I tried calling you earlier but you were in class so I called Jin, and now for the sake of coming full circle I have decided to go against my better judgment in order to finish our earlier conversation."

There's another pause on the other end of the line before Taehyung murmurs, "oh."

"But you said you'd never call again," Jin interjects; his second reminder, and Jeongguk already wants to hang up the phone, which he would , if he knew they wouldn't just call him back repeatedly until he either answered or they tired of doing so.

"Yes, well, you pointed out earlier that I'm a terrible liar."

"You really are," Taehyung agrees, sounding somewhat disappointed in him.

"Also, I have an answer for your earlier question, Jin hyung. The internet says it takes around eighty-eight days."

Seokjin doesn't seem to know what he's talking about, and his next words prove it.

"Eighty-eight days to what?"

"Fall in love," Jeongguk answers, surprised he forgot already. "During our earlier phone call I told you falling in love takes time, then you asked how much time, and I—"

"Right," Jin interrupts, before quickly changing the subject. "So," and just by his tone Jeongguk already knows what's coming. "Did you have your eureka moment?"

Again, he's so tempted to hang up that he has to sink his teeth into his lip to physically stop himself from doing so, and somewhere between what feels like clarity and insanity, decides to just admit it.

"I may have had a small—miniscule really—eureka moment," he reveals, flinching when Jin's cackles ring harshly in his ear, both smug and hysterical.

There'll be no living with him after this.

“You have to tell me everything,” the drama major wheezes, and his happiness grates on Jeongguk’s nerves, so instead of answering he opts to deflect, just a bit. 

“Don’t you think we should explain to Taehyung what—”

“Is this about the shower thing?” Taehyung pipes up, and Jeongguk only just manages to hold back a sigh. 

“I see you filled him in already.”

Jin merely hums again before; quite impatiently, urging him to get on with it. 

“Come on, I wanna hear about your eureka moment.”

“Simple,” Jeongguk mutters, “I conducted an experiment based off of your hypothesis and recreated the conditions of the first incident in order to cement it as a theory.”

The line is silent, and that deeply satisfies him more than it probably should. 

Seokjin breaks it first. 

“How do you put up with him?”

Jeongguk can only assume he’s addressing Taehyung, and is proven right when he responds. 

“His spontaneity keeps me young.”

“Yeah, well it’s giving me wrinkles.”

“That’s because of your age, hyung,” Jeongguk retorts, snorting when he hears Jin’s faux-offended gasp.

“Don’t be a brat or I’ll hang up.”

That's promising, but it’s said in such a familiar way that it’s accompanied with a visual of Seokjin pointing a very stern finger at him, and Jeongguk decides to listen for once. 

He did call them , after all.

“I brought it up again,” Jeongguk reveals in a bored tone, inspecting his paint streaked nails before elaborating. “I mentioned taking another shower and watched for his reaction.”

“And?” Taehyung questions.

“Same thing as last time.”

“What did I tell you,” Jin brags, sounding far too pleased with himself, and Jeongguk decides not to acknowledge his gloating. 

“So it’s very plausible that Park Jimin finds me physically attractive?”

Jin chuckles. 

“Unbelievable, right?”

“Shush,” Taehyung chastises, and Jeongguk hears what sounds like Seokjin grumbling before Tae continues. “Aren’t you happy about that?”

“Of course I am,” Jeongguk exclaims. “I mean...I feel kind of nauseas, to be honest, but in a good way, if that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t.”

“And I’m kind of terrified. Pretty sure this information is just going to make everything worse for me, awkward wise.”

“Ignorance is bliss,” Jin sagely agrees, and he hears another quiet reprimand from Taehyung. 

“For once,” the photographer starts, sounding world-weary, “you just need to not overthink everything. 

“You’re boy toy said the same thing earlier.”

“Hey—”

“Well, he’s not wrong—I mean about the overthinking thing, not the boy toy thing, babe.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes at the two before continuing as if they hadn’t said anything.

“And I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. All I know how to do is overthink.”

“And art,” Seokjin supplies, uncharacteristically helpful. 

“Right, thank you. I overthink and art.”

“Tragic.”

Taehyung scoffs and then complains, “Sometimes I feel like you two are actually related.”

“Ew,” Jin huffs at the exact same time Jeongguk says, “Ugh.”

Taehyung makes another irritated noise under his breath but gets them back on topic. 

“Now that you’re aware he’s attracted to you, maybe you can try and make a move.”

“Make a move ?”

“Yeah, like...let him know about your interest. But subtly.”

“How?”

“Compliment his ass,” Seokjin suggests. 

“Don’t do that, what is wrong with you,” Taehyung hisses, that last part directed at his boyfriend.

“What?”

“A bit of tact might be in order, don’t you think?”

“It’s Jeongguk,” Jin argues. “He has no tact.”

“Hey.”

“Not to mention they’ll be retiring by the time he works up the courage to tell Jimin.”

“I resent that.”

“The truth is often difficult to hear.”

“It’s not hard,” Tae says encouragingly, trying to be supportive. “He’s coming to your place tomorrow, so why don’t you—”

“He’s not,” Jeongguk interrupts. 

“Huh?”

“He’s not coming to my place tomorrow. I’m going to his place to help him study.”

“You’re going to Jimin’s apartment?”

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk’s brow furrows when Seokjin is once again set off, his laughter practically echoing in his studio despite the fact that his phone isn’t on speaker.”

“I fail to see what’s funny about that.”

“Of course you do,” Seokjin giggles through his words. “You’ve never met his roommates before.”

“Room...mates?”

“Mmhmm.”

“As in plural?”

“Yup.”

“What’s wrong with his roommates?”

“Nothing,” Taehyung rushes to reassure, except he’s cut off by Seokjin’s raucous amusement.

“ Nothing, ” he snorts, as if Tae made a joke.

“They’re just a little...protective of Jimin.”

“ A little ,” Jin repeats, clearly still amused. "You mean overprotective ."

“That’s not bad,” Jeongguk defends, a small frown taking over his expression. “It’s good he has people that care about him.”

“Poor thing has no idea.”

“It is a good thing,” Taehyung agrees over Jin, only he’s the one who sounds hesitant this time. “Just, don’t take anything personally.”

“What do you mean? Take what personally?”

“Nothing. I mean, nothing bad, it’s just...Jimin is a really private person,” he tentatively explains. “He doesn’t really invite anyone into his space unless he likes them.”

“Oh, well. That’s a good sign for me, then, right?”

“Wrong,” Jin mutters. 

“Look, it’s not my place to go into the details of Jimin's personal life, so without saying too much, he's had some pretty shitty relationships in the past, that’s why he doesn’t just invite anyone over, and if he’s letting you in, be prepared to walk into an interrogation from his roommates.”

"But I'm just helping him study," Jeongguk answers in disbelief.

"Ooh," Seokjin drawls out, as if it's the wrong thing to say. "Don't tell them that."

"What do you mean?"

Taehyung takes over answering.

"It might seem like you're trying to keep your relationship platonic."

"You're saying I should tell them I like Jimin before I even tell Jimin ?"

"Don't tell them, tell them ," Jin denies, as if he can't fathom why he has to explain this, or why it isn’t obvious.

"Just kind of…hint at it," Tae concludes.

"Hint at it?"

"Yeah, like, talk about what you think of Jimin. How amazing he is, you know?"

"Compliment his ass— ow ."

"Just…say nice things," Taehyung reiterates, ignoring Jin.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath. 

"I can do that. I can definitely do that."

"Good luck to you," Seokjin replies while Taehyung tries to wave away his reservations.

"You definitely can. It'll be fine. You're very easy to read. They'll be able to tell you're genuine and stuff."

"Right. What could go wrong?"

Once again, Jin's laughter echoes down the line, and it feels an awful lot like an omen.

°•🎨🖌•°

Even after attending every last one of his classes and receiving a number of "concerned conversations" from his teachers that ultimately wrangle promises out of him to put more of an effort into showing up, five o'clock comes way too fast.

Jimin’s apartment is located within walking distance of the university and Jeongguk’s own studio, and he's actually passed it before on the way to the convenience store. It's located on the third floor of the complex, and Jeongguk spends the short elevator ride up with his eyes bulging because he suddenly can’t swallow, while every attempt to do so is met with an embarrassing noise that seems to emanate from the back of his throat. He’s still trying when he arrives on the third floor, and that is how he ends up scaring an elderly woman who waits just on the other side. 

Not his finest moment.

Stuttering out rushed apologies, Jeongguk bows his head and makes a beeline for the corridor, searching every door number until he finds the one emblazoned on a plaque that states 310. 

And then he sort of just stands there. 

If he didn’t want to look suspicious, this is definitely not the way to go about it, but Jeongguk can’t help himself, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt. He can’t remember the last time he was this nervous. 

Well, he can , actually, since Jimin seems to make him nervous on a daily basis, but he’s always been able to deal with such things in the comfort of his own home. Now, though...now he’s out of his element. 

“Are you psychic?”

Jeongguk jumps, hissing when his teeth bite his lip too hard, stinging with the sensation of a newly formed cut. He didn’t expect to hear; let alone see, someone standing right next to him.

“What? No,” he quickly answers once registering the question. “I mean, not that I know of. Why do you ask?”

The man; who Jeongguk notes has what he can only describe to himself as a powerful aura, fluffy black hair on the longer side as well as a remarkable beauty to his feline features, shrugs almost apathetically. 

“You’ve been staring at the door for a while now like you can ring the bell without touching it.”

“Oh, yeah. Nerves. I’m...I’m working up to it,” he admits, the stranger not seeming put off by his honesty, and instead gives a reassuring nod. 

“Take your time.”

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says with a reflexive bow, turning back to the door before his eyes widen again. 

“Do you...do you live here?”

“I do, but no rush.”

Jeongguk’s cheeks flare red, and he’s pretty sure he’s gawking, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, beyond mortified.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, stepping aside so he’s no longer in the way and motioning the other man forward. “I didn’t mean to—”

The mysterious stranger waves off his concern; though not unkindly, and Jeongguk is sure he’s never met someone before that gives off such a calming effect while also simultaniously seeming; well, really fucking cool. 

“Min Yoongi,” he introduces, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he waits. 

“Jeon Jeongguk.”

“I figured. Heard a lot about you,” he explains, and Jeongguk’s nerves skyrocket again when he remembers the conversation he had with both Taehyung and Seokjin yesterday. 

“All good things, I hope,” he murmurs, so obviously anxious and awkward it’s embarrassing. 

Min Yoongi gives a half-smile, revealing a hint of teeth and gums but otherwise not answering, expression quick to revert back. 

“Do you wanna come in now, or would you prefer to wait out here a bit longer?”

Jeongguk swallows, finally able to do so before motioning towards the entrance. 

“N-Now’s good.”

Min Yoongi punches in the code for the door before swinging it open and leading him inside. They both remove their shoes in the entryway, and then Jeongguk watches as the man hangs his bag up in the closet before turning back to face him again.

“Can I take your coat?”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen slightly before nodding, quickly removing it and handing it to the other. The entire day the sky appeared as if it threatened rain, so he made sure to throw on something a little warmer before leaving his studio, glad that he did when it started to sprinkle as soon as he arrived. 

“Thank you.”

Yoongi nods, moving further into the apartment at a leisurely pace with Jeongguk following. When they enter the living room, there’s another man sitting on the couch with his back to them. Jeongguk watches as he tilts his head over the cushion, a bright smile taking over his features when he spots Yoongi. 

“Welcome home.”

His eyes flit towards Jeongguk, smile slightly dimming before speaking to Yoongi again, quieter this time. 

“Is this—”

“Yup. Found him out in the hall. Decided to bring him in with me.”

“Selfless of you,” the stranger murmurs before gracefully rising from the couch and coming around to face them. 

He's handsome, almost shockingly so, with defined features that make it hard to focus, and Jeongguk isn't sure where to look, ending up stuck on his heart shaped mouth when he speaks again. 

“I’m Jung Hoseok,” he introduces, nodding when Jeongguk gives his name in return. “Jimin tells us you’re an artist.”

“I am,” he answers quickly, trying not to fiddle with his fingers too much.

“What’s your major?”

“Fine arts, with a minor in visual arts.”

Hoseok looks only partially impressed while Yoongi looks...kinda bored. 

“And...you?” he asks, not wanting to be rude. 

“Dance and arts administration,” Hoseok answers before motioning for Yoongi to do the same. 

“Musical theory and composition, as well as industry.”

Jeongguk nods enthusiastically, not sure what to say after that, and tries not to cringe when he settles on, “Nice.”

There’s a somewhat noticeable pause before Hoseok breaks the silence. 

“So, you’re doing that art project with Jimin as a model, right?”

“Yeah,” he answers, running his fingers through the hair at the back of his head, long and loose for once. “End of the year project, so it’s pretty involved.”

“Jimin seems to be enjoying himself,” Hoseok returns, and this is beginning to feel like a volley in a tennis game, one where he's struggling to hit his returns.

“I am as well,” Jeongguk admits. “He’s very easy to work with.”

“Easy? How so?” 

Taken aback, Jeongguk attempts to clarify. 

“His input and ideas have greatly influenced the course of my project for the better. He’s amazing about having to sit in poses for long periods of time, great communicator and has honestly made this one of the best experiences I’ve had when working with someone. I was very lucky the day my friend put me in touch with him.”

It’s hard not to feel stiff, like he’s giving a job interview or something. 

 

 

“Kim Taehyung, right?” Hoseok asks, and though he seems to be searching for more than just common answers, Jeongguk is starting to wonder if he should be more unnerved by the way Yoongi inturn quietly continues to stare at him. 

“Correct,” Jeongguk responds, somewhat uncertain. “I guess both Jimin and I have been friends with him for years but never met before.”

“Wonder why that is.”

Jeongguk’s head turns sharply when Yoongi makes a clicking noise with his tongue, turning back to see Hoseok give him a wry smile. He’s sure they don’t expect him to answer, but decides to anyway, somewhat satisfied by their caught expression. 

“I’m kind of socially awkward, if you haven’t noticed already,” he starts, amused even if he’s being what could be considered as self-deprecating. “And I’m a bit of a homebody as well as fixated on art, so I don't have the opportunity to meet a lot of new people.”

He ends the explanation with a shrug, the other two blinking at him and appearing slightly chagrined before changing the subject.

"So you're helping Jimin study for the bar?"

"Yeah, he's helped me so much, I wanted to help him too."

"And that's important to you," Yoongi wonders. "Give and take?"

"Of course," Jeongguk replies before Hoseok poses his own question.

"Usually Jimin studies at the library, yet now he's decided to do it here. Know why that is?"

"I thought he just wanted an environment where he'd be the most comfortable. I'm not really sure, I left the decision up to him."

They gaze at him as if assessing his answer before a loud crash is heard from somewhere in the apartment. 

Jeongguk’s concern is slightly mitigated when Hoseok sighs, seeming to already know the cause before excusing himself. 

“Jimin is just...tidying up. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, but Hoseok is pretty fast on his feet, disappearing down a hall to their right.

“Drink?” Yoongi offers.

“Hmm? Oh, no. I’m okay, thank you.”

He makes his way into the kitchen, pulling a glass tumbler from one of the upper cupboards and pouring himself what Jeongguk can only assume is whiskey before coming back into the living room. 

“You can sit down, you know. Might take a while.”

“Oh.”

Jeongguk nearly stumbles on his way to take a seat, pulling at the hem of his shirt as he does so. 

“Is everything okay?”

Yoongi nods, sitting next to him but at a comfortable distance so it’s easier for them to make eye contact. 

“His room was a mess,” he candidly admits. “The upcoming test he has to take doesn’t leave much room for anything else besides studying.” 

Jeongguk nods in an attempt to show his understanding, watching as the other man  brings the glass to his lips to take a drink. 

“And sitting for your project, of course,” he adds against the lip of the tumbler.

It’s not an accusation, but Jeongguk feels like he’s guilty of something, even after seeing Yoongi’s small, coy smile. 

“I like your shirt,” the music major suddenly compliments, motioning towards his top with his glass after taking a sip, and Jeongguk looks down, admiring the ancient artwork separated into panels on the material, unable to help but be reminded of all the times Jimin has bestowed the same praise.

“Thank you,” he says again, desperate not to come off as rude. 

“Is that the mountain spirit Sanshin and the Dragon king?”

Jeongguk’s eyes go wide.

“It is. How did you—”

“Our other roommate is really into art. I went with him to an exhibit not that long ago that featured a lot of Chaekgeori pieces.”

Jeongguk is more than pleasantly surprised, excitement thrumming through him, along with the comfort of talking about something he genuinely loves. 

“I actually went to that same exhibit.”

“Did you? Maybe we passed each other and didn’t even notice.”

“Maybe. Your other roommate, is he an artist as well?”

“Oh no, Namjoon prefers to appreciate art rather than participate in the creation of it. He’s a frequenter of galleries.”

“We have that last part in common,” Jeongguk says with a grin, and Yoongi takes another drink of his whiskey before responding. 

“He’s not here now, but might return a bit later. If you’re still here he’ll want to meet you.”

Swallowing down his nerves, Jeongguk tries to show an excited smile at the prospect and hopes he doesn’t fail miserably. 

“You sure you don’t want a drink? Might help.”

And just like that, Jeongguk knows Yoongi can see right through him. 

“I’m not much of a whiskey person.”

“It’s actually better for you compared to other alcohol,” he comments, swirling the drink around.

“How so?”

“It reduces the chance of blood clots, heart attack, and stroke. It also has antioxidants that prevent cholesterol from building up. And that’s just a small list.”

“You mean there’s more?”

Yoongi shifts, getting more comfortable on the couch before he elaborates. 

°•🎨🖌•°

By the time both Hoseok and Jimin emerge, Jeongguk is sitting on the edge of his seat, fascinated with every fact Min Yoongi imparts on him. As soon as he notices Jimin, he rushes to gain his feet, the law student looking slightly disheveled and none-too-pleased with Hoseok. 

“You could’ve told me he was here.”

Hoseok lips pucker in their own form of an apology, walking over to Yoongi and collapsing down next to him close enough to practically be in his lap, and Yoongi in turn wraps the arm around his waist that isn’t currently still holding his whiskey, making Jeongguk wonder if there's more to their relationship or if they're just really close. 

Jimin sighs, once again captivating all of Jeongguk's attention. He thinks he looks beautiful, dressed casually in form fitting black pants and a loose white T-shirt, full lips slightly glistening in the light and his long hair appearing windswept.

He's more than beautiful, words unable to do him justice, and Jeongguk longs to tell him as much, but his mouth remains shut tight.

“Sorry about that,” Jimin directs at him this time with the utmost sincerity, shaking Jeongguk out of his musings. 

“It’s okay,” he immediately reassures, relaxing when he’s awarded with one of Jimin’s sweet eye smiles.

Slowly, the older man approaches, appearing as if he's about to speak again, his expression seeming to become filled with slight trepidation when Yoongi beats him to it and poses a question of his own.

“So, you two are just going to be studying together, huh?”

“No, I’m going to be studying, Jeongguk-ah is going to help and quiz me.”

“How very helpful of him,” Hoseok responds, meeting Jeongguk’s eyes head on and prompting him to feel as if he has to answer. 

“Like I said, Jimin helps me everyday with my art project, I wanted to help him as well.”

“Jimin?” Yoongi hums, though there’s a curious edge to it, and Jeongguk realizes his mistake. 

“Hyung. Jimin hyung. ”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Hoseok once again compliments, but despite the words, his tone slightly falls short. “So, would it be fair to say that you agree if someone who cares about you invests time in you, you would invest time in them?”

“Yes of course—”

“Okay, that's enough,” Jimin interjects, shooting the two a pointed look before interlacing his fingers with Jeongguk’s. “We’ll be in my room, try not to disturb us, please.”

“Just remember these walls are paper thin,” Yoongi warns before downing the rest of his drink without a flinch.

“Thanks to you two, I’m well aware,” Jimin mutters, pulling on Jeongguk’s lax hand and rushing them away. 

He doesn’t stop until Jeongguk is practically shoved inside a room, the door slammed shut behind them and Jimin leaned up against the surface as if fearing they’re being chased. 

“I am so sorry,” he murmurs, appearing contrite. “I didn’t hear the bell, so I didn't even know you were here."

"Yoongi-ssi let me in," he informs, and Jimin's shoulders seem to sag.

"Were you waiting long?”

“Not long,” Jeongguk reassures, wanting to put him at ease. 

“They didn’t...say anything... off-putting, did they?” Jimin asks tentatively, appearing anxious by the prospect.

“Um, not really, no.”

“Oh good.”

“Yoongi-ssi seems to know a lot of interesting things.”

Jimin's expression falls.

“Why? I mean, he does, but, what did he say?”

“He knew some about art and...we had an in depth conversation about whiskey.”

Jimin laughs lightly, appearing relieved, the sound bringing a smile to Jeongguk’s own lips. 

“He knows a lot about everything,” the law student reveals, clearly amused as he shakes his head and pulls away from the door. 

When he gets close, Jeongguk notices the furrow in his brow, clear concern crossing his features. 

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm? I’m fine, why?”

Instead of answering, Jimin reaches out, fingers a barely-there touch along his jaw before the soft pad of his thumb makes contact with his bottom lip. 

Jeongguk hisses, the small sharp pain taking him by surprise. 

“Your lip is split,” Jimin whispers, his eyes fixated on the spot. 

Jeongguk is quiet, unable to think for several seconds before he remembers. 

“I bit it earlier. It's okay, though. M’fine,” he reassures, but the air feels heavy and electric all at once, Jimin still staring at the minor tear, fingers continuously dancing along his skin…

Until he snatches his hand back, the prettiest shade of pink dusting his cheeks while his eyes search the floor, coughing awkwardly and stepping away, and Jeongguk is left to stand there, wondering what just transpired.

He takes the opportunity to finally look around the room, endlessly fascinated by this glimpse into the older man’s life, from the figurines he collects, to the small cluttered; yet organized, desk in the corner. His bed is haphazardly made with a soft looking comforter the color of light steel blue and it smells like him, the ambrosia concentrated in the small space.

There’s pictures hung throughout, small polaroids and striking black and white images that Jeongguk immediately recognizes as Taehyung’s work. They cover most of the wall space, save for a window located on the same wall as Jimin's bed, the street lamps below illuminating the rain drops that decorate the glass, refracting colors. The lighting is warm and intimate, and the whole space gives off a comforting vibe that is inviting. 

It makes Jeongguk feel at ease, even though it's an unfamiliar setting.

“Sorry about the mess. Not enough hours in the day,” Jimin trails off, and Jeongguk flashes him what he hopes is an understanding smile. 

“I was just about to compliment your room,” he admits. “It’s really nice. I like it.”

Jimin gifts him with another one of his pretty eye smiles, and brushes a few strands of his hair back behind his ear while murmuring, “thank you,” bare feet shuffling along the floor, toes sinking into a soft shaggy rug in an ivory shade.

There’s another short pause before Jimin claps his hands together, appearing as if ready to get down to business.

“So, do you wanna do it on the bed, the floor, or the desk?”

Jeongguk’s eyes go wide, mouth slack right before he chokes on his own saliva, pounding on his chest while Jimin stares on in concern. 

“P-Pardon?” he wheezes out, cheeks flaming.

“Should we study on my bed, the floor, or at my desk?” he elaborates. “There’s not much room, so wherever you think you would be most comfortable.”

“Oh. Oh, um...wherever you think is best, I’m open to...wherever,” he finishes lamely, pulling at the collar of his shirt while Jimin beams at him in amusement. 

“Bed it is,” Jimin decides, and Jeongguk is sure his life flashes before his eyes, this night likely to be the death of him. “This way I can sit on one end and you can be down at the other and I won’t see the flashcards.”

“You made flashcards,” Jeongguk rasps, desperate for a distraction as he still tries not to panic over the idea of being on Jimin’s bed. 

Jimin has been on his bed, after all. Not that there's a quid pro quo element, or anything, but still...

 

 

Exciting times.

 

 

“Of course,” Jimin answers, unaware of Jeongguk’s inner turmoil. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable while I get everything.”

Jeongguk slowly lowers himself onto the end of Jimin’s bed, sinking into the soft plush surface of the down comforter and mattress while Jimin rummages around at his desk.     

When he comes back, he hands Jeongguk a daunting stack of homemade flashcards before sitting curled up on the opposite end, taking Jeongguk’s expression of disbelief as reluctance. 

“I know it’s a lot, you really don’t have to go through all of them—”

“No, I don’t mind, really. It’s just, this is a lot for you to have to know,” he answers sympathetically. “Like, a lot.”

“Yeah,” Jimin snorts. “Hopefully some of this appears on the test.”

Jeongguk flips through a few of them, weary of ruining the neatly made cards or mixing them up. 

“My Hanja is a little rusty,” he admits, after eyeing one particular flashcard. 

“The correct pronunciation and meaning are on the back,” Jimin directs helpfully with a grin, and Jeongguk smiles dopely back at him. 

Turning the card over, Jeongguk begins to read the term out loud.

°•🎨🖌•°

A tortured groan echos in the room, and Jeongguk’s eyes seek out Jimin, laying on the bed in a way that allows his head to hang over the edge, arms spread out over the duvet, finger twisting and pulling at the bottom hem of his pants, likely without him even realizing he's doing it. 

The rain has picked up, a light drumming against the glass that Jeongguk finds soothing, and he thinks this kind of atmosphere suits Jimin best.

“I’ve made a grave mistake.”

Jeongguk hums in consideration before he replies.

"Nope. You've pretty much gotten them all right so far."

"No, not that. A different mistake."

“Oh?”

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

“You’re definitely cut out for this. Now come on, tell me about tort law.”

Jimin mumbles his answer as if reading it from his notes. 

“Korean civil code article seven-fifty defines torts by stating any person who causes losses to or inflicts injuries on another person by an unlawful act, willingly or negligently, shall make compensation for damages.”

“Wow, you got it word for word.”

“My brain hurts.”

“Do you wanna take a break? We’ve been at this for a while.”

“I’m waiting.”

“Waiting for what,” Jeongguk wonders, but just as he does, the distant sound of the doorbell ringing reaches his ears.

“For that,” Jimin answers with a grin, legs coming up over his head as he backrolls perfectly off of the bed without incident. “I ordered food,” he reveals, moving towards the door, and Jeongguk jumps up automatically, explaining when he sees Jimin’s curious expression. 

“I’ll help you bring it in.”

“Aren’t you sweet,” he beams before turning back and exiting the room, missing the way Jeongguk's cheeks heat as he follows close behind. 

Jimin answers the door, but Jeongguk is the one who reaches for the numerous bags of food as he pays the delivery man, carrying them inside and to the kitchen where he sets them on the counter. When Jimin returns, he’s putting his wallet in his back pocket, inhaling deeply as the smell of the food permeates the air. 

“Not that I’m complaining,” Jeongguk starts tentatively, “but you ordered a lot of food.”

Jimin laughs lightly, going towards the cupboards and getting down glasses and plates. 

“Just wait.”

Minutes later, a door opens from down the hall, and Jimin turns to him with a playful smirk. 

“Like sharks smelling blood,” he whispers, causing Jeongguk to crack a smile. 

Hoseok saunters into the kitchen, appearing interested.

“Ahhh, Jimin-ah, is that bossam I smell?”

“It is, among other things,” Jimin answers with a smug expression, turning to hand Hoseok a plate. “There’s plenty for you, Yoongi hyung and Namjoon hyung when he gets back.”

“You’re so attractive to me right now,” Hoseok murmurs, Jeongguk’s eyes widening at that easy confession, but Jimin merely snorts while Hoseok turns back towards the hall to yell. 

“Yoongi-yah!”

“Yeah!?”

“Food!”

As Hoseok and Jimin continue to move about the kitchen, Jeongguk turns at the sound of shuffling, a slightly disheveled looking Yoongi appearing before him rubbing at his cheek as he inspects the scene.

“You didn’t have to get everyone food, Jimin-ah.”

“I know,” Jimin reassures, and continues to dish various things out onto a plate. “I was already ordering for Jeongguk and I, and thought I’d get a little bit more in case everyone was hungry.”

"How much was it?" Hoseok asks. "We'll cover half." He motions towards Yoongi and the man digs around in his pockets, presumably for his wallet, before Jimin adamantly declines.

"It's fine, hyung. Really."

"Take it off his rent," Hoseok murmurs, and Jimin laughs, shaking his head.

Yoongi simply nods at the instruction before his eyes slide towards Jeongguk, traveling up and down his form in a lethargic manner.

“Aren’t you going to get some food? He went to all this trouble to feed you.”

“Ai, hyung,” Jimin admonishes, licking sauce off of his finger.

“Of course,” Jeongguk rushes to answer. “I just didn’t want to get in the way. I'm just waiting till they're finished.”

“And that is very thoughtful of you,” Jimin compliments, guiding him into the kitchen with one hand on the center of his back while the other one balances his own plate. “Go get some food and we’ll take it in my room.”

Jeongguk makes up a plate quickly, probably far too obvious with how fast he rushes to get out of there. Jimin wraps his free arm around him in a comforting gesture before calling over his shoulder, “Help yourselves, and tell Namjoon hyung to do the same when he comes home.”

Murmurs of gratitude follow them back to Jimin’s room and Jeongguk breathes a deep sigh of relief, visibly relaxing when the door closes, a barrier between him and Jimin's present roommates.

“Are you alright?” Jimin asks, a small sympathetic smile painting his pretty lips, as if he already knows the answer.

“Yeah, just...your roommates are really intense,” he admits honestly, sinking to the floor to eat so he doesn’t mess up Jimin’s bed. 

Jimin does the same, folding down next to him in a graceful motion and releasing a deep exhale of his own.

“That’s probably my fault.”

“How so? If you don’t mind me asking,” Jeongguk rushes to add, not wanting him to feel pressured in any way. 

Jimin shrugs, taking a bite of his food in what Jeongguk assumes is a way to buy time. Slowly he chews and swallows, preferring to stare at the ground then meet his gaze. 

“You don’t have to tell me.”

Jimin shakes his head at the offer before quietly speaking.

“They’ve just been around for a lot,” he reveals. “Ups and downs, good and bad. They’ve had to pick up the pieces a couple of times. I’m kind of naive,” he says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “A helpless romantic, I told you.”

Jeongguk nods. “I am too,” he admits again, wanting to make Jimin more comfortable, and this time the smile does reach his eyes, but only briefly. 

“A lot of people out there aren’t,” he husks. “What I mean is, where I see the potential of something, in my past experience, others just see what's convenient, or beneficial, if that makes sense."

"It does," Jeongguk reassures, already feeling his stomach start to drop before Jimin carries on.

"I guess it’s plain to see. How eager and dedicated I am,” he clarifies. “It’s embarrassingly easy to take advantage of that, and a lot of the time, in my relationships; intimate or otherwise, I found I was giving more and more of myself and receiving very little in return, until I couldn’t do it anymore. I don’t really like to give up on people, so sometimes I didn’t, even if it was at my own expense. Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon would help me through it. Were there for me and got me to see things for what they really were. As a result though, they've become more…intense, ” he finishes, coining Jeongguk's earlier description.

Jimin peeks up at him, almost as if he’s worried of being judged and wants to take in his reaction. 

It’s hard to say what he finds, or what his expression shows, but Jeongguk’s heart hurts. 

Jimin has a way of revealing just enough without admitting too much, and as such, he doesn’t know the severity of his past traumas, nor does he know specifics of people and situations he’s had to endure, but he doesn’t have to in order to see the effect it’s had on him, the way his head tilts down, shoulders hunched in on himself to make him seem smaller, fingers tugging on fingers.

Jeongguk doesn’t need details to know he wants to take that pain away from him. To recognize this drive to protect him and keep him safe, because he cares. Because Jimin means something to him…

“I hate that you went through that,” he breathes, watching as Jimin raises his head slightly, “And now I’m even more grateful; immensely grateful, that you have people looking out for you like your roommates. People who are concerned for your well-being and happiness. And just so you know, I count myself among them. You deserve to be happy, Jimin, just as you deserve to be treated with the same kindness and generosity you show others.”

There’s so much more he wants to say. So much he wants Jimin to know, but the enormity of revealing such things might be far too much to handle or take in, and Jimin already looks overwhelmed with his declaration to the point that his eyes appear misty for a moment, but he blinks and it’s gone. 

“You can’t be real,” he mumbles under his breath, and Jeongguk’s brow pinches as he strains to hear him. 

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” the law student waves away, taking in a deep breath. “Thank you, Jeongguk-ah. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Jeongguk beams, just glad that he no longer seems upset. 

“You don’t have to thank me, hyung. Not for something that I feel should already be owed to you by rights. I’ve learned myself that people who don’t show you the same energy are not worth wasting it on.”

“I agree,” Jimin replies, a small half-smile tugging at his lips. “Took a while for me to figure it out, but I got there in the end.”

Jeongguk’s own lips transform into a bright smile, matching Jimin before they continue to eat their food. 

°•🎨🖌•°

Jeongguk holds up another flash card, showing the front side to Jimin as he silently reads along the definition on the back.

“It's a criminal act. Part of the Statutes of Korea.”

Jeongguk doesn’t put the card down yet, and Jimin sighs. 

“Article fourteen, an act performed through ignorance of the facts which comprise the constituents of a crime by neglect of normal attention, shall be punishable only when prescribed so by the act.”

“Very good.”

“I can’t read anymore.”

“Perfect timing, that was the last flashcard.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am, but you only have like, two left.”

“Actually two, or around two?”

“Actually two,” he answers, holding them up for Jimin’s perusal.

“I can’t read,” he repeats, and Jeongguk can’t help but snort, leaning forward and poking Jimin’s cheek where he's laid flat on the bed.

“Do you need another break?” 

“I need sleep, and to reevaluate my life choices.”

“You’re gonna ace this test, Jimin. Of that, I can assure you.”

Slowly, Jimin’s eyes blink open, lashes kissing the tops of his cheeks, his splayed body once again draped artfully over his bed, and Jeongguk longs for a pencil, a brush, anything, well aware that he will be recreating this very moment as soon as he's back in the safety of his studio.

“Am I dreaming?” Jimin whispers suddenly, soft, breathy almost, and Jeongguk gives a small smile from where he leans over him his hair falling forward like another curtain that seperates them. 

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Shame.”

They stare at each other, and slowly, as if to judge his reaction, Jimin’s hand reaches up, fingers once again dancing along his jaw on their way to the strands of Jeongguk's hair that have fallen in his eyes. He smooths it back, hand framing his ear and stealing the breath from his lungs.

"Because this would make for a lovely dream."

Jeongguk’s heart races, stomach fluttering with what could very likely be the wings of a million butterflies, and he's powerless but to lean into the touch, nuzzling Jimin's palm, receptive and drinking in the way his pretty big lips part when he lets out a gasp, plump and pink and so fucking inviting he finds himself drawn to them.

Jeongguk's hand conforms to Jimin's own cheek and he wants so badly to kiss him, maybe more now than he ever has before, but he needs Jimin to tell him he can. That it's what he wants...

“Jimin,” he husks, a question that hangs in the air, one in which the older man seems very keen on answering when—

There’s a knock on the door, and Jeongguk jumps back almost as fast as Jimin’s hand retracts, the two of them breathing harshly, attempting to calm themselves before Jimin calls out.

“Come in.”

The door bursts open, an unknown man standing on the other side, already apologizing when it hits the wall harshly, seemingly not knowing his own strength. He’s tall and just...large in general, bulky in a way that makes Jeongguk envious, but also worries him. After all, if he thought the other two roommates were intense, there's no telling how this man will be. His hair is on the longer side, but styled flatteringly to show off his forehead and frame his face, eyes expressive. 

Are all of Jimin's roommates devastatingly handsome?

“Wanted to thank you for the food,” the man reveals, addressing Jimin, holding up a full plate in gratitude. 

“Of course," Jimin responds before introducing them. "Namjoon hyung this is Jeon Jeongguk. Jeongguk, this is Kim Namjoon, my other roommate.”

Jeongguk bows as much as he's able on the bed, though Namjoon seems more caught by his shirt than the gesture.

“I have that same one,” he admits, pointing to it. “Did you go to the exhibit they held near campus?”

“I did,” Jeongguk answers with a small smile, pulling the shirt down and inspecting it. “I try to go to all the art shows in the area when I can.”

“Really? I do as well. My partner and I go when we have free time.”

“Do you enjoy art?” he asks, even if he heard all this from Yoongi, wanting to show the other man his interest.

“To a fault,” Namjoon answers, and Jimin smiles at the two before addressing his roommate.

“I told you before that Jeongguk is an artist.”

“You did,” Namjoon nods, who then turns back to Jeongguk. “I’d love to see your work someday.”

“Really? Cause my goal is to open up a gallery down the line.”

At that, Namjoon comes deeper into the room, clear excitement written in his features, his next words taking Jeongguk by surprise. 

“I have a mind to do the same,” he admits before shaking his head. “I’m not an artist, but I’ve been studying the business and requirements necessary to try and run a gallery, or an art museum.”

“We sound like we complete each other,” Jeongguk smiles. “I have no idea how to run a gallery, but I have a bunch of art to fill one with.”

Jimin looks between the two of them, beaming and practically emulating pride. 

“Maybe you two should exchange numbers, sounds like there’s a lot you could learn from each other.”

Surprisingly, Jeongguk agrees. He’s not fond of giving his number out if he doesn’t have to, but the idea of being able to talk to someone like-minded about his dream and career goals is exhilarating.

Eagerly, they both pull out their phones and add each other to their contacts with promises to get in touch.

“Sorry to disturb you guys, I’m gonna go to bed, got an early lecture in the morning.”

“No problem,” Jimin assures. “I didn’t realize how late it was,” he admits, motioning towards the bedside clock, Jeongguk’s eyes widening when he realizes it’s past ten. 

“Yeah, I should, I should go,” he stutters, gaining his feet and stretching, wondering if he imagines the way Jimin's eyes seem to peruse his elongated body.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Jimin offers, sliding off the bed as well to follow them out. 

Namjoon goes left and further down the hall while they go right, towards the entryway where Jimin watches silently as he slides into his shoes and retrieves his coat from the hallway closet, the rain having yet to subside. Once he's finished slipping into his coat, It’s a bit hard to look Jimin in the eye, after what happened in the bedroom. 

What did happen?

But Jimin doesn’t seem phased. 

“Thank you for tonight. You were a lot of help.”

“Happy to do it. You have a really good grasp on everything we went over. You will ace this test, I can feel it.”

Jimin laughs softly, his expression one of such warmth that Jeongguk swears he can feel the sun on his skin. 

“I believe you,” he promises, but Jeongguk isn’t completely sure, and can only hope that he does have confidence. “Tomorrow it’s back to the drawing board,” Jimin adds, clearly amused by his own joke. "It's the digital one this time."

“Unless you wanna postpone it for another day. We can always study again, I don’t mind.” 

“I do. My brain is mush, so If I can spend an evening posing for you, that’ll be just the recharge I need.”

Those words affect him more than they should, the idea that Jimin wants to pose for him sounds oddly suggestive, but that could just be like, an artist thing that other people don't really think about in that context. Or maybe he's just weird. Either way, Jeongguk’s eyes take him in, thirsty for the visual he portrays, almost desperate to re-memorize every detail, and by the way Jimin’s expression slowly morphs into something more fervent, Jeongguk knows he sees it, answering with a look of his own that makes his head spin.

He's not sure why he does it, only knows that he feels this tempestuous need to envelope Jimin in his arms, to feel him breathe in time with his own harrowing breaths, the way his heart beats in time with his, and so he moves in close, unfolding his arms as he does, and without needing prompting, Jimin moves in to meet him. The smaller man immediately relaxes into his body, their frames fitting perfectly against one another, Jimin's arms wrapping tightly around Jeongguk just as he envelopes him in his own, that familiar ambrosial scent of his overwhelming his senses even after being in his room, black hair soft against his cheek.

They stand there for some time, swaying softly before releasing each other in increments, both reluctant to do so.

“Goodnight, Jimin. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he softly murmurs, endlessly fascinated by the way color floods the other man's cheeks, somewhat masking his endearing freckles and nearly a match for his pretty pink lips. 

“Goodnight, Jeongguk. Let me know when you get home safely.”

"I will," he promises, but makes no move to leave.

Jimin in turn seems as if he's on the cusp of doing something, mouth parting and then closing, his body seeming to move to and fro, as if he's debating whether to advance or retreat.

They seem to be in a strange limbo of sorts, caught between wanting and cautiousness.

Jeongguk makes the decision for them, and hopes that it isn’t too obvious he has to force himself away from Jimin, gifting him with a reassuring smile and a small wave before turning and walking down the corridor towards the elevator, stomach sinking when he hears the door quietly close behind him.   

Chapter 9: Digital Revisited

Notes:

Thank you to everyone for being patient, I'm working on a lot of projects right now, so I really appreciate it <3

 

Jeongguk answers the door bundled up from head to toe in his duvet, only his blank expression peeking out. 

Taehyung doesn’t even appear phased; which is honestly a testament to their relationship, and simply stares back at him for a full thirty seconds before speaking. 

“You ditched class again.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

Jeongguk’s eyes wander, sliding to the large window above his desk as he searches for an excuse.

“It’s raining.”

“And?”

“It’s dangerous to drive in the rain.”

“Then it’s a good thing you walk to campus.”

“I couldn’t find my umbrella.”

Taehyung very pointedly enters the apartment, keeping his eyes focused on Jeongguk the entire time when he opens the entryway closet. His umbrella is there, leaning up against the wall and practically judging him in the way only inanimate objects can.

“There it is,” he exclaims, flashing Tae an exaggerated smile before his expression evens out again.  

“You just started going back and you said you weren’t going to do this anymore.”

“I’m fickle,” Jeongguk shrugs, the motion awkward under the weight of his blanket.

He leaves Taehyung there to either follow him or leave while he shuffles back to bed, missing the warmth of it already. 

“What’s going on with you?” he calls after him, closing the door as Jeongguk collapses onto his mattress dramatically instead of answering, watching from the opening in his blanket while the photography major moves deeper into his studio, his gaze flitting over the covered surfaces in his kitchen, likely gaining an idea as to what is wrong without him having to explain. 

“Did you do all of these last night?”

Taehyung holds up an oil painting which is a recreation of Jimin’s pose from yesterday, splayed artfully over his bed as he studied, eyes hooded, fingers curled, head tilted back to expose the alluring expanse of his throat. 

His affirmative sounds more like a groan than anything else, and Jeongguk burrows deeper into his blanket, the lids of his eyes feeling almost as heavy as the entirety of his body, energy completely depleted. 

“Jeongguk…your whole apartment is covered in them.”

“Yep.”

He remembers how manic he was last night, pushing aside sleep and hunger, driven with the need to get everything down on paper, every detail he witnessed, every subtle nuance of Jimin being comfortable and open in his own environment.

He felt possessed to recreate it all. 

 

Taehyung carefully sets the paper down, the paint likely still wet, and turning slowly he surveys the other numerous pieces he finds himself surrounded by, some complete, others not. He seems to zero in on one in particular, and when he picks it up, Jeongguk knows exactly which one it is, and allows his eyes to close.

“Jeongguk…is this your hand on Jimin’s cheek?”

He can’t remain ignorant, and even though he's constantly reliving that particular memory, and spent time painstakingly putting every detail of that moment to paper, Taehyung holds it up to him like he doesn’t remember every line, stroke and shade by heart, like it’s not permanently seared into his brain, the first thing he sees whenever he closes his eyes. But even still, Jeongguk’s gaze is drawn to it like an electrical force.
 

 

When he’s finally able to tear himself away from the visual reference, he sighs wearily into his pillows. 

“I almost kissed Jimin last night.”

The quiet that stretches after such a confession is loud , an answer in itself, every second dragging longer than the last. It’s likely barely a minute passes before Jeongguk can make out the sound of Taehyung carefully setting the painting down, but that one minute may as well be one hour.

“You’re really serious,” the older man mumbles, and from his tone of voice it’s easy to discern his disbelief, the quiet seeping back in as if he no longer knows how to proceed, the air somewhat awkward.

He hears Taehyung approach before the end of his bed dips, a hand squeezing his calf to offer physical comfort. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Jeongguk mumbles before immediately contradicting himself. “It was perfect. The rain was falling against his window, the lighting was warm. He pushed my hair back, really soft, and it was like he was pulling me in while I was leaning down. God he smells so good, and the way he feels …I didn’t even care about any of my usual reservations or nerves, just wanted to meet him halfway…and then his roommate knocked on the door.”

Taehyung tuts, shaking his head at the recounting, and Jeongguk wants to wallow in his misery, in the loss of what could’ve been…

“What about after the roommate left?”

“We kind of just…acted like nothing happened. Then Jimin walked me to the door and I went home.”

 

 

“Pity. How were his roommates by the way? Civil?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re plotting my untimely death. If I disappear, look into them first.”

“Will do.”

They’re quiet again for a moment, Jeongguk reliving that same memory from the previous night for the millionth time in his head, indulging in scenarios of what could've been if things had been different, if Namjoon hadn’t knocked on the door, or if he had just been less hesitant… 

Taehyung purposefully clears his throat, and Jeongguk’s daydreams vanish in the blink of an eye. 

“Not to be the one to point out the obvious or anything, but if you and Jimin almost kissed last night, isn’t that a good thing? Why do you seem miserable?”

“Because we didn't kiss, obviously. "

"Obviously," Tae nods in commiseration. "But I'm sure there will be other opportunities."

"What if he comes to his senses and changes his mind?”

“In less than twenty-four hours?”

“He could be fickle, like me.”

“You would never be fickle when it comes to having feelings for someone, and trust me, Jimin is the same.”

“Still, the conditions were perfect last night. Things will be different today.”

“Conditions? You’re talking about him like he’s the weather. Things aren’t going to change just because you’re in a different setting. And I’m assuming neither of you were inebriated so it’s not as if he had a lapse in judgment. If Jimin wanted to kiss you yesterday he wants to kiss you just as bad today.”

“Maybe.”

Taehyung scoffs, rolling his eyes, clearly exasperated. 

“This is why you can’t have nice things. You self-sabotager.”

 “I’m a realist.”

“You’re Anthrophobic.”

“Bless you.”

“No, it means you have social anxiety and a fear of rejection.”

“I know what it means,” Jeongguk mumbles, lips turning up in a slight smirk when Taehyung huffs indignantly.

With a smack to his calf that has Jeongguk feigning pain, Tae claps his hands together, the sound resonating in the quiet.

“Is there anything you need to get done before Jimin arrives tonight?”

“Need to move my desk to face this way,” he mutters with a clear lack of enthusiasm, absently waving his hand in that general direction. “We’re doing digital tonight.”

“Come on then. Out of bed. I’ll help you move it.”

Jeongguk groans but compiles, grateful for the assistance, though when he does drag himself out of bed, he brings his blanket with him. 

It takes about ten minutes to carefully maneuver the desk with all of his equipment in the proper position, and one power strip and extension cord later and it’s good to go.

“Now, off you get, take a hot shower, it’ll make you feel better.”

For once, Jeongguk doesn’t argue, grabbing a soft black T-shirt and some loose fitting sweats before shedding his duvet and making his way to his bathroom.

He stands frozen beneath the spray, the passing of time lost to him in this state, his body feeling as if encumbered, sight perpetually blurry, and a slight tremor to his hands when he lifts them. He finally works up the energy to lather his hair and wash, going through the motions before shutting off the flow of water.

Once he's out, Jeongguk struggles to adequately dry both his hair and his body and simply shoves his uncoordinated limbs into his clothes. The feeling of dressing while his skin is still damp grates on him, and though he usually takes the time to dry his hair, his exhaustion is prevalent enough to override his particular discomforts. 

When he exits the room in a cloud of steam he breathes easier, eyes sweeping the open floor plan of his studio and taking in the way Taehyung putters about the room, a stack of artwork in his hands.

"Are you cleaning?"

"I'm hiding."

"Hiding?" Jeongguk asks in confusion, watching as he shoves the stack of paintings into a nearby cupboard and then the pantry.

"Jimin will be here in less than two hours. Thought I'd save you an awkward conversation and get rid of these for now."

"Thoughtful of you," he murmurs, shuffling his feet as he approaches to help.

"Nope. You get back in bed."

"What? Why?"

"The dark circles around your eyes are so bad you look like you did when you were going through your punk phase in high school."

"Punk is not a phase, it's a way of life," he mutters apathetically, sticking out his tongue and holding up two fingers to show off the peeling black paint on his nails.

Taehyung snorts, but very aggressively shoos him away, watching until he finally crawls back into bed, burrowing under his blankets like he's attempting to hibernate for the winter.

That sounds nice.

He drifts quickly, the distant sounds of Taehyung cleaning in the background serving to lull him to sleep. 

He dreams of Jimin's eyes and the softness of his skin, that addicting ambrosial scent tickling his nose while Jimin's pretty plump lips part in a full smile, tantalizing, eyes turning into matching upside down crescent moons.

 

 

Fingers as light as feathers brush across his cheek, and then trace along the lid of his eye when it closes, tip-toeing down the slope of his nose...

"Jeongguk. Jeongguk-ah?"

His voice lilts like a song, and he hums absently in response, nuzzling into that delicate palm, lips puckering as if to kiss.

"Jeongguk?"

"—Jeongguk?"

His eyes flutter open, and that angelic face stares down at him, expression open and fond, easily readable in a way that steals his breath, Jimin's gaze filled with intense emotions.

Like he hung the sun and the moon.

"Am I still dreaming?"

Jeongguk watches as his eyes soften and that smile widens even further, revealing his cute crooked front tooth.

"No. You're not dreaming."

He shifts, and it's then that Jeongguk notices that Jimin has a hand in his hair, fingers carefully brushing the stands away from his face so they don’t obstruct his view. This almost feels like fate giving him a second chance after witnessing his spectacular failure the previous night. It has handed him a gift. Redemption…

But he squanders it.

"Where's Taehyung?"

The moment vanishes, and he hates himself.

"He let me in,” Jimin reveals, none the wiser. “Said he had to get home. Asked me to wake you."

Jeongguk murmurs in acknowledgement, knowing that he should get up, but instead stays where he is, leaning further into Jimin's lingering touch, indulging in it when the older man’s expression shifts to one of worry.

"Do you wanna reschedule? You look so tired."

"No I'm fine. I’m awake, m’just…comfortable."

Jeongguk stretches, elongating his body as he does so, moaning at how good the simple action makes him feel. When he looks back, Jimin's cheeks are slightly flushed, and in an effort to find the cause his eyes take in his ensemble for the first time and Jeongguk can't help but stare in open-mouth shock. 

"You've got to be kidding me."

"What?" Jimin wonders, clearly confused and a bit concerned.

"You do look good in orange!"

It’s said like an accusation, and Jimin can’t help but splutter. He's wearing what must be the same clothes from the first time they worked on the digital piece, vibrant orange making up the majority of the shirt, with small white text on his upper right side reading Nomad, so the back must say Be a good human. 

And somehow, through some form of sorcery, Jimin looks stunning in the shade. 

"How is this possible," he whispers to himself in disbelief, and the next thing he knows Jimin is collapsing onto him in a fit of giggles, clearly amused by Jeongguk's reaction.

But this is no laughing matter. It should be illegal for someone to not only pull off that color, but to also look as good in it as Jimin does.

"This isn't funny," he practically grumbles against Jimin's neck, causing him to laugh even harder. "It's completely unfair."

Jimin shakes against him, nearly slipping off, but Jeongguk’s arms are quick to wrap him up, his hands framing the delicate curve of his spine while he keeps him steady.

“How are you real?”

Jimin’s laughter fades slowly, his body still save for the deep even breaths he takes, and the moment feels like a precursor to something else, as if Jeongguk stands at a precipice with the intention to jump, waiting to see if he’ll fall or fly.

When Jimin finally pulls back, Jeongguk’s hands sliding down the curve of his back to land somewhere near his hips, he takes note of the smokey shadow that adorns his pretty eyes, and there's something about the way it makes him look that gives him a completely different aura, intense, a stranger in familiar skin.

Jimin hums suddenly, shifting in his hold, and Jeongguk swears he can feel the rumbling of it against his own skin, captivated by that confident smile.

“I did tell you I looked good in orange. You just didn’t believe me”

“Because it should be impossible.”

Again Jimin giggles, hand coming up to tug at Jeongguk’s own black shirt before smoothing the material out once more.

“I’ll never doubt you again,” he sighs, that happy smile adorning Jimin’s plush lips once more.

“Thank you, and for last night, as well.”

Immediately, Jeongguk’s mind conjures up their almost kiss, but as Jimin continues that memory is waved away. 

“You helped me immensely, I feel a lot more prepared for the test now.”

He blinks up at him, a warmth in his belly igniting in response to his gratitude, having the interesting effect of making him feel as if he’s floating. 

“I was more than happy to do it,” he answers softly, truthfully, studying Jimin’s features, captivated with every detail. 

“My roommates enjoyed meeting you as well. They really like you.”

Jeongguk’s expression immediately falls, giving voice to his dismay. 

“You’re pulling my leg.”

Jimin gives another full body laugh, once again nearly collapsing on top of him. 

“I am not. They really do like you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You just said you would never doubt me again.”

“Fair enough. I don’t doubt that you believe that to be true.”

“They told me as much,” Jimin laughs, leaning forward enough that Jeongguk is able to tighten his arms around him.

Chuckling without humor, he shakes his head as he stares off into space, remembering their interactions from the previous day. 

“If that’s them liking someone, I’d hate to see what they’re like when they dislike someone.”

“Not sure. People they don’t get along with kind of tend to disappear.”

Jimin states it as if it’s a fact of little consequence, and Jeongguk can’t help but gape at him. 

“I’m kidding.”

“Yeah,” he splutters. “Of course, yeah.”

“You’re so cute. You actually looked nervous.”

“It’s my natural state of being.”

Jimin’s teeth sink into his bottom lip, as if attempting to keep the smile he wears at bay.

“Fair warning, though, you’ll probably hear from Namjoon soon. He’s always eager to talk to people who share his interests.”

“I liked him. He was less scary than the others.”

Jimin shakes his head, though his eyes sparkle in amusement, giving him away. 

“I promise next time you come over it won’t be so bad. They’ve warmed up to you.”

Next time.

Despite the anxiousness he harbors when facing down virtual strangers, Jeongguk would very much like there to be a next time. 

They stare at one another with matching grins, the air between them comfortable, but expectant. Jeongguk feels the weight of it, and he wonders if he should not be so idle. There is work to be done, after all, and if he isn’t going to make something happen, he shouldn’t wait for it to.

“Should we…um,” he motions in the general vicinity of his desk, more than regretful when Jimin’s eyes widen in realization.

“Right,” he exclaims after Jeongguk trails off, his arms slipping from him as he quickly climbs off of both him and the mattress, moving to retrieve what looks to be a thick yoga mat from the ground. 

He lays it down neatly on the floor near the bed as Jeongguk slides off of it, groaning while he stretches, getting the blood flowing again.

As Jimin moves into position, Jeongguk walks leisurely to the recently moved desk, waking up the screen of his drawing monitor before pulling up the piece from last time, taking cues from it in order to direct Jimin better once he slips to his knees.

“Tilt your head back a bit more…good. Now arch your back, open up your chest…here."

Jeongguk immediately moves out from behind the desk once more, approaching Jimin head-on before circling around to his side.

"Can I touch you?"

It’s a suggestive request, and he's sure he doesn't imagine it when Jimin's ribs visibly constrict, his answer coming out breathy.

" Yes ."

Placing one hand on the center of his back, and the other in the exact same position on his chest, Jeongguk pauses briefly, measuring the rapid pounding of the heart beneath his palm before guiding him into the proper pose, Jimin's body conforming, resembling a bow after Jeongguk’s gentle encouragement.

"Here,” he rasps, coughing unsubtly while his fingers trail down Jimin’s arms, encircling his wrists and lifting. “Hands cupped behind your head, fingers interlaced…good. Now, spread your legs just a bit more for me. Perfect. Just like that."

Stepping back in order to critique everything, Jeongguk immediately steps forward again, gently shaping the strands of Jimin’s hair so that they frame his face just so, artfully hanging in his eyes; taking note of how blown his pupils are, the effect giving him a sultry look. Jeongguk focuses on the task, even as he feels the heat of Jimin’s gaze, almost unblinking with the intensity of his attention. 

“There,” he says unnecessarily as a means to fill the silence, stepping back once more to look, Jimin staring up at him, waiting. 

“Perfect,” he declares, voice husky and bringing heat to his own cheeks. 

He retreats back to the safety of his desk, dragging over his usual stool as he sets up a new template on the monitor.

“Let me know if you need any breaks. I mean it. As soon as your knees start to hurt, tell me.”

“I will,” Jimin softly promises, remaining perfectly still. 

Jeongguk browses through his settings, choosing his preferred paintbrush for the linework, picking a dark red shade to work with and adjusting the size. Grasping the stylus between his lips to free up his hands, he takes a hairband he keeps on his wrist and ties his hair up as best as he can, eyes looking away from his screen to take in Jimin’s pose once more before he begins.

In this position, arms up, hands behind his head, Jeongguk can make out black text decorating just above Jimin’s elbows, and acutely remembers their conversation the last time they did this, involving tattoos. He can also clearly recall the encompassing sensation of yearning he was constantly plagued with, housing his desire to see what Jimin looked like, to lay eyes on him for the first time, proven right that his imagination could never compare to the reality of him. 

“What do the tattoos on your arms say?” He asks, pausing in his work for the answer. 

“Young forever,” Jimin murmurs, lids fluttering, and Jeongguk stares openly at him, once again hit by how beautiful he is. 

“I like it,” he answers softly after it’s been quiet for too long. “It suits you.”

Jimin’s lips turn up in another pretty smile, freckles disappearing in the heat of his blush again.

“Thank you.”

“You said you had a few here and there the last time we talked about it. There’s young forever, and I’ve seen the thirteen on your wrist. Anymore?”

“Maybe,” Jimin answers, deliberately being coy. “You’ll have to see for yourself.”

Jeongguk gulps.

He’s not imagining it, is he? Is that meant to be suggestive? Coupled with the tone of his voice, it sounds… suggestive .

Likely due to the exhaustion, Jeongguk confidently mutters back, “Tease,” the corner of his own lips turning up into a smirk when Jimin erupts into quiet laughter, clearly not expecting that reply and doing his best to hold his pose.

Continuing the linework, Jeongguk focuses his attention on the task, his eyes flitting up and over to Jimin every now and then, noting the shape his form makes and emulating it onto the digital canvas. 

“I can see the circles under your eyes from here.”

“Can you?” he wonders, nearly finished with the shape. Next will be the features. 

“Mmhmm. Not sleeping again?”

“Nope. Doesn’t matter how tired my body is, if my mind is awake, I’m awake.”

“And why was your mind awake last night?”

Jeongguk’s hand freezes, hovering above the screen of his monitor while his eyes slowly shift back over to Jimin, taking in his innocent curiosity. 

“I um…I wanted to paint, so…”

“You were painting the whole night?”

“I sketched, too. But yeah. Lost track of time.”

There’s a knowing glint in Jimin’s gaze when he poses his next question. 

“What was the subject of your art?”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen slightly, heart racing with his minor panic before he shrugs, feigning indifference. 

“This and that.”

His voice sounds strangled, ruining the attempt at nonchalance, and Jimin raises a brow at him before smiling, clearly picking up on it, seemingly endeared even as he pouts. 

“You don’t want to tell me?”

“You won’t tell me about your tattoos.”

His pillowy lips purse before he nods. 

“Touche.”

Another moment passes in silence, Jeongguk breathing a sigh of relief that the subject has been dropped. He goes back to drawing, nearly finished when Jimin speaks again. 

“Is there anything that makes you really sleepy? Sleepy enough to turn off your mind, like warm drinks or heated blankets or something?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Maybe you can try it tonight and see if it helps you get some rest.”

Though unbelievably touched by the suggestion, Jeongguk shakes his head. 

“I don’t really have anything like that that I can do to myself.”

“But you do have something?” Jimin picks up on, intrigued, and Jeongguk feels almost embarrassed when he answers.

"Having my hair played with makes me sleepy," he admits, staring at Jimin in an attempt to judge his reaction. "So it's not really something I can—"

"I can always help you."

Jeongguk blinks.

"Huh?"

"Yeah. I could play with your hair for you before I go home."

He looks so eager to help it nearly breaks his heart, but Jeongguk can't accept the offer.

"You don't have to do that, hyung. Really."

"I know, but I want to. If I can help, I don't see why not."

"I don't want to inconvenience you."

Plus there’s the intimacy of such an act. How will he ever survive the intimacy of it?

"I'm offering,"Jimin softly reminds, and Jeongguk can't really find an excuse plausible enough to be convincing.

"You're gonna play with my hair until I fall asleep?" he wonders, disbelief tinting his tone.

"If you'll let me."

“You don’t find it a bit…odd?”

“You used to have to wear a blindfold around me, and a curtain had to seperate us if we were in the same room.”

“Fair point,” Jeongguk nods. “What are you gonna do if I do fall asleep?"

“I’m going to rob you blind.”

Despite himself, Jeongguk barks out a laugh, eyes wide in surprised amusement, the two of them unable to hold it together after that as Jimin nearly collapses to the floor onto his mat again. 

“Oh, well, in that case.”

“If you fell asleep I would just quietly slip out and lock the door behind me. It’ll be like I was never here."

Jeongguk is sure he could never feel that way, and he wonders if Jimin realizes the impact he has on others, his presence felt even after he goes.

"And you're sure you don't mind?"

Jimin gifts him with another warm smile.

"I'm sure, Jeongguk-ah."

"I've never had anyone volunteer to play with my hair before."

"No?"

He shakes his head, Jimin clicking his tongue in response as if it’s a shame.

"I'll be the first, then."

“You’ll be the first,” he confirms with a smile, going back to his linework. 

When he’s finished with Jimin, he adds an additional layer, quickly sketching in the general background, not going too in depth with it as he lowers the opacity on Jimin’s form and gets in the shape of everything he wants to add. 

His eyes blur terribly, a consequence over his lack of sleep, and he clasps the stylus between his lips once more, rubbing at his lids before frustratingly shoving his hair out of his eyes. 

Where are his bows?

“I’m done with the linework,” he announces, forgetting about the stylus and fumbling to catch it as it tumbles from his mouth. “Go ahead and take a break, I’m gonna look for my bows. My hair keeps getting in the way,” Jeongguk murmurs, distracted as he looks around. 

“Want me to help you find them?”

“If you don’t mind. Can you check the drawers in the bathroom? They might be in there.”

Jimin gains his feet, heading in that direction while Jeongguk searches around the living area, trying to remember the last time he used them and where they ended up. He searches behind wayward art supplies and in places he frequents, but nothing. 

“Found them,” Jimin calls as he comes back out of the bathroom, and Jeongguk smiles when he goes to meet him, stilling completely once he sees what else the law student has in his hands. 

“Uh, these were kind of shoved into one of the drawers.”

He’s holding a stack of papers, and Jeongguk knows before he even spies the top one that it’s a small portion of the art he worked on late last night, filled with multiple renditions of Jimin, all from the previous day, most of which feature their almost kiss.

He has half a mind to call up Taehyung and curse out his hiding skills.

“Weird place for them,” he announces for lack of anything better to say, trying to feign unaffectedness even while tugging at the hem of his shirt in a nervous tell, barely able to hold Jimin’s stare when he looks up at him with sparkling eyes.

“I haven’t looked through them,” he quickly promises.

Not that he needs to, the top painting is very obviously one of Jimin, lids lowered, teeth sinking into his full bottom lip. 

It’s pretty damning. 

“But maybe they’ll fare better if they were put into a folder or something? They were getting kind of wrinkled in the drawer, and this one is really beautiful. It would be sad if it was ruined.”

You’re beautiful, he wants to say, but simply nods instead.

“A folder would definitely be a better place for them,” Jeongguk agrees, accepting the stack when Jimin offers it to him. 

“So this is what you were painting last night?” he asks, eyes bright as he looks up at Jeongguk, who is very tempted to count each lash that lines his lids. 

He wants to soften the truth, maybe make it seem less meaningful than it really is.

“Yes,” he answers instead, caught in Jimin’s gaze, wanting to offer him nothing but honesty in regards to his actions, even if the driving force of his feelings remains hidden.

Jimin nods in understanding, and Jeongguk turns away, moving to the drawer in his desk that houses his folders, carefully transferring the stack of artwork into one before closing it away. When he turns back around, Jimin is right there, closer than he was and holding his bows out with an unrecognizable expression. 

“Can I help you put them in?”

Lips parting in his surprise, and rendered speechless, all Jeongguk can do is nod in acquiescence to his request, lowering himself to grant better access. 

With the lightest touch, Jimin’s hand comes up, tracing along his temples and gathering the stray strands of hair that fall over his face. His fingers push them back, getting a bow ready with his other hand to pin it in place. Jeongguk’s eyes flutter closed while Jimin completes the task, opening slowly when his touch lingers before his hands lower back to his sides, slipping away. 

They stand there a moment, toe to toe, their gazes searching in equal measure before Jimin deliberately turns, showing off his profile, fingers burying in the strands of his own hair near the back of his neck, lifting it up until he reveals the skin behind his ears, and it’s there that Jeongguk spies black curling script, the ink artfully designed to spell out the word Youth.

Jeongguk’s hand comes up unbidden, fingers tracing over the delicate lettering, noting the way Jimin shivers when the site is touched, sensitive. 

“Beautiful,” he breathes, looking up when Jimin’s eyes finds his, something monumental in his stare. “But why—”

Jimin shrugs, releasing his hair as he turns to fully face him again. 

“Reciprocity,” he beams. “I’m a big believer in it.”

Jeongguk’s mouth opens and closes, Jimin’s smile widening as he moves away. 

When he goes to follow him, Jeongguk stops short, a sudden dizzying spell taking over and making him slightly unsteady on his feet, Jimin noticing right away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…realized I haven’t eaten today.”

As he chances a glance up, Jeongguk feels a nervous laugh bubble at the back of his throat by how murderous Jimin looks. 

“Jeongguk-ah?”

“Yes?”

“Do I have to scold you?”

“N-No, hyung.”

“Come on,” he orders in a no-nonsense tone, moving towards the kitchen.

“What are you doing,” Jeongguk wonders, easily obeying as he follows after him. 

“Taking care of you, now where’s your ramen?”

Wordlessly, Jeongguk reaches up into the top cupboards, ignoring another stack of poorly hidden artwork and pulls the ramen down, handing it over to Jimin when he holds his hand out for it expectantly. He gets a pot and lid out for him as well, standing in the middle of the kitchen, unsure as to what to do while Jimin measures out the water and turns the stove on. Once that’s going, the law student takes his hand and leads him back towards the small couch, guiding him down onto it with a stern finger.

“Rest. Close your eyes if you want, I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

Jimin purposefully waits until he agrees, and when Jeongguk nods somewhat numbly, he goes back to the kitchen, pleased.

This…is not how he saw tonight going.

Despite that, he sits there, too tired to do anything, but too keyed up to sleep, so he zones out instead, feeling as if his mind races, leaving the rest of him behind. 

It’s the smell of the ramen wafting to his nose that brings him out of it, glancing up just in time to watch Jimin bring him a rather large, steaming bowl, his stomach gurgling embarrassingly loud at the sight. Jeongguk accepts it gratefully, staring up at Jimin in gratitude. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he answers, eyes shining in a way that holds Jeongguk’s attention, even though he’s hungry and has food in his hands. “I made some for myself if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Jeongguk assures. “We can eat together.”

Jimin retreats back to the kitchen, dishing himself up a bowl while Jeongguk wraps some ramen around his chopsticks, lifts it to his lips and blows. 

Jimin comes back a moment later, a bowl of his own clasped securely in his grip as he takes a seat next to Jeongguk, wasting no time before he begins to eat. 

Watching him for a moment, Jeongguk finally takes his own bite, lids sliding closed as a noise of appreciation rumbles in his chest. 

“Good?”

“Really good,” he compliments, immediately going for more. 

They don’t talk much, the two of them using their energy to devour their meal, and Jeongguk needs it. The more he eats, the better he feels, stomach settling, a bit of energy restored. 

When he finishes, Jeongguk cradles his empty bowl in his lap and allows himself to sink deeper into the cushions of his small loveseat, content.

“Better?”

“Much better, thank you.”

“Anytime. However, if I find out you’re not eating and sleeping again you’re in for a lecture, and some fussing cause I will put you in bed and make you food.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad.”

Jimin giggles, shaking his head as he takes another bite of what’s left of his ramen. 

As soon as he finishes, he takes both of their bowls back to the kitchen, Jeongguk left to feel like a terrible host as Jimin does everything, guilt seeping in. When he returns, he voices as much. 

“You’re too good to me, Jimin. I feel terrible that you’re putting so much work into this when I should be making things easier for you.”

Jimin blinks down at him, seemingly struck by his words. Jeongguk watches as he physically shakes himself out of it, aiming a heated expression his way.

“I care about you, Jeongguk. I want to make sure you’re okay. If I can help in any way, no matter how small, I’ll always be happy to do so, because it makes me happy as well. I enjoy taking care of the people I care for.”

Jeongguk’s chest swells, heart rabbiting against his ribcage in a familiar manner that occurs frequently in Jimin’s presence, as if its sole goal is to escape and put itself in the palms of the hands that it is beholden to. 

“Now come on,” Jimin instructs, unaware of his musings, holding his hand out—which Jeongguk absently takes—in order to pull him to his feet. “You’ve got a digital masterpiece to finish.”

Despite the sudden water misting his eyes, his exhaustion helping to make him even more emotional, Jeongguk grins, allowing the older man to lead him back behind his desk, where he watches as Jimin returns to his earlier position, sinking back down onto his mat and getting into pose. 

Taking a moment to orient himself, Jeongguk gets back into it, changing his brush out and going into his color wheel to search for the shade he wants. Jimin remains quiet, seeming to realize that the faster they get this done, the faster Jeongguk can sleep and recharge. Still, he misses their easy conversations and it prompts him to speak.

“I do too,” he blurts out, shading in the shadows on digital Jimin’s skin. “I care about you too,” he elaborates. “Even if I think that that’s painfully obvious sometimes, I wanted you to hear it from me. To know.”

The look Jimin aims at him takes Jeongguk’s breath away, and he watches as the older man’s arms almost lower before he remembers himself, hands going up to once again cup the back of his head. He wavers for a moment, like he isn’t sure if he wants to stay in place or get up and do… something.

Jeongguk really wants to know what that something would be.

But Jimin seems to make up his mind, keeping his pose even as a look of regret crosses his features. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, shifting on his knees. “It means a lot to hear it.”

Jeongguk holds his stare before going back to his work, hands trembling again with his nerves, heart pounding against his pulse points and echoing in his ears. He just told Jimin he cares about him, revealing more of his hand, sharing a glimpse of how deep in this he really is.

It feels exhilarating.

Taking in deep even breaths, he reminds himself that he has a project to finish, carried forward with the knowledge that as soon as he’s done, he’ll be gifted with the feel of Jimin’s fingers running through his hair, sweet oblivion waiting for him.

The style he went with for this particular piece doesn’t require perfection or complete realism, so it won’t take too much time.  

He hopes.

Jeongguk allows himself to get lost in it, speaking only to ask Jimin if his knees are okay before returning back to his painting, changing layers, sloping his lines and blending his colors. He shifts between the first digital piece he did and the one he’s currently working on, wanting them to be as similar as possible with the only real visible difference being Jimin himself. The focal point of his project.

Jeongguk keeps working, stepping back and shaking out his hand as he takes it in, tilting his head in different directions and angles as he appraises it. The light behind his windows disappears, rain sprinkling against his window before picking up in pace and force, and all the while it’s quiet, though the way Jimin stares at him feels loud, as if he’s speaking a thousand declarations through just a look.

Jeongguk doesn’t take a break, nor does Jimin ask for one, assuring him his knees are fine, and he keeps going until he decides there’s nothing to be done. For the most part the piece is finished, and he’s far too tired to be picky with minor mistakes, which can be saved for a later date. 

Placing the stylus back in its place, he walks over to Jimin, the older man gazing up at him expectantly, waiting to see what he’ll do when he offers him a hand. 

“I’m done for the night,” he tells him when he accepts it, helping to pull Jimin up, worried when he winces as he stands. “Are you alright?”

“M’fine,” Jimin assures. “Just a bit stiff. Can I see it?”

Wordlessly, Jeongguk leads him over to his desk, the two of them rounding it to take in the screen, and Jeongguk sees the painting differently, trying to take it in through Jimin’s eyes. See what he sees. 

“It’s gorgeous, Jeongguk-ah. It looks…soft, almost. Like there are no harsh lines. I really love your style.”

“Yeah?”

Jimin hums, his focus still captivated by the art. 

“That’s a good way to describe it,” he replies, impressed.

“I took pointers from Namjoon hyung.”

They both laugh softly, and Jeongguk feels almost overcome with how much he feels for the older man.

When Jimin does look back at him, Jeongguk’s stomach swoops, the fondness in his expression holding him captive. 

“Are you ready?”

His swooping stomach flutters back up with the wings of thousands of butterflies, remembering exactly what it is Jimin has in mind. What he’s asking. 

He’s not at all ready.

“Mhmm,” he answers instead, struggling to swallow as he shuts everything down, hitting almost every light until only the one in the kitchen remains, offering just enough for them to see each other, throwing the space into a soft glow. 

The two of them approach the bed, Jeongguk pulling on his fingers with nerves as he watches Jimin climb in first, situating himself near the headboard and patting the spot directly in front of him. 

“Use my lap as a pillow.”

Fucking hell. 

Jeongguk makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat, but tentatively moves in, shifting until he’s able to comfortably lay down and rest his head against Jimin’s lap, holding his breath, his body tense enough that it almost aches. 

“Relax, you’re okay. Let yourself sink into the mattress,” Jimin quietly instructs, and Jeongguk actively tries to listen, though his eyes go wide as he watches Jimin lean down, nearly bending himself in half in order to whisper in his ear. 

“Breathe.”

Jeongguk breathes. In through his nose, and out through his mouth.

Jimin leans back up, and steadily, he feels himself start to sink, limbs becoming heavy, eyes fluttering shut as he continues his breathing. 

“Good,” Jimin murmurs, voice melodic, and it’s then that Jeongguk feels the tips of his fingers press at his temples, blunt nails teasing along his scalp as they push into his hair.

Very carefully, he removes every bow he placed earlier, setting them aside on the nightstand, and then he gently removes the band from his hair that keeps it tied up, shaking out the strands once they’re free and relieving the pressure. A moan rumbles in the back of his throat at the sensation, and already he feels dangerously close to slipping silently into sleep. 

Those fingers card through his hair, Jeongguk’s lids fluttering even though they’re closed, and he allows more noises to slip past his lips, unembarrassed in the pleasure that having his hair played with makes him feel. 

“Listen to you,” Jimin hums, a lilt to his voice that sends shivers down Jeongguk’s spine. “Purring like a kitten.”

Jeongguk whines, Jimin’s fingers beginning to massage his scalp more thoroughly, lightly tugging on his hair in a delicious way and nearly causing Jeongguk to arch, heat licking at his spine. He combs through it with his hands, and at one point it feels as if he begins to make a braid, shaking it loose again before starting all over. 

Jeongguk can no longer feel his bed beneath him, body floating, as if suspended in mid-air. He can’t remember the last time he felt this good. This relaxed. He drifts, unsure if he sleeps or not, hearing the way Jimin whispers encouragement to him at times, making him feel as if he’s bundled in warmth. 

When those fingers begin to vanish, the cloud he rests on attempting to move away, his brow furrows, a quiet keen leaving him to voice his upset. 

immediately those gentle caresses return, easing him back down into that quiet, safe place, lulling him with their bewitching movements, always applying the perfect amount of pressure. When they once again try to move away, Jeongguk protests more vocally this time. shaking his head clumsily, those fingers gripping his hair tighter and making him whine. 

“Don’t go,” he slurs, unsure if Jimin hears him or not, but when his name floats down to him, unsure, Jeongguk knows that he has. 

“Stay,” he begs. “Want you to stay.”

Jimin doesn’t listen. Instead, he eases Jeongguk’s head from his lap so that he can slip out from under him, and he nearly cries with the loss. But then he feels a warm body move in next to his own, melding to his side as that pretty voice from before shushes him, those hands returning in his hair and calming his rising panic. 

“I’m here. I’ll stay with you, Jeongguk. Sleep now, okay.”

A sound of relief rumbles in his chest, and he turns to sink deeper into Jimin’s body, inhaling deeply of that ambrosial scent, which follows him down into the dark.

 

Chapter 10: Acrylic Revisited

Notes:

Now we're getting somewhere.

 

 

 

 

The sun pulls Jeongguk from a peaceful sleep, unforgiving against the lids of his eyes, turning his once lax expression into a grimace as he attempts to shy away from the harsh light. When he’s unsuccessful in that endeavor, he attempts to throw an arm over his face to block it out, only to groan when he realizes the limb is caught on something, tingling and slightly numb as awareness seeps in.

His lids flutter, lashes tickling the tops of his cheeks while his vision adjusts, and when it does he blinks again, unsure if he can trust what he sees, frozen still as he takes in the scene. There, curled up into his side and using one of his arms as a pillow—the other wrapped securely around his waist—is Jimin. 

He’s wearing the same orange shirt, duvet pulled up slightly over his black pants, and the shadow over his eyes is a bit smudged, but still artfully done. Slowly, Jeongguk’s surprise begins to fade; a vague memory playing in his mind that features him begging the older man to stay the night before, and Jimin sweetly indulging him, but he is beyond unsure as to what to do now. Jeongguk isn’t very tired anymore, exhaustion chased away with the favorable position he’s found himself in, and another glance towards the window confirms that he slept the whole night through; a rarity these days. Still, he doesn’t want to risk waking Jimin, loathe to disturb his sleep.  

There’s nothing for him to distract himself with, except to allow his gaze to wander as he waits for the other to rise, but his eyes are constantly drawn to Jimin’s smooth expression, features relaxed. He looks even more exquisite bathed in sunlight, the dark shade of his hair set ablaze, turning the black strands into a cherry-brown. His lips appear even bigger first thing in the morning, likely swollen, and Jeongguk’s heart picks up when there’s a sudden hitch of breath, loud in the quiet of the room once it slips past his parted lips before evening out again, body shuddering and then settling deeper into slumber as well as his side. A pretty flush decorates his cheeks, and Jeongguk counts the freckles that adorn the bridge of his nose and high cheekbones, endeared by their presence.

Jimin is painfully beautiful, and not just in the physical sense. It’s what lies beneath that Jeongguk is far more attracted to, drawn to the characteristics and attributes that make up the faucets of his personality, admirable in his selflessness and the fierceness of his affection. Not for the first time does he question his good fortune, unsure how someone like Jimin ended up here, in his bed, with him. 

"I know your weakness."

The raspy voice pulls him from his musings, and Jeongguk’s mouth falls open at being caught, though Jimin’s eyes remain closed. Even so, he’s sure that he has somehow managed to give away his innermost thoughts without saying a word, and panic begins to set in.

“My weakness?” he whispers, noting his own husky cadence, and hoping he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. 

“Mmhmm.”

Jimin shifts, indulging in a slight stretch before elaborating, and Jeongguk’s arm tightens around him in an almost automatic response when he moves too far away, not yet ready to let him go, watching as his lids finally slide open to reveal the deep hypnotic shade of his eyes. 

“All I have to do is play with your hair for five minutes and you’re out.”

Relief rushes through him like a tidal wave, and he’s so giddy with it he can’t help but release a stilted laugh. 

“Does it really count if I told you about it myself?”

“Of course it counts,” Jimin answers, bottom lip protruding slightly and drawing Jeongguk’s gaze. 

What he wouldn’t give to take that lip into his own mouth, worry it with his teeth a bit before soothing it with his tongue—

“Speaking of your hair,” Jimin giggles while he looks up. “It’s a bit wild right now.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, hands reaching to smooth it down, fingers sinking into the strands and scratching blunt nails over his scalp until Jeongguk’s eyes nearly roll up in pleasure. 

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“I am, yes.”

Jeongguk giggles despite himself, tilting his head to give Jimin better access when an annoying itch makes itself known. His arms, however, are in use, and he would rather suffer than remove them from around the body he’s wrapped up in.

Instead he sniffles, nostrils flaring, nose scrunching several times in an effort to take care of it on his own when Jimin notices.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he murmurs, and then quickly changes his answer, feeling silly. “My nose itches.”

A delighted smile tugs at Jimin’s lips, and Instead of shifting so that he may regain use of his limbs, his hands come down from Jeongguk’s hair, the smooth nail of one finger scratching along the columella. 

“Here?”

Jeongguk hums in gratitude, sighing once the itch is relieved.

“Better?” Jimin asks, smile widening when he nods in answer.

“Much better, thank you.”

Ridiculously, the older man then boops him, and Jeongguk can’t help but guwaff.   

“Call me strange if you want, but I am ridiculously fond of your nose.”

“Just my nose?” he wonders, covering up his nervousness with genuine amusement.

“Of course not,” Jimin reassures, finger moving to drag over his lower lip, purposefully tugging it down. “I’m also fond of your bunny teeth, too.”

Said bunny teeth snap at Jimin’s finger, making him squeal and quickly he moves his hands out of the way, deciding they’re much safer if they return to his wild hair, tugging at the strands and massaging his scalp, immediately making Jeongguk docile and sleepy, a moan escaping past his lips.

 

“You’re gonna make me fall asleep again.”

“Good. You could use the extra rest. When we wake up for the second time, I’ll make us breakfast.”

We.

“You’re gonna make me breakfast?” 

“Mhm.”

“Marry me.”

“I have to talk to my parents first.”

Jeongguk chuckles, barely able to keep his eyes open anymore as he uses the last of his strength to pull Jimin even closer to him. 

°•🎨🖌•°

The second time Jeongguk wakes he’s slow to do so, the sensation of something soft tracing along his brow, coupled with a sing-song voice eases him gently from sleep. When his eyes open, Jimin is already smiling down at him, finger smoothing away the furrowed lines of his frown. 

“Hello again sleeping beauty.”

Jeongguk’s stomach swoops, flips and spirals out of control, a blush decorating his skin and seeming to endear himself to Jimin further, that finger moving to the heat of his cheeks.

“Morning,” he mumbles back, body tensing in a stretch. “Time is it?”

“Ten twenty-three.”

He has class at noon. 

If he decides to go.

Staying here with Jimin in this bubble they’ve created sounds far more appealing, though. 

“You snore in your sleep, did you know?” 

Jimin grins while revealing that particular truth, and Jeongguk’s lips part in mock-offense. 

“I do not! I remain quiet and poised at all times.”

“You’re very loud, actually.” 

When Jeongguk’s face falls, overly dramatic, Jimin snickers, collapsing down on top of him with his quiet laughter. 

“Don’t pout,” the law student whines, already erasing said pout from his features and making his lips turn up in a smile. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s cute.”

“Snoring is cute to you?”

“You’re cute to me.”

The easy admittance makes Jeongguk’s eyes go wide, body stilling while Jimin’s smile grows, amusement clear in his voice. 

“You’re so red right now.”

“Of course I am.”

“Cause I said you’re cute?”

Jeongguk shrugs.

“Maybe.”

“And look at you, continuing to be cute.”

Jeongguk’s lips purse.

“I think you just enjoy flustering me.”

“I think we’ve already established that. Now, what do you want for breakfast?”

“You really don’t have to—”

Jimin’s finger presses softly against his lips, accompanied by a quiet, “Shhhh,” and Jeongguk falls silent, blinking up at him. 

“No arguing.”

“I’m not arg—”

“No objections. I’m gonna use your bathroom really fast. Do you have a spare toothbrush?”

Jeongguk remains silent, and Jimin giggles as he removes his finger from his lips. 

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“Should be one in the drawer,” Jeongguk answers with a smirk, enamored with him and his addicting presence and energy. 

“Okay. I’ll brush my teeth, then you can go, and afterwards we can have a look in your fridge. Does that sound like a plan?”

With an obedient nod, Jeongguk watches Jimin climb off of him and slip from his bed, running a hand through his still wild hair as he watches him walk away. 

°•🎨🖌•°

Lifting a spoon to his open mouth, Jeongguk hums in appreciation, shifting on his stool at his little island counter as he chews. Across from him, Jimin smiles as he watches, and it’s so wide he seems almost in danger of bursting into laughter. 

“Is it good?”

Jeongguk swallows and gives an adamant nod.

“Delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

“I make a mean bowl of cereal.”

They both choke on their amusement, in Jeongguk’s case, almost quite literally when he takes another bite, the cereal going down wrong. He pounds on his chest until he’s able to breathe properly, Jimin still staring at him with a sparkle in his eyes as he cradles his own cheek in a palm.

“To think, you could’ve been eating gyeran-bbang right now.”

“I didn’t realize I needed to go to the store. I’m usually too distracted to think about that stuff until it’s too late.”

“Maybe next time.”

Jeongguk looks up from his cereal, eyes wide as he takes in Jimin’s confident expression, searching for some kind of confirmation. 

Next time.

As if Jimin has plans to sleep over again and make him breakfast. Is that what he means? Is he insinuating—

His cough echoes in the apartment, Jeongguk clearing his throat while he tries to keep from hyperventilating. He really shouldn’t overthink anything. It’s not good for his health.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he finally promises, and Jimin’s brows rise in curiosity at the words, intrigued. 

“Oh?”

“I can go to the store after class. Make you dinner tonight.”

“You want to make me dinner?” he asks, clearly taken aback, as if the idea is unheard of, and that emboldens Jeongguk further. 

“Of course. Tell me what you like. Anything at all, I’ll make it for you.”

“You’re kidding.”

There’s that disbelief again, as if no one in Jimin’s life has ever offered to pamper him. Take care of him. Jeongguk wants to do all of that and more.

“I’m quite serious.”

“Well…aren’t you too good to be true,” the older man murmurs, clearly trying to keep things light, but it still has Jeongguk’s cheeks turning pink. “Kimchi-jjigae, and samgyeopsal.”

He beams at him when he gets his answer. 

“Good choice,” Jeongguk compliments, the two sharing another smile.

Jeongguk watches Jimin bring a spoonful of his own cereal to his lips when there’s a knock on the door. A frown takes over both of their features, but Jeongguk slides off of his stool and moves to the entryway. 

When he pulls the door open, Taehyung is on the other side, pointedly looking at the rumpled clothes he slept in with a raised brow. 

“Trying to ditch class again?”

“Yes. What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you don’t ditch class again.”

Taehyung’s eyes cut to the left to look just behind him, mouth falling open at what he sees, and Jeongguk knows he’s just spotted Jimin.

“Hi Tae,” he calls out in greeting, and Jeongguk feels a rising panic at the complete look of shock the photography major wears while he numbly waves back, knowing that it’s very likely he’s come to the wrong conclusion, and is proven right when he speaks again.

“Oh, wow…I didn’t realize. Sorry to interrupt,” he says with such sincerity, lips turning up into a boxy grin. “But it’s about time. You two,” he trails off, shaking his head while chuckling, and Jeongguk desperately tries to silently signal him with a fervent; but slight, shake of his head, eyes wide, lips forming a plea for him to desist. 

“I was beginning to think you would never—” 

He stops suddenly, finally taking in Jeongguk’s requests to cease, his eyes once again flying over Jeongguk’s shoulder to where Jimin is, expression falling. Jeongguk follows his gaze, looking in that direction and swearing he sees Jimin’s face smooth out, feigning nonchalance as he busies himself with his cereal again. 

“Right,” Taehyung draws, clearly feeling off-footed. “Um…I mean, I was beginning to think you would never make it to class. That’s why I’m here. To force you to go,” he finishes lamely, and Jeongguk hears the sound of a spoon dropping against ceramic, and he steps away from the door, allowing Tae entry as he looks back at Jimin. 

“Sorry,” the law student says with regret as he slips off of his stool. “I just realized that I have to—I should go. I have a lecture at one, and I need to get cleaned up and get my stuff ready for tonight.”

“Right,” Jeongguk agrees in the hopes that it hides his immense disappointment, the idea of Jimin leaving now feels as if a piece of himself is also being taken away, but even so he puts on what he hopes is a brave face. “I’ll walk you out.”

Quietly, Jimin gathers his bag and yoga mat, giving Taehyung a quick hug goodbye when he passes, whispering in his ear before moving away. Jeongguk watches while he quickly slips his shoes on, then leads him outside of the studio, trying not to let his expression slip and give himself away. 

When they go out into the hall, Jeongguk closes the door behind them in a bid for privacy, and the two shuffle their feet, an awkward air settling now that their bubble has burst, the little world they created for themselves vanishing. 

Suddenly finding his fingers fascinating, Jeongguk keeps his head down, swallowing that familiar fear of rejection in an effort to voice his sincerity. 

“This has been one of the best mornings I’ve had in a long time. One of the best nights, too.”

Tentatively, his gaze travels up, trying not to dwell on how open Jimin looks. How vulnerable and receptive as he continues. 

“You’re always so generous. With your time and affection, and I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me. I know I’m a bit withdrawn sometimes, but I hope that I’m able to return that to you. I’ll keep working at it, until I’m able to make you feel the way you make me feel.”

When their gazes meet, Jeongguk is caught off guard by the brightness of Jimin’s eyes, shimmering and catching in the light, as if filled with moisture. A gasp escapes his parted lips when Jimin drops his things to the ground, moving forward quickly to encircle Jeongguk in his arms, one small hand burying itself in his loose hair again while the other digs into his shoulder, almost like he’s scared he’ll disappear if he lets go. 

Jeongguk’s arms come up of their own accord, securing their bodies together even tighter, his hand cradling the back of Jimin’s head gently, breath hitching when the older man presses his face into his neck, warm breath tickling his skin.     

“You already do,” Jimin whispers against him, evoking a deep shiver throughout his form as they stand there in the quiet, neither one of them appearing to want to let go. 

Jimin is the one who pulls away first, slowly, reluctantly, as if giving himself more time to change his mind.

But he doesn’t.

With a sigh, he pointedly doesn’t look back at Jeongguk until he steps away and regathers his things. Only then does he glance up at him, a bittersweet expression taking over his features that Jeongguk desperately wants to soothe away, until he wears the same happy, light-hearted expression he did during their time together.

Short goodbyes shouldn’t feel like final farewells, and Jeongguk has never experienced such a sensation when parting from past friends, lovers, boyfriends. He’s always valued his time alone. But with Jimin, everything seems heightened, and there’s this almost foreign desire to just be in each other’s presence, whether they’re actively doing something together or not.  

“I’ll see you tonight,”  

“Tonight,” Jeongguk repeats, self-comforting himself.

It’s only a few hours, after all. He only has to wait a few hours…  

Fuck, he’s in way too deep, and he finds he’s more than okay with that.

Jimin musters up a small smile before he turns and walks away, and there’s a sharp pain in Jeongguk’s chest, a desire overtaking him that immediately wants to call the other back. Teeth sinking into his bottom lip to keep silent, Jeongguk turns and walks into his apartment, instead, head hanging, mood substantially lowered.

“Wow. You look depressed,” Taehyung slurs around a spoon, mouth full as he finishes off Jeongguk’s cereal. 

Directing a glare his way Jeongguk begins stress cleaning, putting away the milk and cereal as well as stacking the dirty dishes in the sink; including the bowl Taehyung is still eating out of. 

“Hey! What did I do?” The photography major grumbles, and Jeongguk huffs, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“Again, everything was going perfect, and then you showed up.”

“Rude,” Tae huffs, picking at his nails. “Need I remind you, I wouldn’t have felt the need to drag you to class if you, you know, managed to go by yourself.”

Jeongguk lets go of a long weary sigh and collapses onto a stool, fingers smoothing over his forehead. He’s right, after all. But still, it doesn’t put an end to the loss he feels over what could’ve been if they hadn’t been interrupted. 

“So,” Taehyung starts, unsubtly. “Judging by your panic earlier, I read the room wrong and Jimin didn’t stay the night?” 

He sounds a bit confused on that front. 

“No, he did stay the night.”

“Oh—wait, what?”

“He stayed the night, but nothing happened.”

Taehyung blinks at him, appearing as if he’s trying to puzzle out a riddle. 

“So he stayed the night… platonically ?”

“Yep. Helped me fall asleep, and I asked him to stay so he did.”

“Right,” he drawls, “And you two are still just…friends?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay then.”

Jeongguk knows it’s ridiculous from an outside perspective, but he doesn’t want to rush anything. He wants to do things right with Jimin. Wants to actually build something with him. Something with a strong foundation that’ll last, and maybe tonight can be the start of that— 

“You realize you haven’t been to the coffee shop lately?”

“So?”

“What do you mean so? You used to go every day, sometimes twice a day and now you’ve just stopped.”

“I’m saving money this way. And I’m busy.”

“Busy trading one addiction for another?”

“I wasn’t addicted to coffee.”

“But you’re addicted to Jimin?”

“You’re making it sound weird. 

Taehyung lifts a brow at him, pointedly staring. 

“Yesterday I walked into an apartment covered in artwork you did in a matter of hours instead of sleeping. I know how you fixate.”

“It’s more than that.”

“More than a fixation? So you are in love with him then.”

“You make me want to resort to violence.”

“I don’t think you could in your state. When’s the last time you slept?”

“Last night. I slept the whole night through,” he answers with a dopey smile, remembering the bewitching effect of Jimin’s fingers in his hair— 

“You look like a lovesick fool.”

Glaring at the other, Jeongguk says rather maturely, “It takes one to know one.”

“You didn’t deny it,” Taehyung calls, pointing an accusing finger at him, eyes wide with shock.

Jeongguk doesn’t deign to answer, just finishes putting everything away before walking towards the dresser in his “bedroom” so that he can pick out his clothes with enough time left to shower, get ready and make it to his afternoon class. He decides on a pair of form-fitting black pants that’ll pair nicely with his high-top leather boots. For his shirt, he picks a matching black tee, though the majority of it is taken up by a futurism painting, mostly abstract in nature but full of enough bright color to draw the eye. 

Jeongguk takes a quick perfunctory shower and dries thoroughly, throwing his clothes on in record time. He tames his hair by brushing it into submission, separating the damp strands into two parts, tying the top half up in a ponytail and letting the remainder hang loose but out of his way. 

“Wanna move your desk back while I’m here?” Taehyung asks, motioning to it, and Jeongguk eyes the clock in consideration before nodding, a bit of his annoyance towards the other dissipating with the offer to help. 

When the desk is back where it belongs, Jeongguk grabs his keys and his bag, begrudgingly meeting Taehyung in the entryway in order to put on his shoes. The photography major is almost smug when he looks down at him, and just like that, Jeongguk’s irritation has returned. 

“Ready?” he asks, once his boots are laced up.

“I hate you.”

Taehyung opens the door for them both with an unbothered grin while Jeongguk regains his feet. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.  

°•🎨🖌•°

His classes aren’t too terribly long, and as soon as Jeongguk is free he walks to the nearby corner market, picking up everything he’ll need for kimchi-jjigae, as well as some pork, bread and eggs, Jimin’s offer to make him gyeran-bbang not forgotten.

He also stops by the coffee shop on the way home, getting an Americano to go and snapping a picture of it to send to Taehyung, just to spite him.

When Jeongguk lugs his bags and coffee home, he quickly checks how he’s doing on time, wanting everything to be ready and served when Jimin arrives. 

He goes about preparing his ingredients first, cutting the kimchi into bite size pieces, and in opposition, slicing the tofu into thick squares. He tears up when he cuts into the onion, suddenly homesick and wondering how his mother is doing.

He needs to call her soon. 

Setting aside his green onions to slice next, he grabs the salt, sugar, gochugaru, gochujang, and sesame oil to sort out on the counter. 

He works quickly, remembering all the times he watched both his mother and grandmother make the dish, filling up a pot with water and the necessary ingredients to boil. They’ll need to do so for twenty minutes, at least. He fries up the meat while he waits, wanting to add some to the stew, leaving the rest for the side dish. 

He gets lost in it, deciding that cooking is an artform in itself, and though he doesn’t get many opportunities to do so, he does enjoy it. 

Jeongguk finishes plating everything and setting it on his little island counter when his doorbell chimes, instantly causing his heart to pound an unsteady rhythm against his chest, palms sweaty.

When he answers the door, his breath catches in his throat, taking in Jimin’s appearance on the other side. His cheeks are flushed prettily, likely from the chill in the air, eyes wide and sparkling. He wears tight black jeans himself, coupling it with a white knit sweater that sports a low hanging neckline and chelsea boots. There’s a long coat thrown over one arm and a bag in the other, as well as what appears to be a sword and scabbard hung securely over his shoulder. 

He looks—

“Amazing.”

Jimin lifts a brow at him, seeming to be slightly confused, and Jeongguk shakes his head, stammering when he clarifies. 

“Y-You look amazing.”

Those flushed cheeks get even redder, the less encumbered hand coming up to sweep his long dark hair behind his ear. 

“Thank you. You look good as well.”

It’s Jeongguk’s turn to be bashful, and he watches as Jimin’s nose twitches cutely, excitement flitting over his expression. 

“That smells wonderful.”

“Oh, right,” he quickly moves aside, motioning Jimin in. “Dinner is ready.”

Taking Jimin’s coat, bag and sword for him while he removes his shoes, he places everything carefully in the entryway closet, hanging up his coat on a spare hanger while waiting for him to be finished, leading the other into the kitchen once he does. 

“Oh wow, Jeongguk-ah. Everything looks so good.”

His hand goes to the back of his head at the compliment, ruffling the loose strands there and mumbling his gratitude over the praise. 

“I thought it would be better to eat first and paint after, that way we won’t have to stop once we start.”

“Good idea,” Jimin praises, taking a seat at the counter in front of an already made-up plate.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“What do you have?”

“I just bought some wine, or there’s water, banana milk—”

“Wine sounds good.”

Jeongguk nods, going to uncork the bottle. He doesn’t really have any fancy glasses, but he does have a set of matching cups that’ll have to do. When he finishes pouring one for each of them, he moves back to the island, placing one before Jimin and humming at his quiet ‘thank you,’ before climbing onto his seat with a small sip.

Instead of taking his own chopsticks in hand, he waits, watching in anticipation as Jimin’s mouth opens for his first bite. 

The law student’s eyes slip closed after his lips do the same, chewing while a loud, pleased rumble seems to emanate from deep inside his chest. As soon as his jaw stills, Jeongguk poses his question.

“Good?”

“Oh my god, the best,” Jimin praises, immediately taking another bite. “This is literally the best kimchi-jjigae I’ve ever had. Don’t tell my mom, though.”

“I won’t,” Jeongguk chuckles, finally allowing himself to take a bite of his own share. 

It’s not too bad, really, if he does say so himself.

“I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

“Of course,” Jeongguk swallows. “I was happy to do it.”

Jimin beams, eyes sparkling in that particular way they do, and Jeongguk can’t help but smile back.

“How was your day,” he asks a few moments later, giving them both some time to savor the meal. 

Jimin takes a small sip of wine before answering. 

“Boring after I left. Today we went over some study material for the upcoming test. Some guides, that kind of thing. And you? How was your day?”

Jeongguk shrugs.

“Zoned out most of my class. I’m useless during lectures. Then I went to the store and began meal prepping as soon as I got home. That part was fun though.”

“Do you like to cook?” 

“I do. I don’t get to do it too often, but when I do I enjoy it.”

“You’re really good at it.”

“Something to fall back on in case the art thing doesn’t work out.”

“Please,” Jimin scoffs, shaking his head. “As if that would ever happen. You’re way too talented.”

Jeongguk’s ears burn before it steadily spreads to the rest of his face, Jimin’s eyes seeming to track its progression with a smile. 

“You really don’t handle compliments well, do you?” 

“I don’t handle your compliments well.”

“Mine? What makes mine so special?”

“Because you’re special,” he answers without thinking, hoping it doesn’t sound absurd, wide eyes taking in Jimin’s own surprised expression, quickly tacking on, “And I know they’re sincere if they’re coming from you.”

Taking another sip of wine, Jimin gazes at him from over the rim of his cup, setting it down almost deliberately slowly. 

"This feels like a date," he observes absently, and Jeongguk’s heart feels as if it stops.

His smile vanishes, nerves rising as if they’re steadily climbing the rails of a rollercoaster, waiting to encounter the drop and take the plunge.

He decides the plunge is a thrill worth experiencing.

"Would that be okay if it was a date? Would you want it to be?” he wonders breathlessly, sitting on the edge of his seat awaiting the answer.

Jimin’s gaze is intense, Adam’s apple quivering.

“Ask me,” he whispers, just as breathy, pitch lowered. 

Tentatively, Jeongguk asks him. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Another smile that is so blindingly beautiful takes over Jimin’s features, which soften as he gazes back at him. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And just like that Jeongguk is filled with a whirlwind of emotions ranging from relief to elation, happiness and anticipation, anxiety and excitement. It’s hard to believe it was that easy. So much so that he’s unable to keep the smile off of his own lips, and it’s so wide it’s nearly painful.  

“Just to warn you, it’s been awhile since I dated, and I was told I wasn’t any good at it.”

Jimin looks around at the food with a frown, clearly confused. 

“Whoever told you that is a bit out of touch.”

Jeongguk’s hand comes up to cover his mouth as he giggles, shaking his head while he looks down, slightly sheepish.

“I think you’re the only one I’ve ever cooked for, though.”

“Oh, so I really am special.”

“Of course you are.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to get all shy, which he hides behind another bite of food, humming again in pleasure at the taste. 

“You know, the first time we ate together was also the first time we worked on the acrylic piece. You wanted us to share the meal so I had to wear the blindfold, and you had to feed me,” he reminisces. “It’s like we’ve come full circle.”

“Not yet,” Jimin smirks, picking up a piece of samgyeopsal with his chopsticks and holding it up to Jeongguk’s lips. “You’re not blindfolded, but I can still feed you.”

His eyes stay focused on Jimin, and slowly he allows his lips to part, opening up for the cooked meat that Jimin gently guides inside. 

It’s an innocent act, for the most part. It has no right to feel this sensual.

But it does.

“Good?” the older man asks, and by the sultry grin he wears Jeongguk is sure he knows exactly what he’s doing, but he simply nods as he chews. 

“Delicious. I’m gonna eat all of it,” he murmurs, not looking away, and that knowing smirk grows, taking over Jimin’s pretty plush lips at the suggestion in his tone.

“Are you flirting with me, Jeongguk?”

He almost wants to revert to his default and deny it, make up some kind of excuse that takes the attention off of him—

“Yes,” he answers confidently instead, seeming to surprise both him and Jimin. “Is it working?”

“It’s working exceptionally well.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re you, and on top of all the amazing things that comes with, you made me my favorite food.”

“I like doing things for you.”

“You’re really trying to ruin me now, aren’t you?”

Jeongguk adamantly shakes his head in denial before thinking about it and changing his mind. 

“I only wanna ruin you in the best possible way.” 

“Oh? Do tell.”

“I wanna ruin you for anyone else.”

Jimin stares at him, stricken, and Jeongguk watches the way he struggles to swallow, his eyes flitting over Jeongguk’s face. 

“I think you already have.” 

The quiet after such a confession is compelling, expectant with infinite possibilities. 

“Good,” Jeongguk whispers, and though it doesn’t feel like it’s nearly enough—so many confessions resting precariously on the tip of his tongue—Jimin beams at him, clearly pleased as he offers another piece of meat, and Jeongguk greedily takes another bite. 

°•🎨🖌•°

Jimin is in the bathroom, changing into his dobok while Jeongguk sets up the large canvas in the living area, The piece taking up a lot of space on the easel, his paints arranged neatly on the usual side table next to the tea towels and paper towels. 

Jeongguk pins all of his hair back, making sure the shorter strands are secured down so they won’t become a nuisance later and looks to the rest of his supplies.

Jimin comes back into the room as he’s pulling his nitrile gloves out of their box, gaze fixed on him as if captured. 

He looks amazing in his Geomdo gear, sword secure at his side, almost like he’s traveled from another time.   

“You look so cool right now.”

“Don’t I always?”

“You’ve got a sword.”

Jimin picks up a paintbrush, eyes sliding up to Jeongguk with a grin. 

“Isn’t the pen mightier, though?”

Jeongguk chuckles, battling with the gloves before Jimin sets the paintbrush back down and encourages him to hand them over. 

When he does, he watches him open them and blow, the material expanding before Jimin picks up one of his hands, stretching the glove over it and sliding it down his fingers until it’s snug. He does the same for the other, and again, the simple innocent action takes on an almost intimate air. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, captivated by Jimin’s crescent moon lids when he smiles, the light catching on his pretty drop chain earrings. “You look good in these,” he quietly admits, gloved fingers coming up to touch the dangling chains. “All your jewelry actually,” he notes, taking in the crescent moon necklace that Jimin usually wears. “Suits you.”

“You’re flustering me now.”

“It’s okay, I don’t have to add it into the painting.”

Jimin giggles as he lightly hits his stomach, making him laugh harder when he groans in exaggeration. 

“Here,” he says suddenly as he remembers, pulling out his phone in order to show him a picture of the completed acrylic piece they worked on the last time; which is currently behind a bunch of other paintings waiting to be turned in and was too much of a bother to dig out. 

He zooms in on Jimin’s pose and shows it to him in order to refresh his memory.

“Are you ready for this?”

The older man makes an apprehensive face before grinning, setting the bag filled with the clothes he just changed out of on the ground, tucking it away. 

“I hope my balance is up to par today.”

“Take as many breaks as you need. I’m going to sketch you out, paint only the background that surrounds your form, and then you. The rest I’ll work on later, that way you’re not posing for hours.”

“Sounds good. Where should I stand? Here?”

“Back up a bit…perfect. Let me just finish getting ready and then we’ll start.” 

Jimin hums while Jeongguk puts his stained apron on and picks up a large bottle of turpentine, pouring a generous amount into a sturdy container before capping it back up and storing it away, nose scrunching at the smell. Picking up one of his favorite pencils, he turns back to Jimin with a look of concentration. 

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll begin sketching you.”

Jimin takes a deep breath, pulling the sword out of the scabbard as he steadies himself. He keeps his left foot flat on the ground, the right leg lifting in order to bend at the knee, resting the side of the foot against the thigh of the opposite leg to aid in stability, toes pointed down towards the floor. The left arm stretches out behind him, fingers spread, and the right one that holds the beautiful weapon is thrust forward. 

The visual of it is more magnificent to behold than the description he experienced the first time, Jeongguk unsure where to look first. Where to appreciate. The grace and strength it takes to hold such a position is not lost on him. 

Quickly, he shakes himself out of his stupor and begins to draw, just a preliminary sketch, nothing too detailed as he goes over Jimin’s silhouette and features. He keeps the pressure on the pencil light, the lines barely there as he gets the general shape down.

“I’ve got what I need,” he calls, continuing to add the finishing touches to the drawing but tells Jimin, “you can relax for now. I’ll let you know when you need to get back into position.”

Jimin’s leg goes down, arms lowering carefully before resheathing the sword.

“You’re all serious again,” Jimin notes in a faux gruff tone, grinning when Jeongguk breaks out into a smile. 

“That’s because I’m concentrating. Don’t distract me.”

“I would never.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Look, I’m just resting. Not distracting at all.”

“You don’t have to do anything to be distracting.”

Jimin gasps as if scandalized. 

“Are you flirting with me again, mister artiste?”

“I’m making up for lost time.”

Jimin smirks, shaking his head, but Jeongguk spies the flush that hides his cute freckles. 

“You are a charmer.”

He huffs in amusement, forcing himself to get back to work, even if he’d rather be bantering with Jimin.

When he finally sets his pencil down he pops his fingers before sending Jimin a sympathetic look.

“It’s a bit boring, but you can rest a little longer. Sit down if you like. I’m gonna complete the background around you and then move on to your form. I’ll let you know when I’m finished.”

Jimin collapses down into the chair he posed in for the first piece, a grateful sigh leaving his lips. 

“There’s nothing boring about rest,” he hums, and Jeongguk’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. 

He reaches for the acrylic paints, picking up that iceberg blue in order to outline Jimin’s form, creating a kind of aura around him. The paint is cold against his gloved fingers, but as he works it into the linen, it warms up.

“Maybe we should’ve eaten after instead of before.”

“Why, what’s wrong? Don’t feel good?”

The idea that his cooking might’ve had a negative effect on Jimin is mortifying.

“M’sleepy.”

Jeongguk can’t help but chuckle, relief filling him as he shakes his head. 

“Ahh, that’s right. Food is your weakness. All I have to do is feed you and you’re due for a nap.”

“You should test out that theory. Feed me all the home cooked meals, as many times as you have to to be sure.”

“Maybe I will.”

“I look forward to it.”

They stare at each other from over the canvas, and Jeongguk feels giddy with every new bold declaration they make, their mutual shyness and reservations no longer seeming to plague them into silence, and there’s a kind of freedom in being candid. 

Though his attention wants nothing more than to focus solely on Jimin; as it often does, he forces himself to once again concentrate on the task at hand, fingers swooping and tracing over the canvas, making sure the paint covers the area completely. 

It doesn’t take too long, but even so he’s glad to be able to give Jimin a short break. 

“Alright, I’m finished with that part.”

“I gotta get up now?”

“Unfortunately yes.”

Jimin sighs as if put out, but he’s still smiling when he gains his feet, effortlessly going back into his pose, elegant in the stance.

Jimin remains a distraction, because— 

How can someone be so beautiful?

“You’re staring.”

Jeongguk blinks.

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring and not painting.”

“Oh.”

“Is something wrong?” Do I need to move—”

“No! No, you’re perfect. You’re just—I lost my concentration.”

Jimin’s eyes slide to him, though he continues to keep the position effortlessly, a knowing smirk turning the corners of his lips up.

“Thinking about anything good?”

“You,” he blurts out, watching as Jimin’s smile widens incrementally. “Just that—you look incredible. I love this pose.”

Jimin seems to waver, almost wobbling where he stands before correcting himself.

“Yeah?”

 “Yeah.”

They grin at each other, the air charged, and Jeongguk has to shake his head, forcing his eyes back onto the incomplete painting. 

“Last time you said you felt like a superhero. Do you feel that way now?”

“I feel like I’m gonna fall.”

He barks out a laugh at the honesty, reaching for a peachy color that’ll compliment Jimin’s skin.

“You can put your foot down, for now. Just hold the rest of the position and I’ll let you know when I need it up again.”

Jimin puts his leg down, curling his cute bare toes and stretching the muscles.

Jeongguk taps into that laser-like focus he used to possess whenever painting, working his fingers over the sketch, reaching down for different shades as he needs them, building onto the acrylic and layering it, using the tip of his pinky to get into smaller areas of detail. 

The eyes and lips are a bit of a challenge in this medium, and so is the sword, but Jeongguk relishes a challenge and takes his time, not stopping until he’s satisfied, using an ivory color to emulate that sparkle in his eyes as well as the sheen on the metal. 

Dipping his gloves in turpentine and wiping them off on the stack of paper towels every now and again, he reaches for the darker shades. 

“Are you ready?”

“M’ready,” Jimin assures, looking somewhat tired but lifts up his leg. 

He works fast, painting in the dobok with quick strokes, layering on more shades of color as he looks between Jimin and the canvas. 

“Good. You’re doing really well.”

“You’re gonna make me fall.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re praising me. It’s wreaking havoc on my delicate sensibilities.”

Jeongguk’s fingers hover above the canvas, his eyes sliding back over to Jimin. 

“You like praise that much?”

“I do when it’s from you.”

“Oh? So I’m special then?" He asks, repeating Jimin’s earlier words, a smile in his tone. 

“Jeongguk?”

“Yes?” 

“Finish the painting.”

He snorts, but nods. 

“Okay.”

And finish it he does. Well, The part of the canvas that holds Jimin. The rest he’ll complete later. 

As soon as he removes his gloves and tells Jimin he’s done, he quickly lowers his foot with a grateful sigh.

“You alright?”

“M’fine,” he promises, sheathing his sword so he can shake out his hands and legs, wiggling both his fingers and toes enthusiastically. 

“Wanna come see?”

Excitement immediately floods Jimin as he comes over. 

“Of course I do.”

He rounds the large canvas, careful not to knock it off the easel as he takes it in. 

The air leaves him in an audible rush, wide eyes roving over the painting in a kind of wonder that Jeongguk could easily become addicted to, Taehyung’s earlier accusations ringing in his head. 

“This is…you’d think I’d be better at descriptions by now, but I can’t describe what this is. It’s not even finished yet and it’s already a masterpiece,” Jimin murmurs, causing Jeongguk’s fingers to tug at the hem of his shirt, suddenly bashful. 

Praise affects his delicate sensibilities as well.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, almost too soft to be heard, but from the way Jimin gazes up at him, he knows that he does. 

“Thank you.”

When Jeongguk raises a confused brow, Jimin elaborates, turning back to the canvas. 

“I get to see myself from your point of view.”

His smile is almost heartbreakingly sweet when he looks back up at him, and Jeongguk feels his himself melt, wanting nothing more than to pull him close and keep him in the safety of his arms to be ravished with affection. 

That’ll have to wait though, as Jeongguk is reminded of the semantics he has to take care of before he can do anything else. 

“Oh yeah,” he starts, reaching into the front pocket of his apron and pulling out a full envelope. “This is for today and yesterday. We didn’t get around to…I think we both kind of forgot.”

He hands over the money to Jimin, watching as he accepts it but makes no move to put it away, staring at the crisp white paper with a smug smirk.

“We were a little preoccupied with more important things.”

Jeongguk vividly remembers the sensation of Jimin’s fingers running through his hair, and a shiver wracks his body, wishing more than anything that he could experience it again. 

“We were,” he whispers, voice husky, and watches in a near panic as Jimin’s tongue traces along his bottom lip, blood heating at the sight. 

“T-Tomorrow’s the last day,” Jeongguk stutters in an attempt to distract himself, but it only has the adverse effect of not only making him sad, but terrifying him as well. 

He’ll have no excuse now to see Jimin everyday. He’ll have to somehow relearn how to go back to the way things were before, and that’s such an unappealing thought, he nearly grimaces. 

But Jimin’s small hand reaches up, tugging on a strand of hair that has fallen out of his ponytail with a smile gracing his lips. 

“Don’t look so upset, we’ll still see each other,” he reassures, almost as if he could read his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want more home cooked meals, and I’ll have to make sure you’re eating and sleeping as well.”

“I’d like that a lot.”

“I want more dates, too. And now that you won’t have to paint me after tomorrow, we’ll have a lot more time to focus on each other.”

Jeongguk does get closer at that, his hands hesitantly coming up to take Jimin’s in his own. 

“I’d like that even more.”

“Good.”

“And how would you say our first date went?”

“I don’t want it to end,” Jimin admits, and Jeongguk’s heart breaks at that, realizing how late it is, and that soon he’s going to have to go home. 

But he isn’t ready for that either. 

“It doesn’t have to.”

At Jimin’s hopeful expression, Jeongguk quickly blurts out a different option. 

“I probably won’t fall asleep if you go. You could…you could help me again. Fall asleep,” he elaborates, wanting the ground to swallow him up at how ridiculous he sounds. 

“You know, you’re right. We can’t have you exhausted again, it’s not good for your health.”

“Definitely not.”

“I should probably play with your hair a bit. Help you relax so you don’t stay up too late.”

“That’s a great idea. Would you like to borrow a change of clothes?”

“Yes please.”

Filled with giddy excitement, Jeongguk goes to his dresser, Jimin following close behind as he rifles through his options and picks out a soft white tee and some gray sweats for him to wear. 

He disappears into the bathroom with a smile, and Jeongguk spends his time waiting by cleaning up his materials, carefully disposing of the turpentine and making sure all of his paints are capped and put away as his ears pick up the sounds of Jimin brushing his teeth.

Jeongguk is finishing up just as he walks out, looking unbelievably good in the too big clothes, the shirt—which is large even when he wears it—practically hangs off of his small frame, and the bottom hems of the sweats engulf his feet entirely and drag along the floor.

“Your clothes are a bit big on me.”

“You look good,” Jeongguk responds, tone clearly appreciative, and he feels something ignite in him upon seeing him in the ensemble, coupled with Jimin’s shy blush.

He grabs something for himself to wear as well—basically the same combination that Jimin has on but his is all black—and heads into the bathroom. Jeongguk brushes his own teeth and gets changed, trying not to rush through the process in order to give himself enough time to gather his nerves.   

He’s spending the night with Jimin. Preemptively this time!

When he walks out after taking several deep, calming breaths, Jimin is already sitting cross legged on his bed near the headboard, and when he spots Jeongguk he pats his lap in invitation like he did the first time.

Jeongguk goes, obviously eager, and when he settles with his head pillowed against Jimin’s legs, a relief floods through him just to have him here. To not have to say goodbye, and when Jimin’s fingers card through his hair, gently removing the band and clips, it’s almost nirvana. 

A moan slips past his lips, but Jeongguk doesn’t allow himself to remain lost in the sensation. He wants to do something for Jimin as well. 

Hands coming up, his fingers knead into the defined muscles of the older man’s calves, massaging them and feeling Jimin jolt in surprise as he gasps. 

“What are you doing?”

“Wanna help you too. You were standing on one leg for a long time.”

“You wanna give me a massage?”

“Of course.”

Jimin is quiet for a moment, as if considering, and slowly he stretches out one leg, keeping Jeongguk’s head cradled against the other, allowing him easier access. 

His hand comes back to it, Jimin’s calf closer this time, and he hooks it over his shoulder so he can begin to work the muscle, hoping to relieve any tension or aches. Jeongguk’s eyes close as he gets lots in the movements, Jimin’s fingers working their magic on him and conjuring up an intense fatigue, and to heighten the feeling, the sound of countless drops of water suddenly beat against the glass of his windows. 

“It’s raining,” he slurs, happily cataloguing the amusement in Jimin’s voice when he answers. 

“It is raining.”

“Rain makes me sleepy too.”

“You’re just giving me all your weaknesses, aren’t you?”

“I have a few up my sleeve.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Tell me,” Jimin orders, his wicked fingers tugging at his strands with just enough force that it feels good, pulling another moan from him, persuasive. 

“I’m weak for you.”

It’s quiet, but Jimin’s ministrations never stop, so Jeongguk doesn’t worry too much. When a shadow falls over his face, his eyes slide open, and Jimin is there, leaning forward enough so that he hovers above. 

“Jeongguk?”

“Yeah?”

“May I kiss you?”

Jeongguk’s lips part in an overly loud exhale, but a sleepy smile born of overwhelming emotions blooms over his lips like a flower in spring. 

Rain showers bring spring flowers. 

“Please,” he whispers, elated as Jimin leans down further with the small plea. 

 

 

When their lips finally touch, it’s warm, soft and sweet, Jimin’s plush mouth slotting against his own perfectly, chaste and deliciously unhurried. But when his hands pull at his hair again, Jeongguk’s mouth opens to release a surprised gasp, Jimin's tongue taking advantage, curling almost hesitantly against Jeongguk’s lax lips as if asking for permission. 

Jeongguk eagerly grants it, his own tongue sliding against Jimin’s, fingers digging into the other man’s thighs in an effort to anchor himself. 

It feels unlike anything he’s ever felt before, a culmination of his very real feelings for Jimin and the patience with which he’s learned the extent of them, the time they’ve spent together, coupled with the unsurity of whether those same feelings could ever be requited, uncertain where they stood. 

Now that he knows Jimin feels for him as well, everything is brighter, and though he once found kissing to be awkward and not very enjoyable—like with most things—with Jimin it’s different, and suddenly he can’t get enough. 

Jeongguk lets the other guide him, Jimin exploring his mouth with a kind of fervor that makes Jeongguk dizzy, before it turns back into lazy exploration, and soon enough his tongue retreats entirely, and the kiss turns chaste again, small pecks peppering his face, the closed lids of his eyes, his nose, and bringing another tired smile to Jeongguk’s lips. 

When Jimin pulls away and straightens back up, Jeongguk can’t help but giggle. 

“You just spiderman kissed me.”

Jimin’s own amusement is audible in his voice when he answers. 

“I guess I did.”

“It was nice.”

“Yeah?”

"More than nice. It was…euphoric."

"Oh my. That's a big compliment, but I completely agree."

“I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

“What, like spiderman?”

Jeongguk shakes his head as he yawns, lids feeling too heavy to open, body sinking into the mattress further while the other continues to pet his hair.

“Like I’m loved.”

He’s almost asleep when he hears Jimin’s voice near his ear, trembling at the sensation, ambrosia filling his senses. 

“Jeongguk?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m gonna ask you to be my boyfriend.”

His eyes remain closed for now, but Jeongguk holds onto the tenuous grip he has on consciousness so that he can give his answer. 

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna say yes.”

Notes:

Beautiful artwork created by the talented JY and commissioned by my dear friend Juls. I'm so grateful, and cannot thank you enough for this gorgeous surprise.

Chapter 11: Oil Revisited

Notes:

It's still September 1st where I am, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNGKOOK!! This one's for you, and everyone else who waited patiently for the update <3

 

 

 

Jeongguk wakes up to the sound of sizzling and the smell of something delicious. 

He’s still a bit groggy. Too tired to put two and two together, and as such, reaches for Jimin when he stretches, eyes blinking open, vision blurry and an upset frown overtaking his features in response to encountering nothing but cold sheets. 

Movement in the kitchen draws his gaze and Jeongguk immediately relaxes, frown morphing into a tired smile while he watches Jimin sway, his back to him, standing vigilant in front of the stove with a spatula in hand. He’s humming softly, hips moving in lazy figure eights to the beat of his own melody, and Jeongguk falls infinitely harder for him. 

Quietly, he slips from his bed, bare feet knowing just where to press on the creaky hardwood so as not to give himself away. When Jeongguk approaches, he’s almost too endeared by the sight of Jimin that it physically aches, sleep rumpled and standing on one foot in his too big clothes, the other leg lifted, bent slightly at the knee and moving up and down so his cute toes can scratch the back of his calf. His shirt is hanging completely off of one shoulder, the waistband of the pants rolled up a few times so they don’t drag on the ground. 

Fuck, he looks good.

Jeongguk stands there gawking for long enough that Jimin turns around and discovers him, momentarily startled to see him there before his plush lips turn up in a grin, hip cocked, spatula held aloft. 

“See something you like?”

Jeongguk's chest constricts and subsequently shudders at the teasing question, heart fluttering and causing his voice to come out slightly breathless when he answers. 

“You have no idea.”

Jimin’s grin widens into a full-fledged smile, round cheeks turning a charming shade of pink when he uses the spatula to point at the stools that frame the island. 

“Have a seat. Breakfast is almost done.”

Jeongguk yearns to wrap him up in his arms, feel the soft heat of his skin against his own with the intent to hold each other and just be, but he does what he’s told, wanting to lavish Jimin in praise and appreciation for all the work he’s put into this gesture, getting up early and making them food when he didn’t have to. 

"These were in your cupboard by the way," Jimin informs him as an afterthought, once again using the spatula to point towards a pile of artwork and causing Jeongguk to scoff.

"Taehyung," he mutters beneath his breath, but Jimin still picks up on it.

"Taehyung put them there?"

"He was hiding them."

"Why?"

"Thought it would be awkward between us if you saw."

"Ohhh," Jimin hums, drawing out the word. "I thought it was strange that you suddenly didn't want me to see. You were so upfront about it before."

"You can look at them as much as you want. They're all of you," he candidly reveals. "Now I just have to find the rest of them."

Jimin giggles as Jeongguk takes a seat at the counter, bringing a smile to his own lips caused by the sound of his joy, while patiently waiting for a plate to be set before him, eagerly admiring the other the entire time. 

“You’re gonna make me drop something,” Jimin warns in amusement, and Jeongguk feels his smile widen further.

“Why? I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re watching me.”

“Can’t be helped. Look at you.”

“I’m dishing out food,” Jimin huffs, as if it’s an explanation as to why Jeongguk should find it boring, but Jeongguk would never take anything that the other does for granted.

“And you look gorgeous doing it.”

“ Stop ,” Jimin whines, hands going to his cheeks after setting his spatula down. “You’re flustering me.”

“Reciprocity,” Jeongguk beams, quoting Jimin. “I’m paying you back for all the times you did it to me.”

It causes an adorable pout to form, Jimin picking up two plates and bringing them over. He sets the one with the larger portion of gyeran-bbang in front of Jeongguk, the other plate he places in front of the empty seat next to his before moving around the island so that he can climb onto his stool. 

“Enough teasing,” Jimin orders once he settles, motioning towards the food. “Try it and tell me what you think. Honesty only,” he finishes with a stern finger, and Jeongguk nods solemnly before grabbing for the chopsticks. 

Once he tears a piece away, he eagerly slips it into his mouth, eyes fluttering as taste explodes onto his tongue. A pleased hum starts up at the back of his throat, chewing far too fast so that he can swallow it down and take another bite. 

Jimin watches him the entire time, and Jeongguk wonders why until he remembers he’s not supposed to be guzzling it down, but rather telling him what he thinks. 

“Are you kidding me?” he demands, brows furrowed. 

“You don’t like it?”

“Are you kidding me?” Jeongguk repeats, eyes narrowed. “This is delicious.”

Jimin appears relieved.

“I wasn’t sure. You look really angry while eating it.”

“That means it tastes incredible.”

“Oh yeah? You look mad when your food is good?”

Jeongguk nods, mouth occupied as he takes another large bite.

“Good to know,” Jimin smirks. “I’m glad you like it.”

He swallows, eyes softening with their sincerity. 

“Thank you for making it for me.”

Jimin’s own features turn fond, his gaze roving over Jeongguk’s face with a sweet smile. 

“My pleasure.”

They continue to eat, the sounds of appreciation the only break in the quiet. When Jeongguk’s eyes wander, they glance out the window, taking note of the dark, rolling gray clouds that take over the sky, though the rain has subsided for now. 

Looks like a storm is coming.

He finishes his food first, taking the plate to the sink and giving it a quick rinse before making a trip to the bathroom so that he can brush his teeth. When he’s finished, he switches places with Jimin, moving back to the sink, wanting to take care of the small amount of dishes that have accumulated. 

Jeongguk is nearly finished with the washing up when he feels arms encircling his waist, a warm body leaning into his own. Immediately, he washes his hands and shuts off the water, not wanting it to drown out the sound of Jimin’s voice if he wishes to speak. Wiping them off on a nearby towel, he runs his fingers over the other's arm, pleased when the simple caress raises goosebumps and waits. 

“Last night,” Jimin mumbles tentatively into his back, “I said I was going to ask you something.”

Jeongguk inhales a deep, warbling breath, the memory slightly fuzzy from his exhaustion, but it left its mark on him all the same. 

I’m going to ask you to be my boyfriend.

He goes to turn around, but Jimin’s arms tighten, the muscles visibly flexing as he forces him still. 

“Wait, just…don’t look at me. Not yet or I’m gonna lose my nerve.”

“Alright,” he easily agrees, wanting to make him as comfortable as possible.

“Okay,” Jimin starts with a deep breath, seeming to mentally prepare himself. “I know that you and I haven’t known each other for very long, and I completely realize this might be moving a bit too fast, so I understand if you have any reservations or want to slow things down—”

“I already told you my answer—”

“Hush. I have a whole speech planned.”

“My apologies. Carry on.”

Jimin takes another shuddery breath and continues.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m serious about you. You make me feel good, comfortable, and when I'm with you I’m always laughing and happy. I really really like you, and I want to pursue something if you feel the same.”

Jeongguk squeezes Jimin’s wrist, then slowly turns in his arms until they face one another, and he can see for himself how red Jimin's face has gotten, eyes shying away from his own. 

Reaching his hand up, Jeongguk gently grips his chin, encouraging him to meet his gaze, and Jimin does so beneath thick lashes, adam’s apple quivering. 

“I feel the same,” he assures, hoping it tempers his nerves. “I want to build something with you too. Something that’ll last.”

Jimin’s eyes brighten, small fingers gripping into Jeongguk’s shirt, and likewise, Jeongguk’s own hand comes up to frame his face in a gentle hold so that he may run the pad of his thumb just beneath Jimin’s eye.

“Ask me,” he orders softly, reminiscent of yesterday, when Jimin said the same to him in regards to their date.  

Breath hitching, Jeongguk watches as he gathers himself and asks. 

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

The hand he has on Jimin’s chin nudges his head up further, tilting it back just enough so that they can look at each other when he gives his answer. 

“God yes.”

Jimin surges up first, breaking from his hold in order to bring their lips together, and Jeongguk moans into the kiss, their bodies collapsing forward, but somehow they remain upright. Jimin’s tiny fingers continue to pull at the fabric of his shirt, Jeongguk’s arm coming down to cradle around his small waist where it rests over the burning heat of his lower back, while his other hand brushes just past Jimin’s ear, fingers sinking into the softness of his hair.

The smell of ambrosia makes him dizzy. 

They stumble, feet tangled together, and where Jimin pulls, Jeongguk follows. Little maddening sounds keep escaping from his lush lips that Jeongguk eagerly swallows down, slanting his mouth over the other’s, giving into that long since formed temptation to sink his teeth into Jimin’s plump bottom lip, devouring his moans as he worries the flesh, swiping his tongue over it to soothe. 

Jimin’s head falls back as soon as Jeongguk releases his mouth, breathing strangled, chest heaving. 

“I’m—fuck you’re making me so hot.” 

And Jeongguk feels it, pressing against the heat of his own arousal in the most delicious of ways—

—His doorbell chimes, the two of them frozen and panting in each other’s arms. 

“Don’t answer it,” Jimin whispers encouragingly, eyes flitting back down to Jeongguk’s lips while he licks his own, unconsciously leaning in again. But he stills when the knocking continues, more insistent this time, followed by a muffled, “I know you’re in there Jeongguk!”

The sound of Taehyung makes his body deflate, forehead falling to rest against Jimin’s own as he pulls him closer. 

“He’s not going to go away,” he warns. “Trust me, I’ve tried ignoring him before.”

“If you let him in he’s gonna know something is going on. Should we tell him, or try to keep it to ourselves a little longer?” Jimin asks, seemingly not wanting to push Jeongguk into something he isn’t ready for.

But he is. Fuck, he's so ready, and the idea of trying to hide what he has with Jimin from someone he cares about—whether it's a new development or not—just feels wrong to him. But he wants Jimin's input before they come to any kind of decision.

“I don’t want to hide it unless that would make you more comfortable? He already knows how I feel about you.”

Jimin’s eyes look bright, an emotion flitting over his features that Jeongguk can’t quite put a name to. 

“I don’t want to hide it either,” he confesses, as if guilty, and Jeongguk kisses him again for good measure.

They sigh into each other's mouths before Jimin reluctantly pulls away with an embarrassed smile, cheeks heated in a way that almost conceals his pretty freckles. 

“But I am gonna hide in your bathroom for a minute so that I can calm down.”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk asks, voice husky as his eyes travel the length of his body, his state of arousal clearly visible and affecting his own. “Did I get you worked up?”

Jimin’s own gaze slides down, that embarrassed smile turning smug. 

“As worked up as I got you.”

He leaves him there in the kitchen, Jeongguk’s head falling forward to observe his very obvious and defined hard-on pressing against the front of his sweatpants, all while Taehyung continues to rap against the surface of his door in the background.

Thank goodness for baggy clothes. 

The bathroom door closes as he subtly adjusts himself, making his way to his door on dragging feet. Giving himself an inner pep talk, Jeongguk takes two deep, calming breaths before pulling it open.  

“My god, there’s two of them.”

Taehyung and Seokjin eye him from the other side looking none too pleased. 

“What took you so long? Still sleeping?”

“Yes,” Jeongguk huffs, opening the door wider for them and watching as they shuffle in and begin to remove their coats and shoes. 

“Then why does it smell like you actually cooked for once?” Seokjin wonders, nose visibly sniffing the air.

“It’s called multitasking,” Jeongguk grumbles distractedly, looking towards his bathroom. 

Jin gives him a suspicious look at almost the exact same time Taehyung hums in recognition. 

“Jeongguk? Aren’t these Jimin’s shoes?”

Jeongguk’s gaze sinks down, eyeing the Chelsea boots that Jimin favors. 

“So they are.”

With that he leaves them in the entryway, going back to finish the small amount of dishes he has left to clean, watching out of his peripheral vision as the two surreptitiously search his apartment, overly obvious while they try to discern where Jimin could be. 

“What brings you two to my neck of the woods?” he calls, not only wanting to be heard above the flow of water, but subtly trying to warn Jimin in the bathroom of their presence. 

“Checking up on you,” Tae answers.

“We’re snooping,” Seokjin says at the exact same time, hissing when he receives a slap to the chest from the other. 

Jeongguk snorts and shakes his head, washing his hands before shutting off the water again and reaching for a nearby towel—

But then Taehyung approaches, pulling him into a hug much to Jeongguk's surprise. 

"I know you're busy, but we wanted to at least stop by today and see you."

Jeongguk remembers what day it is then, and he feels his heart constrict at the gesture, hugging him back before he slips away.

"And we wanted to snoop," Jin mutters, once again incurring Tae's wrath as he circles the island, brows pulled tight in a frown.

He’s about to reprimand the two of them when the door to his bathroom opens, and all eyes immediately turn to watch Jimin walk out with all the grace and poise that Jeongguk has come to admire.

“Good morning,” he says cheerily in greeting, feigning unaffectedness, but Jeongguk can see the hint of pink that still adorns his cheeks as he comes further into the room, bringing a pleased grin to his lips as the older man rounds the island counter so that they can stand close to each other. 

“Morning,” Taehyung murmurs with a raised brow, taking in Jeongguk's clothes hanging off of his slight frame, clearly suspicious. “Have another platonic sleepover, did you?”

“Not quite,” Jimin answers softly, eyeing Jeongguk from beneath his lashes as if he’s still a bit unsure, so Jeongguk moves in even closer to set him at ease, reaching for his hand and interlacing their fingers together to give it a gentle squeeze. 

Jimin squeezes back with a grateful smile.

“Actually, we’re together now,” Jeongguk reveals, turning to look at the other two in order to gauge their reaction, disconcerted when they break out into uncertain laughter. 

"Together like, in the same room, together?"

"No, together like we're in a relationship, together."

“Shut up, you are not,” Taehyung decides, shaking his head. 

“Yes, we are,” Jimin interjects, amusing Tae further. 

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“Babe,” Seokjin whispers out of the side of his mouth. “They both look pretty serious.”

The photography major turns back to them, staring holes into Jeongguk’s face, then moves on to do the same to Jimin before eyeing their hands, realization slowly dawning. 

“Fuck me, you are serious.”

“It’s not that unbelievable,” Jeongguk mutters, slightly offended when Taehyung gives a humorless laugh. 

“Please, you know how long I’ve had to listen to the two of you whine about each other, and yet refuse to make a move? I was sure you were going to be dancing around forever.”

“Well, we’re happy to prove you wrong then,” Jimin beams, and Jeongguk can’t help but give a smile of his own at seeing him so pleased.

He’s so fucking cute.

“Ugh, you two are already in that gross phase.” Jin grumbles, clearly not as thrilled that they’re finally in a relationship.

“Didn’t you two just make things official and move in together?” Jeongguk demands, pointing between them and watching as Seokjin gives an absent shrug. 

“We’re not gross, though. We’re adorable.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re—”

“Enough children,” Tae interrupts, his eyes still caught on Jimin and Jeongguk. “Tell me everything. Who confessed first. I want details.”

“Think we’ll keep that to ourselves for now,” Jeongguk decides, feeling Jimin give a relieved sigh next to him. “Everything is still really new, and we just want to enjoy it for a while.”

“Edgelord,” Taehyung mutters, but accepts it quickly, reminding Jeongguk why they always got along so well. “Fair enough. Are you coming to class?”

Jeongguk considers it, leaning towards no, but then Jimin nudges him and he relents. 

“Yes, I’m going to class.”

Tae beams, grinning as he wraps an arm around Jin’s elbow and tugs him towards the door. 

“We’ll get out of your hair, then.”

“What, we’re leaving?”

“Yep.”

“But we just got here.”

“And now we’re leaving.”

They shove their shoes on quickly, Jin cut off during his farewell as the door slams shut behind them. 

“They’re like a storm that rolls in, destroying everything in sight before vanishing again,” Jimin decides, and Jeongguk can’t resist any longer. 

He pulls him in flush against his body once more, lips teasing against the cut of his jaw, tracing along the shape of it as he creates a path to Jimin's mouth, heart racing when a groan rumbles deeply in the other man's chest. 

“I just got myself under control,” he pouts, causing Jeongguk to want to tease him even more.

“Oh? Are you whining right now?”

“And what if I am?”

“Good,” Jeongguk beams. “I like making you whine and lose control.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with my shy, sweet Jeongguk?”

He leans forward until their noses brush, a glint in his eye—

The front door flies open, the two of them turning when Jin cries out as if in surprised disgust, hand covering his eyes dramatically while he digs in Jeongguk’s entryway closet for the jackets they clearly left behind. 

“Sorry, lemme just—there.”

He fumbles for the doorknob and begins to pull it closed, calling back to Tae who is out of sight. 

“They’re kissing. You owe me a thousand won.”

They both gape after him, laughter bubbling up and out of their mouths as the moment is utterly ruined. 

Again.

“And on that note, I should go home and get ready for my own classes.”

It’s Jeongguk’s turn to pout, arms tightening around the other, not yet ready to let him go. 

“You sure you don’t wanna ditch with me?”

Jimin wraps a long strand of Jeongguk’s hair around his finger, and he thinks that it’s an apt visual to describe how far gone he is for the other, wrapped around Jimin’s tiny finger just like that strand of hair. 

“Don’t tempt me,” he orders, giving a small tug while placing a kiss on the tip of his nose, and Jeongguk releases him with a sad sigh. 

“I’ll be back tonight,”Jimin reassures with a grin, planting another sweet kiss near the corner of his mouth that Jeongguk doesn’t have time to deepen. “We can celebrate the end of your project.”

What a disconcerting notion, that something he’s poured everything into nearly every single day for the past two weeks is coming to an end. To distract himself, he takes in Jimin’s appearance as he continues to gather his things, a thought occurring to him.

“Are you leaving like that?” he asks with a grin, eyeing the way Jimin is practically engulfed in his shirt. 

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re still wearing my clothes.”

Jimin looks down, and Jeongguk can tell it’s an act when he tries to feign surprise. 

“Oh no, I forgot,” he drones, clearly doing a terrible job at sounding sincere.

“Liar,” Jeongguk smirks. “If you wanna take my clothes, go ahead.”

“They still smell like you,” Jimin reveals quietly, bottom lip protruding in the cutest way. “I’ll bring them back…in a few days.”

“I’m not complaining, I like seeing you in my clothes.”

“Wait till you see me out of them.”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen, a wheeze tickling at the back of his throat as he watches heat take over Jimin’s ears and face, his lush mouth falling open in mortification, almost like he can’t believe what he just said. 

“I am so sorry, I have no idea where that—I just—I’m gonna go now.”

Jeongguk watches as he tries to make a quick getaway, and he shakes off his surprise and strides over to him with a confidence that usually eludes him, carefully spinning the smaller man around with a hand on his arm until they face each other once more.  

Jimin acts like he doesn’t want to meet his gaze at first, but when he can take it no longer, he glances up at him, body shuddering on an exhale when Jeongguk leans down and closes the distance between them. 

“I’m dying to,” he whispers along the shell of Jimin’s ear, relishing in the way he continues to tremble in his hold. “Dying to see you, all of you . But I’ll wait as long as it takes, because you’re more than worth it.”

He kisses Jimin’s cheek as he pulls back, taking his bags in his own arms so that Jimin can put his shoes on in a bit of a daze, handing them over once he's done. 

The Chelsea boots look out of place when paired with Jeongguk's lounge clothes, and it brings a smile to his lips.

“I’ll see you tonight?”

“Tonight,” Jimin agrees after gathering himself, giving a small wave with his fingers. Then he turns and Jeongguk watches wistfully as he makes his way out of his apartment. 

°•🎨🖌•°

Those ominous gray clouds from earlier open up the skies just as Jeongguk makes it back home, and he narrowly misses getting caught in the downpour. He texts Jimin a quick message to be careful, receiving three red hearts back in response that twists his stomach in warm knots.

Fuck, he likes him so much.

To pass the time, he decides to finish up the projects he's left incomplete, starting with the digital painting before moving onto the acrylic, which has already dried.

There’s an anticipation in the air that physically aches the more the clock crawls closer to five. He’s already pulled his oil paints out, picked the exact same sized canvas as last time and primed it to be ready. 

A slight tremor runs through his hands, a shallowness to his breath and an excess of saliva pooling in his mouth. Little hints to mark how overwhelmed he is, a clear giveaway for anyone paying attention that he's so fucking nervous. 

Jimin will definitely notice. 

He redoes his hair, putting it back up in a neat ponytail, clipping his bows in as he paces the circumference of his apartment while it gets closer and closer to their allotted time. And when that gets old, Jeongguk makes his bed, again , situating the pillows neatly before fluffing them up, and ultimately redoing it.

He goes back to pacing, and on his third lap there’s a light knock.

Heart rate increasing, blood pressure rising, Jeongguk smooths down the plain white shirt he wears that he’s coupled with baggy jeans, moving quickly towards the door and calling out his customary, “Who is it?”

His voice is way too high.

“Jimin.”

Right. Of course…

Reaching out a shaking hand, Jeongguk pulls the door open, mouth falling at what he sees.

“You’re all wet.”

Jimin stands on the other side, dark hair plastered to his face, drops of rain gathering at the tips, falling like rivulets over his cheeks, lips and jaw, as well as clinging to his eyelashes until he wipes them away with an equally wet sweater paw.

“Forgot my umbrella, and no cabs would stop,” he reveals, shivering, and Jeongguk’s heart breaks. 

“Oh baby, come here.”

He pulls him inside and directly into his arms, uncaring that Jimin is practucally soaked, the water from his jacket seeping into Jeongguk’s own white T-shirt until it clings uncomfortably to his skin. But he could care less about that right now, just wants to hold onto Jimin for as long as he can, even as he realizes that he needs to get him out of those wet clothes. 

"Here, let’s take these off,” he encourages, pushing the jacket from his shoulders, Jimin holding his arms aloft behind him until it falls to the floor with a wet plop.

The sweater is the next to go, and beneath it is the thin red shirt with white stripes he wore the last time for the oil piece. Thankfully, it looks as if the jacket and sweater took on most of the rain, leaving his shirt relatively dry.

Jimin's gaze is zeroed in on his chest, tongue tracing his bottom lip as he murmurs distractedly, "I got you all wet too."

When Jeongguk looks down, he can indeed see the bare skin of his pecs visible beneath his own drenched shirt, the material thin.

“S'okay." Jeongguk promises, more worried about the smaller man than he is himself. “I’ll get you a towel,” he offers while Jimin removes his shoes in the entryway, quickly grabbing his thickest one from the bathroom before he returns. 

“Thank you,” Jimin murmurs, using it to soak up some of the water from his hair and jeans. 

“I have a blowdryer in the bathroom if you want,” he offers, eager to help, but not quite sure what to do.

Jimin smiles softly at him, the towel hanging over one eye and obscuring most of his face in shadow, but Jeongguk is so completely taken with how beautiful he is that he becomes slack-jawed.

“Okay. Give me a minute and I’ll be back.”

“Take your time,” Jeongguk calls when he remembers himself, watching as the door softly shuts behind him, eyes shifting over to one of his windows, amazed by the pelting force against the glass from the storm. 

He’s just putting his apron on when Jimin comes back out, his hair still damp, skin pale from the cold, and he seems almost nervous when their eyes meet from across the studio, creaky floorboards silent as he moves on bare feet with careful steps. 

“Did you want more time to dry off? Get warm?” Jeongguk wonders, concerned. “We could do this another time—” 

Surprise flits over his features when Jimin shakes his head no. 

“Want you to paint me like this.”

When the words sink in, Jeongguk’s lips part and refuse to come together again, speechless as he stares at him, bringing uncertainty to Jimin’s features.

“I look good wet, don’t I?”

“Good, yes. You look—wet,” he rambles nonsensically, words failing him while Jimin’s expression turns confident, plump lips sliding upwards in a sultry smirk. 

“Are you ready for me, then?”

Jeongguk can’t pick his jaw up off the floor, but he can still nod, motioning in the direction of the bed— his bed —as if Jimin doesn’t know where it is. 

When he makes his way over Jeongguk can’t help but watch him tousle the damp strands of his hair, climbing up onto the mattress and settling against the pillows, right where they fell asleep together the two previous nights.

It’s surreal. 

Somewhat numb, he pulls out his phone and locates the picture he took of his first attempt, his gaze shifting from the photo to Jimin. 

He knows he can just direct him verbally—even if he is having trouble articulating—but a very selfish part of him wants to do it the more intimate way.

“Can I touch you?”

Jimin’s tongue traces his full bottom lip again in an obvious habit, and Jeongguk wants to cry. 

“Please,” he whispers in answer, as if the context of the question is rooted in something far more erotic than it really is. 

He’s doing it on purpose. 

Jeongguk keeps his hand steady by sheer force of will as he reaches out, fingers trailing over the bare skin of Jimin’s left arm on the way to his wrist; which he gently encircles and guides up above his head, curving it around the top of his skull, palm up. He cards his fingers through the wet strands of his hair, making it so they lay fanned out just over the pale, delicate forearm. 

Setting his phone back into his pocket—the image already burned in his mind—Jeongguk encourages Jimin’s head to tilt back, neck arched, and it’s easy to discern that he struggles to swallow, pupils dilated when their eyes meet. He has to force himself to look away for the sake of his own sanity, hands snaking underneath Jimin’s right knee and lifting it all the way up to press near his shoulder, placing the arm on the same side to wrap around it, effectively pinning it in place. 

This feels far from innocent.

“Point your toes down,” he instructs, the cadence of his voice nearly drowned out by the pounding of the rain, but Jimin hears him and immediately obeys. 

“Good,” Jeongguk compliments, noting the way Jimin seems to quiver at the praise, and just like what is enfolding between them, it’s far too suggestive to not affect them in such a way.

But still, he shoves down the building desire and grabs onto the tattered remains of his concentration.

Bending the other leg at the knee, Jeongguk places that foot flat on the bed, slightly spread open from the other one, artfully splaying Jimin out on his blankets. For the final touch, he takes in Jimin’s rain damp shirt before he looks into his eyes again. 

“I have to…”

Jimin eagerly nods when he trails off, granting his permission, and Jeongguk’s hands lower with a slight tremor in them, fingers tracing over the shirt’s hem near his hip before he guides it up, up, up, Jimin releasing a hiss when their skin makes contact, his newly exposed abdomen shuddering in sensitivity, lashes fluttering. 

“There,” he whispers, removing his hand and backing away.  

Jeongguk’s eyes sweep over the final pose, heat burning in the pit of his belly at the visual of it. Of him . 

“Lower your eyes and part your lips for me…good. Relax. Try and get comfortable in the position.”

He watches as Jimin does just that, giving him a more open and soft appearance, confident in his pose.

“Perfect. Stay just like that.”

Jeongguk quickly returns to his easel where his canvas awaits and picks up the pencil he uses to sketch with, eyes shifting between Jimin’s prone form and the blank linen. 

He draws as if possessed, driven to capture every detail, minor or otherwise, desperate to do Jimin justice this time. 

“You look frantic,” Jimin notes, though not accusatory, and Jeongguk knew he would pick up on it.

“You look like a dream,” he fires back like it's a sensible answer, continuing to sketch at a fevered pace. 

Jimin giggles. 

“A wet dream.”

Jeongguk’s eyes slide closed, and he takes in several deep breaths in a bid to calm his racing heart. 

“You’re a menace.”

“So you’ve said.”

Jeongguk grins despite his nerves, continuing his motions, and Jimin points it out again.

“Why does it seem like you’re rushing?”

“I’m not trying to, I’m just excited to paint you like this,” he admits, not ceasing.

Jimin’s smile is sweet when he answers.

“You can take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”  

They share a look, and Jeongguk feels an inexplicable relief fill him at the simple declaration, continuing to work at a much more manageable pace. 

Throat tightening, he draws out Jimin’s form, the pose provocative, Jimin practically holding himself open for an unseen lover that he invites with both the powerful intensity of his gaze as well as the seductive manner of his body, and even though he’s fully clothed, it feels as if Jeongguk shouldn’t be allowed to look at him, as if he's intruding.

“You’re blushing,” Jimin smirks, clearly smug. 

“Yep.”

“Why?” Jimin drawls, batting his lashes at him.

“Do I need to put a mirror in front of you so you can see why?”

“But you already painted me like this once before.”

Jeongguk snorts.

“While my imagination is a powerful thing, it’s nothing in comparison to actually seeing you like this.”

“Is it affecting you that much?” 

“ You affect me that much,” Jeongguk corrects. 

“Do I?”

He sounds breathless, tongue peeking out to trace his bottom lip again while he awaits an answer he must already know.

“It’s a recurring theme with you.”

Jimin’s body seems to waver, and he shifts slightly before getting comfortable again. 

“I can empathize, because I know exactly how you feel.”

At the easy confession, Jeongguk’s lips turn up in another flustered smile, and he can’t help but give a minute shake of his head. 

“You’re not making this easy for me.”

“I can make it infinitely harder,” Jimin warns, and the huskiness of his tone speaks to the innuendo he’s either purposely or unknowingly made.   

“Don’t you dare,” Jeongguk growls, delighting in Jimin’s amused giggles as he goes back to completing his linework. 

It’s impossible to calm down, every glance—no matter how brief—in Jimin’s direction elicits desire in him that feels too vast for his body to contain, and he’s set in another tailspin where he physically and visibly reacts, all while Jimin picks up on it, his smile a dead giveaway. 

“Do you need a break? I’m gonna start painting next.”

“Why don’t you take a break and come over here with me,” he suggests, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, delighted by the mischief he causes.

“Stop it,” Jeongguk orders, pointing the chewed end of a paintbrush at him, trying to keep a hold of his giggles and failing when Jimin gifts him with a look of feigned innocence.

“I’m not doing anything!”

He raises a brow at the weak response and watches the way Jimin fails to keep his own composure, the two of them laughing like fools.

Jeongguk gets his paints ready, preparing to work on the background before he'll move on to Jimin’s form, and he can’t help but press just a bit, wanting to see how he’ll react. 

“I should’ve known you’d be a handful when you chose this pose.”

“Oh, I’m a handful alright,” Jimin beams. “But your hands are big enough to handle me.”

Jeongguk hisses, nearly snapping his paintbrush in half as he mixes his colors. 

“I’m about to punish you.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I will.”

Jimin snorts into an amused laugh, shaking his head as he momentarily loses his pose.

“We sound ridiculous.”

“ We?”

“I said what I said.”

Jeongguk huffs in amusement, mixing his paints on his pallet for the sake of his own sanity. Embarrassingly enough, he’s been half-hard since Jimin walked out of his bathroom wet and asked him to paint him as such, and the entire evening afterwards has been nothing but a battle of wills that he is steadily losing. 

“Ready?”

Jimin grins, a glint in his eye.

“Ready.”

He begins to paint, looking over at Jimin in quick intervals for his own sake, afraid that if he lingers too long this will never get done. The rain pelts against the glass of his windows, his wet paintbrush slopes over the canvas, the linen humming as it does, and through it all Jimin’s breath hitches periodically to mingle with the cacophony of the soothing sounds as if he can’t help it.

“Jeongguk-ah?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re so pretty when you paint.”

Jeongguk keeps his eyes on his canvas, but his lips give a wide smile, cheeks turning red with the compliment. 

“Jimin-ah?”

Again, Jimin’s breath stutters. 

“Yes?”

“I’m going to gag you.”

“Do you think that’ll add to the piece?” he ponders curiously, and Jeongguk’s cheeks hurt so bad from smiling he almost reaches up to touch them.

“It would definitely help me finish faster.”

“If it’ll help you, I’m open to it.”

Jeongguk is about two seconds away from falling off of his stool, and he’s never felt this exhilarated before. This…happy. 

They sink back into a comfortable silence, the law student finally letting him work in peace, when the sound of thunder echoes in the apartment.

It stills them both, their gazes gradually drawn to the window.

“That sounded close,” Jimin murmurs, brow furrowed in concern, and a strange realization settles in Jeongguk’s head.

“Are you afraid of thunder?”

“Afraid? No. Maybe anxious is a bet—”

Lightning illuminates the studio in a brief flash, and Jimin’s eyes go wide, face draining of color while Jeongguk watches as his grip on his leg tightens further, knuckles gone white.

“Jimin?” he asks, concerned, but it’s almost like he doesn’t hear him, face frozen in obvious anxiety.

He sets his paintbrush down and throws off his apron, about to go over to him when another roar of thunder booms in the studio, followed immediately by lightning, the electricity flickering before the room is plunged into darkness, and Jeongguk swears when his hand smears along the paint he just mixed in his pallet, covering his palm in a plethora  of colors. 

But he doesn’t have time to think about that now, because Jimin lets out the tiniest whimper in the dark, and Jeongguk immediately moves to his side. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, worry laced in his tone while his eyes try to adjust. 

Jimin hums, a sound that isn’t all that convincing, and Jeongguk curses again as he wrangles his phone out of his pocket with his clean hand, waking the screen up and turning on the flashlight. 

Jimin doesn’t even squint when the beam hits his eyes, and Jeongguk climbs up onto the bed, apprehension filling him when he notices that the older man hasn’t even moved out of his pose, though it’s clear by his pallor and the intensity of his grip that he is afraid. 

“Jimin? Come on, baby. You can stretch out now. Try and relax.”

“But…what about the painting?” he asks, his eyes finally finding him as awareness sinks in. 

“The power is out. Besides, the painting can wait. Wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“M’fine,” he answers, the mask slipping when Jeongguk gazes down at him imploringly. “Storms make me nervous,” he mumbles, seeming embarrassed, and when thunder rumbles once more, Jeongguk takes his hand in his own, and pulls him into his chest in the hopes that he can offer comfort. 

“Wanna help you. How do we take your mind off of it?”

Jimin pulls back slightly, shoulders near his ears as the apartment is lit up with lightning, and Jeongguk can’t look away from him. The way his eyes are wide, pale cheeks flushed, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He’s so fucking pretty, and Jeongguk’s own heart hammers in his chest when he realizes Jimin’s gaze is drawn to his mouth. 

 

 

“You could…you could kiss me—if you want to.”

The request has Jeongguk’s brow furrowing, afraid of taking advantage when he’s vulnerable. 

“We don’t have to do that now. We can think of something else—”

“I can’t stop thinking about your lips on mine. Keep replaying our kiss from this morning and last night in my head," he abruptly reveals, fingers gripping onto Jeongguk's shirt. "It’s never felt so good to just kiss someone before.”

Jeongguk’s breath hitches, body roused in stimulation, and he hasn’t even been touched yet, not that that matters, because all he can focus on is Jimin’s confession. 

“Yeah?”

He feels ridiculous, knows that he should be saying more, but Jimin doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Yeah. I don’t want to rush things. I know it’s fast…but fuck, I just wanna feel you again.”

Swallowing is difficult, words even more so, but Jeongguk has to warn him.

“If we start, I’m not sure if we’ll stop.”

“I know,” he softly agrees, “But I want to anyway.” 

A sound bubbles up in the back of Jeongguk’s throat, and he kisses Jimin then, unable to hold back any longer. The older man takes him in willingly, holding onto him like a lifeline in a storm. 

This time, when thunder shakes the apartment, Jimin only tenses minutely, too preoccupied with the way Jeongguk’s tongue traces his bottom lip, begging for entrance. It feels like pure heat between them. Even the residual dampness of Jimin’s skin and clothes seems to contribute to a kind of humidity that shouldn’t exist when it’s so cold outside. 

Jeongguk’s hands frame Jimin’s face, cradling him lovingly as he deepens the kiss, the tip of his tongue caressing Jimin’s before retracting again, teeth worrying that soft bottom lip and eliciting a moan from his mouth. 

Together, as if they came to an agreement, they wrestle Jimin’s shirt up and off of him, barely breaking their heated kisses as they do, and Jeongguk gives himself over to what feels like the other’s gravitational pull, hands tracing over the contours of Jimin’s bare chest, eager to learn the shape of him. When he finally puts some space between them with the intent to admire the revealed body he’s so wrapped up in, Jeongguk gasps at what he sees. 

Apart from him being the  most breathtaking person Jeongguk has ever had the privilege to lay his eyes on, he forgot about the paint on his hand, and Jimin is practically covered in it. The smears from his fingers appear as if paint strokes of their own, marking the skin in purples and golds, contrasting with a shock of vermilion interspersed throughout, tempered by deep deep blues. 

Jimin looks like a breathing work of art of Jeongguk’s own creation, and it takes away all of his faculties. 

That familiar itch takes a hold of him, hands clenching in search of something to help immortalize this moment—a paintbrush, a pen, anything— but he knows this image is going to be seared into his mind likely for the rest of his days, and he has more important things to attend to. 

Jimin’s gaze has traveled down, curious to see what has Jeongguk so enthralled, and he hums in amusement. 

“You got me all messy.”

“It’s okay. It’s non-toxic.”

“Did you get it on my shirt?”

“You can have all of mine,” Jeongguk swears, right before sealing their lips together again, Jimin’s smile giving way to a whine. 

There’s another boom that echoes in the apartment, followed by bright light illuminating the closed lids of Jeongguk’s eyes, and he’s pleased when Jimin doesn’t even flinch this time, trembling fingers almost desperate to remove the clips and unravel the band from his hair, gentle as he frees the strands, allowing them to tumble to Jeongguk's shoulders. Then his grip moves on, tightening on his waist and insistently pulling at the hem of his shirt. 

Jeongguk submits to it, lifting his arms while Jimin guides it up and over his head, a choked sound leaving him as he openly stares at his revealed torso. 

“I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“What? Why?” Jeongguk demands, concern filling him again.

“Because look at you,” Jimin answers incredulously, motioning to his toned abs, fingers reaching out in reverence as he touches him.

Jeongguk snorts, relieved that he’s okay. 

“You’re one to talk,” he huffs, using one paint stained finger to trace over Jimin’s defined muscles, tummy quivering on every pass. 

The older man's pants are tight, cock hard and heavy between his legs, and when Jimin pulls him down he can feel that arousal, a rigid line that slots against his own, ripping a moan past his lips. 

“Fuck, baby. If you want to stop w-we should stop n-now.”

“Say it again.”

“Hmmm?”

“Call me baby again. I love it.”

More heat coils in his center, and Jeongguk can’t help but oblige. 

“Baby.”

Jimin’s head tilts back in an arch, elongating his body and baring his throat temptingly. 

“God yeah.”

Jeongguk is seduced by all that revealed skin and he falls to his neck, teeth scraping along the delicate flesh before he sucks and reveling in the moan he pulls from the smaller man. Slowly, he backs away only slightly to admire the mark he’s left before diving back in, laving his lips and tongue up to the shell of his ear, pleased when it invokes a violent shiver. 

Insistent hands tug at the waistband of his pants, and Jeongguk’s eyes travel down in both confusion and an overwhelming sense of longing. 

“Are you sure?” he asks again, almost desperate but he needs an answer. Needs to know. “Fuck, Jimin, you need to be sure—”

“I’m sure, Jeongguk-ah.”

With shivering limbs, together they strip each other of their clothes, paint staining skin, the apartment echoing with their stuttered breaths, blending in with the sounds of the rain, thunder and lightning. 

Once they’re both made bare to each other, Jeongguk gives a stuttering inhale, pulling away slightly to take in the magnificence that is Park Jimin, a bit embarrassed as Jimin does the same to him. 

Everything about the older man’s body is as gorgeous as the rest of him. From the dusky shade of his nipples, to the flush that decorates the surface of his skin, indented softly with the definition of his muscles. His legs are impossibly long and lithe, and between them rests his thick, leaking cock, also flushed a pretty shade of pink. 

Jeongguk experiences a rush of emotion that nearly overwhelms him, mixing with his need to please.

“God, tell me what you like. Please. Wanna make you feel good, just tell me.”

“Just—Just touch me, Jeongguk,” he begs. “Wanna feel you.”

He can do that. Jeongguk can definitely do that.

Bringing their lips together briefly, he steadily travels down, curling his tongue in the dips of Jimin’s clavicles before he’s unable to ignore the way his nipples entice him for a second longer. Dodging the strips of paint, he completely engulfs the one on the left inside the wet heat of his mouth, the fingers from his clean hand coming up to pinch the other as Jimin arches with a tortured moan, hands gripping onto his shoulders, fingers scrabling at his back. 

He’s sensitive here as well, and Jeongguk grins around the hard nub, sinking his teeth into it, smile widening when Jimin hisses and keens, hands coming up to cradle his head to his chest. 

But Jeongguk doesn't stay for long, moving on to the other nipple he’s neglected, and immediately sucks it into his mouth as well. 

“Jeongguk!”

Those fingers pull at his hair, and fuck, he loves it, cock twitching at the feeling, but he doesn’t relent, ripping a whine from Jimin’s swollen lips as he again worries the nub with his teeth.

When he finally releases them both they look angry and red, a rush of heat igniting in his core. 

He did that.  

He makes his descent down to Jimin’s abdomen, tracing over the divets in his skin that mark his abs and zeros in on his quivering belly button, lavishing it with kisses. 

Jimin is so responsive he lets out a constant stream of gasps and labored breaths, fingers carding through the strands of Jeongguk's hair and causing his eyes to roll up, the nerves in his scalp tingling.

He continues down, fingers swirling in the still-wet paint, chin bumping the leaking head of Jimin’s cock and pulling another high-pitched whimper from him. But Jeongguk chooses now to take his time, pulling back to admire Jimin up close, his heated breath hitting his flushed skin and causing his arousal to twitch. 

Back arching once more, Jimin can’t seem to hold still, body in a constant state of movement as his head thrashes from side to side, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as if trying to control the amount of noise he lets out. 

Jeongguk doesn’t like that. 

Reaching up, he uses the thumb without any paint to coax his teeth into releasing his swollen bottom lip, running the pad of it over the glistening shape and pressing only slightly inside his mouth. 

“Let me hear you,” he murmurs, Jimin’s hazy eyes staring back at him before he gives a slow nod. 

When Jeongguk’s head lowers, tongue swiping over Jimin’s weeping tip, the sound he lets out is almost melodic, and he grins into the heated flesh before licking another stripe over the taut skin. When he places open-mouthed kisses to the head, the tip of his tongue digging into the slit and tasting his precome, Jimin cries out, the sound of it coalescing with the thunder, lightning lighting up his ravishment as if that is its purpose.

Jeongguk takes pity on him and decides to stop teasing, noting the way Jimin’s heavy lidded eyes watch from beneath his thick lashes as he opens up wide and sinks down as far as he can. Jimin arches again, mouth parting as he lets out a silent scream while he's enveloped in heat. Relaxing his throat, Jeongguk swallows him down even more, the thick length twitching as his lips kiss the hand that holds the base steady. 

“Jeon— Jeongguk !”

He responds by humming inquisitively around the pulsating warmth, hands gripping into Jimin’s hips when he jerks, the vibrations sending him into a frenzy. Jeongguk grins as much as he can with his mouth full, and bobs his head over that flushed cock, taking every chance he has to hum and release his own appreciative moans, licking away the beads of precome and marveling at the taste. 

He's so fucking sweet.

Those fingers tug and pull at his hair again, blunt nails scratching over his scalp and causing a noise to rumble through Jeongguk’s chest, Jimin whimpering in response as his grip tightens, Jeongguk allowing himself to be eased away from the delicious cock in his mouth. 

“You can’t," he wheezes. "I’m gonna come if you keep going.”

“Good. I want you too. You taste amazing.”

Jimin keens again as if in pain, an arm coming up to cover his eyes, chest heaving as he visibly tries to calm himself. 

“Want you to fuck me,” he admits, finally removing the arm and staring unembarrassed into Jeongguk’s eyes. “Wanna come with you inside me.”

Though the words have his own cock weeping, Jeongguk’s lips turn up into a smirk. 

“Jimin, baby, we have all night. I’ll make you come as many times as you can stand it.”

The declaration turns Jimin’s cheeks red, teeth sinking into his bottom lip hard enough that he tears the skin, an almost fog-like haze taking over his eyes. 

“Oh…okay.”

It seems like the only thing he’s capable of saying, but Jeongguk still presses him. 

“Okay? Does that sound like something you want?”

“I want,” he answers breathlessly, and Jeongguk’s smile widens. 

“Good. Want you to come in my mouth, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods emphatically, and Jeongguk takes a few seconds to admire how wrecked he already looks, and he hasn’t even had his first orgasm yet. 

Lightning flashes at the exact same moment Jeongguk takes Jimin back into his mouth, illuminating his rapture as he greedily swallows around him, eager for a taste. He maneuvers Jimin’s legs until they’re thrown over both shoulders, his thighs clenching periodically around his ears. Jimin’s hips buck up, and Jeongguk allows his almost hesitant thrusts, humming in encouragement so that the other knows it’s okay to fuck his throat. 

Jimin understands, his hands once more gripping onto Jeongguk’s long hair and holding him in place as he pumps into his mouth, a drawn out high-pitched whine that only seems to gain in volume is a match for the speed of Jimin’s hips.

Jeongguk’s eyes have completely rolled up, revelling in the act of being used to bring Jimin pleasure, and when those frantic thrusts get erratic, the sound of that cry cutting off, he knows he’s close. 

Proven right barely a second later, Jeongguk’s mouth is flooded with come, the sweet taste of him blooming on his tongue, a moan emanating in his chest as he swallows every last drop, noting the way Jimin’s body twitches in oversensitivity. 

Keeping his still hard cock cradled on his tongue, Jeongguk keeps it warm, only releasing him when Jimin urges him off with a wet pop.

Slowly, he crawls up his flushed body, Jimin accepting him with open arms as they fall into another kiss, Jeongguk’s tongue invading the heat of his mouth, letting Jimin taste himself. It’s languid, and unhurried, Jimin pliant and slightly disoriented after his orgasm, but it’s also perfect, Jeongguuk’s own hard cock slipping against Jimin’s messy one.

Tenderly pushing back the sweat-drenched hair that has plastered itself to Jimin’s forehead, Jeongguk blinks down at him in awe, still taken by his beauty. 

“Are you alright baby?”

Lids fluttering, Jimin nods, heart still pounding a rapid rhythm beneath Jeongguk’s palm. He patiently waits for him to calm, kissing and caressing him through it, whispering praise as often as he can and admiring the way Jimin seems to blossom from it.

With a final deep breath, Jimin’s gaze appears more alert, a smile curling his enticing swollen lips, and Jeongguk can't hold back the request.

“Can I eat you out?”

The smile promptly disappears, Jimin’s eyes going almost comically wide. 

“W-What?”

“You don’t have to say yes, if you’re not okay with it. I just—wanna eat you out so bad—”

“I’m okay with it. I’m so fucking okay with it.”

“You are?" He asks, clearly overeager, but Jeongguk doesn't care if that's how he comes off, because he is overeager.

Jimin nods emphatically, moving as if to turn onto his tummy, but Jeongguk stops him, his own cheeks heating. 

“Do you wanna…you could fuck my face.”

“ Christ , Jeongguk-ah.”

But the shock wears off relatively fast, and Jimin encourages him to lay flat on his back, the sound of thunder going unnoticed in the studio. 

Instead of straddling his chest facing forward, Jimin throws a leg over his body with his head directed towards Jeongguk’s feet, backing that perfectly round and pert ass up towards his head, Jeongguk’s mouth watering at the sight of it. His hands reach out, fingers sinking into those plump cheeks and kneading them, cock leaking from the feel and sight of it alone, body igniting further. 

“Your ass is perfect.”

"You think so?"

Jeongguk gives the right cheek a small slap, watching as it jiggles.

"Fuck yeah."

Jimin whimpers again, the noise upticking into a whine when Jeongguk spreads his cheeks and reveals the sight of his hole to his eyes, pink and practically winking at him in excitement. 

A thumb presses against it, index finger tracing the rim. 

“You’re even pretty here, aren’t you?”

“Please,” Jimin begs, and Jeongguk can no longer deny either of them for one second more. 

Gripping Jimin's hips, Jeongguk pulls him back further, the palm covered in paint nearly slipping as he manhandles him until he hovers above his mouth. Jeongguk's hands pull Jimin's cheeks apart again, exposing him, and the sight has his head surging forward, circling the heated flesh with his tongue, flattening it to lick a broad stripe from his perineum to his entrance, managing to wriggle the tip of it inside, Jimin’s choked cry sounding like music to his ears. 

He feels impossibly tight, and after a few insistent thrusts of his tongue, Jeongguk holds his cheeks open with his paint-stained hand, while he sucks on the fingers of the other, adding pressure to the rim, liberally coating the area with saliva. When he’s wet enough, first one digit, and then a second sinks inside up to the first knuckle, listening intently to make sure that the noises Jimin makes are from pleasure and not discomfort. When he ascertains that they are, he twists and curls his fingers, scissoring them in the hopes to stretch him out a bit. When he feels like he’s succeeded, his fingers retract—much to Jimin’s disappointment—and Jeongguk lightly spanks his ass again, captured by the way it makes his cheeks bounce. 

“Come on, baby. You can fuck my face now.”

Another moan leaves his mouth, and Jeongguk’s own waters as he watches Jimin back up further, his ass completely smothering his face, Jeongguk’s tongue trying to find its mark blind.

He knows that he’s succeeded when Jimin’s body locks up, a cry slipping past his lips as he ruts against his face, all while Jeongguk goes at his rim like it’s a feast. He chases that quivering hole as Jimin lifts up and off of him, visibly trembling, and Jeongguk is just about to whine with the loss when Jimin’s voice—surprisingly firm—makes a demand. 

“Take a breath Jeongguk-ah.”

Jeongguk easily obeys, taking in a deep breath, eyes widening as Jimin lowers himself back down to sit on his face again, and Jeongguk’s tongue goes back to work. The distinctive sound of wet skin against wet skin from more than one place clues him into the fact that Jimin is most likely touching himself, fist flying over his hard cock. Jeongguk wishes he could see him like this, the idea of painting him in such a pose almost too overwhelming, but he’s more than happy where he is, a lightheadedness seeping in to muddle his mind before Jimin lifts himself again, timing it perfectly so that Jeongguk can take another breath. 

The next time he lowers back down, he does so even more dramatically, and Jeongguk isn’t sure why until he feels those divine plump lips wrap around his own arousal and swallow around him. 

Jeongguk cries out against Jimin’s skin, and the tingling vibrations have his thighs clenching, a whimper of his own thundering against Jeongguk’s cock. It feels like a never ending cycle, Jimin’s ministrations pulling little cries from Jeongguk’s lips and enticing Jimin’s own.   

On and on the pleasure continues, like an endless loop, and Jeongguk feels dangerously close to unraveling, head getting fuzzy again before Jimin pulls forward.

Jeongguk gasps, white spots dancing before his vision as he rasps out, “M’close.”

Fuck, he sounds wrecked . 

“Me too,” Jimin answers breathlessly, right before he lowers himself back down, Jeongguk’s tongue already slipping from between his lips to thrust into that heat as the older man gets back to fucking his face. 

The sound of their moans heightens, coinciding with the frantic thrusts of Jimin’s hips, that wet slapping sound increasing, head bobbing faster before taking him all the way down into his spasming throat—

Jeongguk sees stars in colored hues he’s never seen before, which is almost unheard of as an artist, and he longs to learn the name of each shade, marveling at the way they explode behind his eyes as he empties his pent-up release inside of Jimin’s willing mouth, while Jimin’s own body trembles and lurches, that pumping sound slowing just before he collapses down flat on top of Jeongguk's torso, not letting his cock go until he’s completely spent, the thick length slipping from his lips, though he places a messy kiss to the equally messy head.

They lay there, trying to catch their breath, and Jeongguk’s brow furrows, realizing the only thing that could make this moment perfect is if he could see the other. Limbs sluggish, he pulls himself up into a sitting position, nearly displacing Jimin, but his arms wrap around his tiny waist, pulling him back and down so that they can lay next to each other.

The rain continues to create pathways over the dark glass of the windows, thunder booming in the distance and blending in with the sounds of their once frantic breath, ever so slowly evening out. 

“Are you still with me baby?”

Jimin’s body expands with a deep inhale, deflating with a soft sigh. 

“M’not so sure anymore.”

Jeongguk smiles into his bare shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on top of it before burying his face in his hair and smelling his addicting ambrosial scent. 

“We can stop now, if you want.” 

His still hard dick presses between those cheeks, made messy from his own mouth. 

“Or we could keep going.”

Jimin groans, though his back arches in order to press his spit-slick cock even deeper against his hole. 

“You’re trying to end me.”

“It would be a sweet end, no?”

Jimin’s head falls back onto his shoulder with a moan, lids fluttering. 

“Fuck yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Please,” Jimin husks, and Jeongguk places another kiss just behind the shell of his ear before rising onto his knees so that he can retrieve lube and a condom. 

 

 

Gently, he encourages Jimin to roll onto his back, though the older man’s eyes never leave the supplies Jeongguk just put down next to him, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. 

“What is it baby?”

“Nothing,” he quickly denies. “You probably—it’s nothing.”

“Tell me.”

Jimin sighs, his gaze finally meeting him. 

“It’s just…it’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone.”

“Me too. Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”

“No, that’s not—I mean, thank you, but…I just wanted you to know, I’m clean.”

Jeongguk’s heart rate increases when he realizes what he’s implying.

“Fuck, Jimin.”

“We don’t have to,” he rushes to reassure. "I just…I have my results still saved to my phone if you ever wanted—”

Jeongguk cuts him off with a kiss, messy and uncoordinated as he reaches blindly for his own phone, hands shaking. 

“I have mine saved too. Here—lemme just—”

Jimin’s hands come up to cup his face, their eyes meeting in the dark. 

“I trust you,” he whispers, and Jeongguk feels his entire world melt away, Jimin leaning up to place gentle kisses on the lids of his eyes, their foreheads lowering to press together.

 

 

Jeongguk kisses him again, then twice for good measure, hand gripping for the lube as he leans back, traveling down Jimin’s body once more while coating his fingers generously. 

Coaxing his legs up, they lock eyes, something heavy and heated passing between them, lightning briefly illuminating the room. 

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

This would feel stupid if it was with anyone else, but not with Jimin. Never with Jimin.

“Are you ready baby?” he asks, stomach swooping when Jimin gives an enthusiastic nod. 

Taking his time, Jeongguk opens him up slowly, circling his rim with one finger, pressing against the muscle until it gives with a moan that pours out from Jimin’s lips. Meticulously, Jeongguk searches, probing inside and feeling along those hot, silky walls.

“God, Jeongguk, your fingers are so long.”

“Yeah? Can I reach all those places you can’t?” he smirks, that finger thrusting inside and curling to press directly over his prostate. 

Jimin cries out, body bearing down to try and force him deeper. 

“Easy, Jimin-ah. Easy.”

Jeongguk watches as his dick twitches, leaking pretty pearlescent pools inside of his tiny bellybutton. 

Carefully, he retracts his finger, and then pushes back inside with two, sinking in all the way this time and scissoring them apart. Jimin lets go of another guttural sound, and Jeongguk eases him down with quiet praise and a steady pressure on his prostate. He works him up to three fingers before Jimin can’t take it anymore. 

“Good! That’s good. M’ready.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to hurt you baby.”

“I’m sure,” Jimin answers through gritted teeth, and Jeongguk is loathe to argue with him. 

Quickly, but thoroughly, he slicks himself up, walking forward on his knees until the leaking head of his cock bumps against Jimin’s hole, without a barrier. 

It’s almost too much to think about. 

“Is it okay if we do it this way? Wanna see your face.”

“Fuck, yes. Come on,” Jimin encourages, gripping at Jeongguk’s waist between his spread legs, and Jeongguk presses forward even more, meeting only a slight resistance before Jimin’s rim gives way, opening up to him.  

He sinks in too fast with Jimin's rough insistence, catching Jeongguk off guard.

“Baby, slow down. Don’t wanna hurt you—”

 

 

But Jimin keeps tugging and pulling on him until Jeongguk loses his balance, burying himself to the hilt inside of him as a consequence.

Jimin practically screams at the same time Jeongguk groans, wet hot walls spasming deliciously around him. 

It's like nothing he's ever felt. Jimin grips him like a vice, the heat and pressure so perfect it shouldn't be possible.

Like they were made for each other. 

Gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to pound into him, Jeongguk shakes his head, forearms trembling as he struggles to hold himself up. 

“Are you…you alright?”

When Jimin opens his eyes, he’s rendered breathless by his beauty, tracking the flush that colors his cheeks, the swollen appearance of his lips, as well as the sheen in his eyes as he nods in answer, Jeongguk’s fingers twitching with the intense need to draw him. 

“I’m okay. Are you?”

“Tight,” he answers nonsensically, the grip Jimin's body has on him taking its toll, his control nearly slipping.

“You can move,” Jimin assures, his expression serene, but Jeongguk is the one who shakes his head, knowing if he does, this will all end too soon. 

“I just…need a minute. Or several,” he mutters under his breath. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Jimin’s cheeks flush further, and in a bid to distract him, pulls him down into another sweet wet kiss. 

Gradually, Jeongguk starts to move, purposefully backing away to determine Jimin’s reactions based on the expressions he makes. 

He looks…

Euphoric, and completely taken apart. 

His hips buck forward, driving a moan out of Jimin as he plunges deeper inside of him, hips connecting with the skin of his ass in a resounding slap. 

Changing the angle and lengthening his strokes, Jeongguk eagerly searches for that spot inside of Jimin that’ll make him see stars of his own, watching enraptured as Jimin’s back bows, lips parting with a delicate cry, and he knows he’s found it. 

“There baby?”

“T-There,” Jimin confirms, gripping onto his shoulders, legs coming up to wrap around his waist. “Don’t stop.”

“Not for anything,” Jeongguk swears, increasing the pace of his thrusts. 

His hand travels down, fingers slipping in the paint that still smears over Jimin’s skin, painting him in shades that compliment his complexion, an almost distraction in a sea of sensation. 

Walking his paint covered fingers to a pert nipple, Jeongguk can’t help but give it a light pinch, drinking in the way Jimin keens, tightening even further around Jeongguk’s weeping cock, the sound dying out on a moan.

“Sensitive," he notes aloud this time.

“Jeongguk,” Jimin whines, attempting to sound admonishing, but he just sounds wrecked. 

Hiking his legs up higher, Jeongguk fucks forward, savoring the way Jimin falls apart beneath him. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

The older man’s eyes fly open at the easy declaration, moisture collecting in the corners and making them sparkle in the dim light. 

“Even before I saw you, you’ve always been beautiful to me.”

Jimin’s breath hitches, and before Jeongguk knows what’s happening, he’s pulled down again into another heated kiss, Jimin’s lips slipping over his own, breathing the air he exhales before begging entry with his tongue, bodies slipping from all manner of bodily fluids as well as the oil paint. 

“Please,” he pleads. “M’close.”

The admission ignites something in Jeongguk, and he pumps into Jimin faster, harder, heat coiling in his tummy at the way he so obviously surrenders to his pleasure. It’s a point of pride to be able to turn him into a writhing, babbling mess, glowing with a fine sheen, like dew that kisses the surface of his skin. 

“If you’d let me, I’d paint you just like this,” He reveals, the damp strands of his hair hanging in his eyes, while some stick themselves to his heated face. “Wouldn’t let anybody see it, but I’d still spend hours trying to recreate how gorgeous you are in this moment.”

“Jeon—Jeongguk!"

He nails that sweet spot inside of him as much as he can, fascinated by the fog that enters Jimin's eyes with each thrust, giving himself over completely to the pleasure. Between them, rubbing along Jeongguk's moistened abs, is Jimin's weeping cock, thick and angry looking while Jimin begs for release.

And who is Jeongguk to deny him?

“It’s okay, baby. You can come.”

And as if he was waiting for permission, Jimin comes all over himself, ropes of white decorating his glistening chest, while he tightens further around Jeongguk’s aching cock until it’s almost painful. 

Jeongguk’s hips stutter, and he follows soon after, filling Jimin up with his own release as a guttural moan echoes in the otherwise quiet studio, nothing but their panting breaths resonating back at them, synchronizing with the drumming of the rain.

It's hard to breathe, and there's a kind of pleasure that rolls over him like waves, almost visible to his eyes, watching as they constantly crash over him, trembling in oversensitivity.

Jeongguk didn't know sex with someone could not only feel this good, but invoke such raw emotion in him. Emotions; the likes of which, he's never fully experienced the intensity of.

He's suddenly afraid, because now that he's felt it for the first time, what happens if he loses it someday? How is he supposed to go back to the way things were before?

When he goes to pull out, Jimin's arms tighten around his waist, emphatically shaking his head as he keeps him still. 

“Stay,” he whispers, a quiet plea. “Just a little bit longer.”

And that simple request chases away his fear, because Jimin doesn't want to let him go in the same way Jeongguk desires to hold onto him.

“Alright baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

They stay intertwined and locked while their breathing calms, the tackiness of their skin acting almost like glue as it dries, itchy and irritating.

When Jimin finally releases him, Jeongguk carefully pulls out, hissing as a wince crosses over the smaller man’s features. Once he’s free, he collapses down next to Jimin’s prone body, consciously not crushing him with his weight while an arm wraps around his midsection in order to pull him close. 

He’s not tired, but his lids feel almost as heavy as his body does, satiated and sluggish with his second orgasm. 

“That was…”

“That was ?” Jimin prompts when he trails off. 

“That was…like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

“In a good way, I hope.”

“Fuck yeah in a good way. The best of ways,” Jeongguk reassures, grip tightening around Jimin’s lean body. “It’s never felt like that before.”

Jimin slightly hesitates before he asks. 

“Really?”

“Really,” Jeongguk answers, burying his face in the heat of his neck.

A comfortable quiet retakes the darkened apartment, though more thunder echoes in the distance. 

“Jeongguk-ah,” Jimin whispers against his chest, small fingers swirling in the patches of paint on his skin. 

“Hmm?” 

He wonders if he's just imagining the slight hesitance in Jimin's voice or if he's actually nervous.

“Do you think…Do you think we’re moving too fast?”

Jeongguk’s eyes slide open, frowning as he considers the question. 

“Maybe by some people’s standards. But I’m not really worried about it," he reveals.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re you,” he answers honestly, without hesitation. “If it had been anyone else it would be different, I doubt I would’ve built any kind of trust with them. Not in the way I’ve created with you."

Taking a deep breath of ambrosia, Jeongguk continues, getting candid.

"After, there was this small moment of fear I experienced, because I've never felt this way about anyone," he admits, "and my feelings for you made everything so much more . I was terrified of suddenly losing it, of having to go back to my old norm. Irrational, I know, but then you asked me to stay and I realized I have nothing to worry about. 

"There isn't this uncertainty that now that we’ve had sex, you’ll disappear tomorrow, or that that was the sole thing either of us was after. I know what I want. What I wish to build with you, and you told me the same earlier today. Maybe with someone else I would’ve waited to become intimate. But with you…everything feels right.”

Jimin’s next breath is a labored stuttery thing, and he somehow manages to squeeze himself closer to Jeongguk’s body even though there was barely any space between them to begin with, and he welcomes him with gentle touches wherever he can reach.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” he murmurs, placing a chaste kiss directly over his heart. “Because I feel that way too. 

They lie in bed for several more minutes, before Jeongguk breaks the heavy atmosphere by slapping a hand to the meat of Jimin’s ass, delighting in the squeak he lets out.

“Come on, we gotta get up.”

“But why,” Jimin groans, burying his face in his chest. 

“Because we gotta get cleaned up, then I need to make the bed with some fresh sheets.”

“Or we could just sleep.”

“After I’m finished.”

“You’re so stubborn,” Jimin complains, though he doesn’t sound particularly upset about it. 

“Come on baby. Let’s get you in a nice hot shower.”

A squeal resounds around them as Jeongguk rises fluidly from the bed and lifts Jimin up into his arms as if he weighs nothing. He takes them to his cramped shower, where together they giggle into each other’s mouths as they wash away lube, sweat, paint and come. Bumping into each other in the tiny space is a reoccurring thing, bodies slick with both water and soap as they rub up against each other, Jimin almost insistent about it. 

“Careful not to rile me up, Jimin-ah. You’re already tired.”   

He doesn't listen because he's a menace, but somehow they manage to finish getting cleaned up, Jeongguk wrapping Jimin in a giant fluffy Terry cloth towel when they finally exit the bathroom in a cloud of steam. 

He leads him over to the couch to wait while he retrieves fresh sheets and blankets, making quick work of the disheveled bed, turning back to see the smaller man zoning out from his slumped position on the cushions. 

The room smells like sex, and Jimin looks unbelievably adorable, and he's quiet as he approaches him, the smaller man not even looking up.

Tossing the towel away, Jeongguk Lifts a now bare Jimin back into his arms, hearing a surprised gasp leave his swollen lips, and he can't help but nuzzle into his cheek in endearment.

"Come on baby, let's get you in bed."

"Aren't you gonna give me some clothes? It's cold."

"No clothes. Only body heat."

"You sound like a caveman."

Just for that, Jeongguk carefully tosses Jimin onto the freshly made bed, delighting in his giggles as he bounces once, twice, and then settles.

Jeongguk crawls in after him, a smirk taking over his lips. 

"Come here. I'll keep you warm."

Jimin doesn't hesitate, positioning himself so that Jeongguk can easily envelop him in his arms, head buried in his chest. 

"I could live here."

And with that he squishes Jeongguk's pecs together and smothers himself in them, making Jeongguk bark out a laugh in surprise.

"What are you—"

"Shh," Jimin demands, terribly muffled. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do this."

"Oh, well in that case," Jeongguk murmurs, pulling the blankets up and over them before shifting minutely to get comfortable, hand petting over Jimin's hair and moving down to squeeze and massage his neck.

It's still raining, making him even more tired after the best sex of his life, and he allows his heavy lids to fall closed, while in the distance the sound of thunder can be heard.

"Jeongguk-ah?"

"Hmmm?"

 

 

"Tell me a secret. Something I don't know about you."

The request brings a small smile to his lips, fingers moving down to draw featherlight patterns over his back, and without opening his eyes Jeongguk indulges him.

"I'm head over heels for you."

Jimin pokes his left nipple, making him hiss, heat coiling in his belly.

"I said something I don't know."

"Cheeky thing," he huffs. "Fine. My birthday is September first."

Jimin pulls back abruptly, Jeongguk's lids fluttering open, and even in the dark he can see how wide the other's eyes are, mouth fallen open.

"Jeongguk… today is September first."

He hums, tracing senseless swirls over Jimin's bare chest with the tip of a finger. 

"And it's been a very happy birthday."

Jimin pinches his nipple this time, a wince taking over Jeongguk's features as he huffs in indignation, arm coming up to guard the nubs.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You didn't tell me it was your birthday?!"

He shrugs.

"Forgot. I don't really make a big deal out of it."

Jimin pouts, falling back down to his chest to move his arm out of the way, placing an apologetic kiss over his mistreated nipple, drawing a different response from Jeongguk this time that has his blood heating further before he hears a quiet mumble.

"Happy birthday Jeongguk-ah."

"Thank you baby. I'm glad I got to spend it with you."

Jimin gives him another kiss, right over his heart this time.

The apartment is quiet before Jeongguk poses his own question.

"Are you gonna tell me when your birthday is?"

He hears a snort in response. 

"Maybe the day after ."

Jeongguk chuckles, arms wrapping him up tighter.

"Suppose I deserve that."

Suddenly, Jimin springs up again, and the mischievous glint in his eyes gets Jeongguk's blood pumping.

"Since it's your birthday, I owe you a present."

"I can't remember the last time someone bought me something,'' he mutters, watching as Jimin shakes his head.

"Not that kind of present."

His gaze turns slutry, traveling down, down, down—

"Oh… oh."

"Mhmm."

"But you're tired, baby."

"Not anymore I'm not," he grins, shifting over Jeongguk's body, a wet tongue tracing his upper lip.

"I—I don't have any more clean sheets," he warns, wanting to close his eyes in mortification.

He sounds ridiculous.

"Then I'll give it to you on the floor."

"Fuck me," he groans, Jimin's gaze turning wicked.

"If you ask nicely."

Needless to say it's the best birthday Jeongguk has ever had.

  

Notes:

Only one chapter left and then we say goodbye to these babies. I'm not ready.

Chapter 12: Series : Point of View

Notes:

Beautiful artwork for this chapter commisioned by the lovely Ninjava and brought to life by the talented Winter. Thank you both so much.

 

This is it. Here we go.

 

 

 

Jeongguk is sore upon waking, but he does his best to keep in the groan that so desperately wants to escape, trying to avoid disturbing Jimin in case he still sleeps. 

Eyes blinking open, he can't help but smile upon the disarray that is his apartment, the two of them making quite a mess last night during their …activities , which continued on into the early hours of the morning. 

The smile, it seems, is now a permanent fixture of his features, causing his cheeks to hurt, which only makes him smile more. This unfamiliar feeling of weightlessness blankets him, as if he's full of helium, inflating until he's in danger of floating away, like a balloon released into the sky under the warmth of the sun.

It doesn't make any sense, but Jeongguk knows he's never felt this good before. Never been this happy.

Outside it’s bright, though gray clouds still hang in the sky, like a warning not to get too comfortable with the nice weather. Jimin lies on his stomach next to him, naked and golden, long lashes kissing the tops of his cheeks as he slumbers. Jeongguk could stare at him for hours and never tire of it. He looks glorious, unreal, like a dream, and he lowers himself down to hover just above him, forgetting that he doesn’t want to wake the other as he brushes Jimin’s hair aside, placing soft kisses over the moon tattoos that trail down his spine, marveling at the softness of his skin.

He didn’t get to admire the ink that was revealed to him last night, and takes the time to rectify that now, traveling along the shape of every moonphase with his lips, his tongue curling over slopes and sharp points, while his fingers trace the Nevermind tattoo that curls over his ribs and smiles when they shudder at the attention. 

Jimin's breath hitches while he stirs, but Jeongguk can’t bring himself to move away. He feels addicted, like he needs to be near him, to hear him, feel him, taste him and breathe him in so that he can function, a terrifying realization that he's already so wrapped up in the man that he never wants to untangle himself. He watches as Jimin’s eyes blink open, like a flower blooming in spring after weeks of rain, eager to greet the world. 

“Morning baby.”

Jimin hums, throwing an arm up to hide his face, still tired and out of it, but Jeongguk doesn’t mind, he can wait for him to gain a bit of clarity. And he likes seeing him like this, sleep-rumpled and relaxed, pliant and soft. 

“I don’t understand how you look so gorgeous right now,” Jimin complains, voice raspy. “I ruined you last night.”

Jeongguk can’t help but choke on his laughter, forehead bumping against Jimin’s own over how petulant he sounds.

“Right back at you on both counts,” he beams, pleased when he sees the corners of Jimin’s lips turn up in a small grin, the arm finally falling away to reveal his beauty.

“Time is it,” he mumbles, as if that’s important. 

“Who cares,” Jeongguk smirks, sinking down until he can bury his face in Jimin’s neck and inhale deeply, taking in hints of ambrosia. “It’s Saturday.”

“Is it?”

“I think so, now I’m not so sure.”

“I think if we both agree to call it Saturday, then Saturday it is.”

“Makes perfect sense.”

“I think so too.”

Together they roll until Jimin rests on top of him, their naked skin flush, Jeongguk’s lashes fluttering over the feel of the other so intimately pressed against him in all the right places.

“Well, do you have plans for today?” Jimin wonders, sounding more awake than he has since opening his eyes. 

“The only plans I have for today are to spend it with you.”

The smaller man smiles, his eyes turning into little upside down crescent moons; a rival for his tattoos, and Jeongguk is so endeared by him his heart hurts. He finds himself craning his neck up, Jimin leaning down to meet him halfway until their lips brush in a slow, sweet kiss. 

“Maybe we could be lazy for a bit,” Jeongguk suggests into Jimin’s open mouth, their tongues curling against each other. “And then after that, I still have to finish the oil painting.”

“Does that mean I’ll have to get dressed?” Jimin whispers against his lips, practically pouting at the idea. 

“It might help, yes.”

“But don’t you have a photographic memory? Can’t you just …remember me in my clothes.”

“I mean it’ll help me be able to focus better if you aren’t actually naked.”

“Oh, I see. Well, if it’ll help, I guess I could be persuaded.”

“You’re an angel.”

“I know.”

Jeongguk laughs along his jaw and then kisses him again for good measure, wrapping him up in his arms and reveling in their proximity, marveling over the fact that a few days ago, he couldn’t do this with Jimin, and now he’s in a relationship with him. 

Life is surreal.

“So…did you just want to relax, or…” Jimin wonders, a familiar glint in his eyes that spells mischief.

“Why,” Jeongguk murmurs, bumping their noses together. “What did you have in mind?”

“Mmm, I think it’d make more sense if I show you.”

“A physical demonstration?” Jeongguk gasps, sounding almost scandalized. “By all means.”

Their laughter echoes in the quiet of the studio, drowned out by the sound of kisses and the rain as it begins to sprinkle against the windows.

Needless to say, it’s very late by the time Jeongguk finally finishes the oil painting, the scene of Jimin splayed out over his sheets far more innocent than anything they’ve done in that bed to date.

 

 

 

 

°•🎨🖌•°

Taehyung and Jin have an impromptu housewarming party on Sunday, citing that they chose that particular day because they don’t want people to get “too crazy” in their apartment—

Is it considered a housewarming party if only Taehyung moved in?

Jeongguk can't really say.

—But then Yoongi shows up with whiskey as a present on one arm and Hoseok on the other, so Taehyung shrugs and decides to bust out his obscure collection of wine, the results of which find Jeongguk loose and giggling with Jimin in the back of the main room, trying to avoid the many people they don’t know as they “hide.” 

“Well aren’t you two being unsurprisingly anti-social.”

The two of them turn and snort at Tae, the photography major eyeing their glasses with a raised brow.

“How much wine have you had?”

Jeongguk laughs. 

“Jin gave us this,” he slurs, holding up the nearly empty glass. “It’s our third.”

Jimin frowns. 

“No, it’s your third. I think it’s my second.”

“No baby, you had that glass when we first got here, remember?”

“I don’t think so—”

“Right, I’m cutting you both off,” Taehyung mutters, shaking his head at the two of them as they both whine in complaint. "Hush. Do you even know how much alcohol is in this?"

"Your wine glasses are ridiculously big, too." Jeongguk hiccups, watching as Tae mutters under his breath on the way to the kitchen.

“You shouldn’t have said I’ve had three. We could’ve gotten another drink,” Jimin grumbles, and Jeongguk’s eyes widen when he realizes he was fibbing on purpose.

“But I’m a terrible liar,” he reminds, overly loud and making Jimin giggle again as he shushes him with a finger to his lips, and that’s all he really cares about anyway, making Jimin happy. Making him laugh.

He’s so pleasantly fuzzy that he doesn’t get nervous at all when Yoongi and Hoseok approach them, and it might be the alcohol but the two seem a lot more amiable than they did the last time he was in their company. Yoongi even pats him on the back and lets him try his whiskey before Taehyung gives them a warning glare from across the room. 

After Seokjin begrudgingly plies them both with water and orders them to sit down before you break something for christ’s sake , Jeongguk and Jimin relocate to the couch where he feels a bit more present, but calm in a way he never would be in social situations if he were sober. 

Jimin kisses his ear and leaves him there, promising to be right back after he says hi to someone, and Jeongguk watches him go, feeling ridiculous that he misses him already. But soon enough the cushion next to him dips, and when Jeongguk looks up, Namjoon is there, smiling down at him in amusement.

Jeongguk smiles back. 

He likes Namjoon. Namjoon is nice, and he likes art.

“How are you?” he asks, swirling his own drink around like someone sophisticated.

Do sophisticated people swirl their drinks around?

“M’good, thanks," Jeongguk answers. "And you?”

“I’m good. I wanted to apologize for not calling you yet. End of the term is catching up with me.”

Oh yeah, they did exchange numbers when they first met.

“It’s okay,” he assures, knowing he would’ve likely been a useless conversationalist anyways. “I completely understand. Been busy myself,” he explains with a dopey smile, eyes finding Jimin in the crowd.

“You and Jimin seem to be kicking it off,” Namjoon knowingly grins, his gaze following Jeongguk's until they're both looking at the law student. 

“Yeah, he makes me happy,” he candidly admits, nose scrunching as he watches the smaller man nearly fall out of his chair across the way, catching himself at the last second.

“That’s good, that’s important,” Namjoon nods, taking a small sip of his drink. “As someone who cares about him, I can tell that you make him happy too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk beams. 

“That’s all I really wanna do.”

“I’m glad. I think you both are really good for each other.”

Jeongguk almost feels overly sentimental, and suddenly, all he wants to do is wrap Jimin up and cling to him like some sort of land octopus, which is an interesting visual…

“This might not be the best time, considering,” Namjoon grins, motioning towards his own drink in explanation, “but I wanted to talk to you further about what you said when we first met. You made mention of your interest in owning a gallery.”

“Oh…yeah. It’s always been a dream of mine, to have a space to display my art, but I would probably need a business partner.”

Namjoon glances down with another kind smile, two dimples adorning his cheeks that capture Jeongguk’s attention. 

They look really deep.

“Well, that’s kind of what I wanted to speak with you about. I know we don’t know each other, but I was hoping maybe we could have a discussion when you’re ready about potentially going into business together.”

Jeongguk’s mouth falls open, and no matter how many times he tries, he can’t pick it up, staring at the other man in disbelief. 

“You want to go into business… with me ?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. You’re an artist with designs to own his own gallery, and I’m a business major that’s top of my class who also wants to own a gallery, but has nothing to display. I’ve done my research, and learned that that’s half the battle. If we go into it together, I think you and I would be able to benefit from each other.”

“Wow,” Jeongguk murmurs in awe. “That makes sense.”

“We don’t have to make any decisions now, of course. But maybe soon we can sit down and try to talk things out, come up with a proposal and compare what we’re both looking for to see if we mesh well?”

“That would be…yeah. That would be amazing.”

Namjoon smiles that kind smile again, and Jeongguk can barely fight the urge to poke those endless dimples, wanting to see how deep they go. 

He only just manages to restrain himself, a man he’s never seen before coming over to sweep Namjoon away with polite apologies and a promise to be in touch, the two of them obviously familiar, their fingers interlaced.

Jeongguk wishes he could hold Jimin’s hand in that second…

And as if he summoned him with his thoughts alone, Jimin appears at his side, taking the recently vacated seat for himself, a soft grin curling his lips when Jeongguk holds his hand like he wanted to.

“Saw you talking to Namjoon hyung. Are you alright? You look a bit pale.” 

“I’m more than alright,” he reveals, taking a drink of the water Jimin holds out to him. “I think he just offered me a job.”

"He offered you a job?" Jimin grins, that crooked front tooth peeking out, and Jeongguk wants to cry it's so fucking cute.

"Mhmm."

"Congratulations. Is he gonna be your boss?”

“I don’t think so,” he admits, brow furrowed in confusion. “I think we’ll be like…seperate bosses…at the same place.”

Jimin bursts into giggles, finding that oddly amusing, and Jeongguk can’t help but do the same, the two of them useless for the rest of the night.

°•🎨🖌•°

Jeongguk glances up from the canvas, distracted as he watches Jimin move—he’s not supposed to move—his hand slowly sliding down to his bare abdomen, causing the artist to point the end of his chewed up round brush at him, clicking his tongue in warning. 

"Ah ah," he scolds. "Behave."

"Or what," Jimin challenges, and Jeongguk’s breath catches in his throat. 

He’s stretched out over Jeongguk’s bed, supposed to be locked in a pose while Jeongguk paints him again, only this time, he’s completely nude.

"Or I'll punish you," he answers firmly, trying to keep his smile at bay.

"I'm practically a lawyer, mister artiste. I know my rights."

Jimin’s fingers twitch, as if trying to reach for the most intimate part of him—

"Stop," he scolds again, the smaller man appearing affronted.

"I'm not even touching myself anymore!"

“You’re thinking about touching yourself.”

“Prove it.”

Jeongguk motions with his chin, Jimin's eyes following down the slope of his own body until they land on his engorged cock, overly flushed, leaking at the tip in an obvious giveaway.

"I can't help that."

Jeongguk raises a brow at him.

"Try and take deep calming breaths."

"Mmm, deep," Jimin murmurs, lashes fluttering, and Jeongguk points at him again.

"Stop," he repeats.

"I think your explicit painting would look better if I'm hard anyways."

" Figure painting ," he corrects. "Or nude, painting if you wish."

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Taehyung too much,” he grumbles, trying to refocus on his piece, an almost useless effort at this point. 

Jimin behaves for a grand total of five minutes before another mischievous smirk takes over his lips. 

“I believe you are blushing, mister big artiste. I can’t imagine Monsieur Monet blushing.”

Jeongguk wants to laugh and cry at the same time, but he settles for an exaggerated groan.

“Jimin—”

“Say the line, Jeongguk,” he encourages, almost overly giddy. 

They watched Titanic together the other day and he’s been insufferable ever since.

Jeongguk looks up over his canvas, pinning Jimin with his gaze as he recites Jack’s part. 

“He does landscapes. Now hush, or I will gag you.”

Jimin feigns confusion. 

“Titanic sounds different from what I remember.”

Jeongguk’s nose scrunches up, eyes crinkling as he tries and fails to concentrate, finally setting his paintbrush down and coming out from behind the easel, removing his paint-stained apron to reveal his own naked body, crawling up onto the bed to hover above an obviously pleased Jimin now that he's gotten his way.

“You’re impossible,” he complains, though his smile ruins it. 

“Maybe if you fucked the energy out of me, I’d be a better model for your dirty painting.”

“ Figure painting ,” Jeongguk corrects again, trailing kisses over his neck, tongue sneaking out to make him tremble before he takes the lobe of his ear in his mouth. “And if I recall correctly, I fucked you before we started.”

“Did you?” Jimin hums, making Jeongguk scoff. 

“Need me to jog your memory?”

“I think I might, everything is so hazy these days and we fuck so often it’s hard to keep track.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Of course I am, look at you.”

Jeongguk giggles, rising up so that he can give Jimin a deep kiss, their mouths slanting over each other, Jimin’s tongue invading so that Jeongguk can gently clamp down on it with his teeth before licking over it with his own. 

“Turn over, baby. Let me fuck the energy out of you then.”

A full body shiver runs throughout Jimin before he rushes to comply, almost jittery with anticipation. 

Jeongguk grabs for the lube that’s still poking out from under one of the pillows, and meticulously takes Jimin apart with just his fingers, massaging over his prostate and making him whimper and moan. 

“You’re g-gonna make me soak these s-sheets,” he warns, Jimin’s penchant for leaking precome one of the many things Jeongguk adores about him. 

He just gets so wet when he’s aroused.

“Do it, baby. Show me how much you love it when I touch you like this.”

“Fuck, Jeongguk-ah, you’re gonna make me come if you don’t stop.”

Jeongguk doesn’t stop, and it’s only after he’s made Jimin come the first time that he finally slicks up his own hard cock and pushes inside while the smaller man is still trying to catch his breath, loose and relaxed from his orgasm. 

He doesn’t give him much time to adjust, nor does Jimin want him to, still open from earlier when they had sex after waking, Jimin riding him until he cried. 

Jeongguk fucks deep and slow, but then he remembers he’s supposed to be draining Jimin of his energy, and promptly drags him up onto his knees, ass on display, making Jimin whine and beg to be filled. Jeongguk is more than happy to oblige, fingers sinking into Jimin’s hair to get a good grip, strong enough to pull but not hard enough to hurt as he pounds into Jimin’s tight heat, the globes of his round cheeks bouncing, echoing with every slap of skin on skin.  

“Jeon—Jeongguk,” Jimin cries, breathless, and when he tightens even further around him, Jeongguk knows he’s found it. 

“Yeah baby? Am I hitting that spot?”

Jimin can’t really nod with Jeongguk’s hand in his hair, but he tries, and Jeongguk pulls him up and back until they’re both on their knees, back to chest, teeth sinking into the meat of Jimin’s shoulder and making him keen before releasing him. 

“You gonna be good for me after this? Gonna lie still for my painting?”

“Yes,” he whimpers, head falling back on Jeongguk’s shoulder to reveal what a mess his face is, flushed and covered with tears and drool. “I’ll be good for you.”

He's fucking gorgeous like this.

Jeongguk’s own arousal spikes, that heat in his core expanding dangerously fast as he continues to fuck up into Jimin, aiming for that spot everytime. 

“Touch yourself, baby.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“I’m gonna come,” he warns, more tears leaking from his eyes. 

“Already?” Jeongguk asks, tone smug as Jimin adamantly nods, eyes squeezed tightly shut like he's desperately trying to hold it off.

Jeongguk increases his pace, the smaller man unable to keep quiet as he’s taken apart. 

“Then come with me baby. You ready?”

Jimin hums, the sound of which turns into a loud scream when Jeongguk’s hands come up to pinch both of his nipples, fingers rolling the buds until they’re red with attention. 

He comes when Jimin tightens further around him, flooding him with the heat of his release, and that seems to set off Jimin’s own orgasm, a long moan slipping past his swollen lips as he finishes all over himself, ropes of white painting his heaving chest, like he's an artist himself. 

They stay like that for a moment, Jeongguk taking all of Jimin’s weight as he catches his breath before he gently pulls out of him and lays his limp form down on the mattress. Kissing his forehead, Jeongguk gets a wet cloth from the bathroom and uses it to clean them up, making sure Jimin’s alright and comfortable before going to toss it in the dirty laundry. 

When he comes back, he pulls the smaller man into his arms and cuddles him, whispering praise into his ear until Jimin’s breathing evens out, and Jeongguk shifts in order to glance at his lax features, proving his suspicions that he’s fallen asleep. It brings a smile to his lips, and carefully he slips out from behind him, positioning his body before re-donning his stained apron and going back to his canvas. 

Now he can finish what he started.

°•🎨🖌•°

When Jeongguk attends his final art class where his project is due, he carefully rolls in his ten pieces on a dolly, every paper and canvas labelled as well as covered to keep them safe. He turns in his work inside of the class' storage room with the rest of the student's pieces, where they’ll stay until the student gallery showing at the end of the week. 

“Don’t forget to fill out the form,” his teacher calls in reminder, the paper being passed around until everyone has their own. 

Jeongguk eyes the questions, takes out a pen and fills out his name and the date. 

What would you like the placard to read under each piece?

Jeongguk writes the numbers one through ten as he names them:

 

 

1. Charcoal

2. Watercolor

3. Digital

4. Acrylic 

5. Oil

6. Charcoal Revisited

7. Watercolor Revisited

8. Digital Revisited

9. Acrylic Revisited 

10. Oil Revisited 

 

 

It’s not poetic, but Jeongguk likes it, and after giving a summary description on the parameters of his project he moves onto the next question.

What would you like your collection to be called?

Jeongguk grins, remembering something Jimin had said to him not that long ago and begins to write. 

Series - Point of View

°•🎨🖌•°

Jeongguk has to go to the campus theater early—which has been converted into an art gallery for the night—and sets up his pieces carefully, making sure they’re centered, labeled, and well lit. He’s nervous, which is new in regards to showing his work, but he chalks it up to the fact that so many people are coming just to see him. 

Taehyung and Seokjin bought tickets weeks ago, and Jeongguk offered Jimin his plus one ticket before he proudly proclaimed that he already bought his own, as did the rest of his roommates. 

All three of them.

It’s just a college art show, not a big deal, he tells himself. It doesn't really help, and Jeongguk might be a bit biased, but the pieces he did of Jimin are arguably his best work, and his personal favorite, so maybe with that comes expectation and nerves. He just wished he knew what to do with that energy, clammy hands smoothing down the dark button up shirt he wears as well as his matching slacks. 

It gets worse once his teacher announces that the doors are opening, and Jeongguk stands stiffly next to his art, trying and failing not to show how anxious he is—

But the feeling vanishes as soon as Jimin finds him, radiant and bright and staring at him as if he hung the sun and the moon. The smaller man practically barrels towards him and Jeongguk eagerly opens up his arms, wrapping him tightly to his chest, Jimin’s lips caressing the shell of his ear when he whispers. 

“I am so proud of you.”

Jeongguk’s breath catches in the back of his throat and his arms tighten further, burying his face in Jimin’s neck. He has no words to offer, too overwhelmed, but Jimin doesn’t mind, smile widening when he pulls back, as if he knows exactly what Jeongguk is going through.

“Your work is the best here, by the way.”

Jeongguk snorts, shaking his head as a flush heats his cheeks. 

“You ran here as soon as the doors opened, you didn’t even look at anyone else’s art.”

Jimin waves that accusation away with a grin, eyes bright. 

“I saw a bunch on the way over here and I can tell you that your artwork is definitely the best.”

Jeongguk pulls him in again, placing a sweet kiss on his still-grinning lips. 

“You’re biased.”

“So. I’m still right.”

Jeongguk is about to answer when he hears Seokjin’s disgusted groan.

“Get a room, you two. Jimin-ah, it’s a gallery, you’re supposed to appreciate the art in order.”

Jimin pulls back from Jeongguk slightly to glance at both Taehyung and Seokjin, offering a shrug, clearly unconcerned that he skipped everything.

Meanwhile, Taehyung glances around, taking in each individual piece that Jeongguk finished, eyes wide, mouth open in awe. 

“These are amazing, Jeongguk-ah. Every medium is unique.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, suddenly embarrassed, especially with the way Jimin keeps smiling at him like he’s a miracle or something. “You guys should wander around. Enjoy the rest of the show.”

Jimin pouts, but after he’s showered him with enough praise to permanently turn Jeongguk’s cheeks red, he allows himself to be dragged away by both Taehyung and Seokjin to take in the rest of the exhibit.

Jeongguk remains with his art, ready to answer any questions if posed to him, relieved when Namjoon and his partner Sejoon make it to his section, providing the comfort of a familiar face. Namjoon gushes over each piece, seeming genuinely taken with his art style, pointing out his techniques and palette choice, thoughtful with each composition. 

Jeongguk is sure he’s going to meet his end from praise. 

It’s a relief when both Hoseok and Yoongi make their way to him, Hoseok constantly making small awed noises while Yoongi remains stoic and quiet until he reaches the last painting, only to say, “I wish I could fucking draw.”

It relaxes Jeongguk and brings an unstrained smile to his lips, relief flooding him.

Over the course of the night, Jimin keeps coming back to his side, smugly commenting, “I’ve seen the whole gallery now, and yours is still the best.”

He doesn’t hover though, allowing Jeongguk to socialize and answer questions from admiring viewers of his works, but he’s never far. Sometimes Jeongguk will turn and he’ll be there across the room, ready with a proud smile. 

It makes his heart swell even further, a strange feeling overtaking him.

By the end of the show, Jeongguk has to remain in order to help take everything down and collect his art, but he passes Jimin his keys with a request in his eyes.

“Will you stay with me tonight? Please?”

Jimin takes them, eyes wide, expression filled with warmth. They’ve spent the night together more often than not, but this feels different. More meaningful somehow.

“Of course. I’ll be waiting for you, okay?”

Jeongguk nods and watches him go, bidding goodnight to everyone who came to see him. 

It’s as he’s taking his artwork down that his teacher approaches him with a woman who looks vaguely familiar. 

“Jeongguk-ah, I want to introduce you to a friend of mine. This is Byun Soomin. Soomin-ah, this is Jeon Jeongguk.”

They bow to each other, Jeongguk’s eyes widening as her name also rings a bell—

“She runs the magazine Koreana.”

His eyes widen further, knowing that to be one of the most prominent magazines in the art world and bows again, stuttering his greeting. 

“I’m more than aware of your publication, Soomin-ssi. I never miss an edition.”

“Oh, well then I’m flattered, Jeongguk-ssi, as I actually wanted to ask if you might be interested in being featured in one of our future issues. We’re trying to put a spotlight on new up and coming artists in Seoul.”

Jeongguk’s mouth falls open, and he stares at the two silently, completely in shock. 

“Are you…you want to feature me ?”

Both Soomin and his teacher smile, the latter nodding before reaching into her pocket and passing over a neat white card. 

“Get in touch with me as soon as you can and we’ll go over the details. I’m really impressed with your work,” she compliments, motioning to the still hanging pieces on the wall. "And the premise behind the project. It's really fascinating the way you painted him off of description alone."

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says, bowing once more with the promise to contact her.

With that they leave him to it, and Jeongguk stands there completely still as he tries to process what just happened. 

°•🎨🖌•°

After getting home and relaying the news somewhat numbly, still in disbelief, Jimin kisses him stupid and then takes him apart, makes him come twice before encouraging him into his lap and up onto his cock. 

Jeongguk rides him slowly, taking his time, reveling in the sensation of being connected, of being full. Their eyes never leave each other, he’s sure, and he holds Jimin's gaze even when their lips meet. It's intense and as it gets to be too much, he wraps his arms around Jimin's neck, his anchor in uncertain seas. 

Gathering his strength, Jeongguk rolls his hips, undulating his body in smooth motions and taking him deeper, lifting up onto his knees before dropping back down again. Jimin's eyes roll up at that, arms tightening where they've wrapped themselves around his waist, fingers gripping into skin, and Jeongguk hopes it’ll bruise, that he’ll have something ephemeral to remember this by.

"You're beautiful, Jeongguk-ah,” Jimin impassionately declares. “So beautiful it hurts."

The admission makes his eyes mist over, heart swelling again with that feeling he had at the gallery, and a realization dawns that takes his breath away.

"It didn't take eighty-eight days."

Jimin’s brow creases, confusion mixing with the pleasure.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?"

Jeongguk trembles in his arms even more at the endearment, sweat dripping down the sides of his face while he continues to bring their bodies together at a maddening pace, Jimin hitting that spot inside him just right.

"It t-takes the average male eighty-eight d-days to fall in love. But not with you. With you it happened f-faster," he rambles, increasing his pace before confessing, "I love you Jimin."

The smaller man gapes up at him with his pretty eyes, plump lips parting, and Jeongguk feels the telling way in which he twitches and swells inside, as if the admission has brought him closer to completion. 

"Fuck, Jeongguk-ah,” he hisses, thrusting up to meet him as he brings their lips together, a confession of his own slipping from his mouth to be swallowed down by Jeongguk. “I love you too. I love you too," he chants, their lips connecting almost violently.

Jeongguk comes with those words in his mouth, and Jimin’s hands branded on his skin as he follows.

°•🎨🖌•°

It’s almost impossible to expel the nervous energy Jeongguk feels as he waits outside of the exam building, the fresh air not doing him any good. 

His hands are shaking. 

He’s so nervous and he’s not even the one taking the test, but as he waits for Jimin to be finished, he only seems to become more anxious, gaze constantly drawn to the glass doors. 

When they open he nearly has a heart attack, only for someone he doesn’t know to walk out, and Jeongguk sighs, going back to pacing a hole in the sidewalk. 

When the doors open again, Jeongguk holds his breath, anxiety spiking as soon as he sees Jimin walk out, head down, a paper in his hands. 

Jeongguk’s face immediately falls, and he’s sure he’s gonna throw up, standing there useless while he stares. He feels numb when he walks towards the older man, his gaze still downcast, and when they’re nearly on top of each other, Jeongguk notices that his shoulders are shaking. 

Fuck, he’s crying. He didn’t pass—

But then Jeongguk can hear the sound of quiet laughter, Jimin’s head lifting to reveal the most radiant smile, and Jeongguk feels beyond confused, unable to reconcile that he appeared so genuinely upset only a moment before.

“Sorry,” Jimin wheezes between giggles. “I'm sorry, I can’t keep up the act anymore. I passed.”

He throws his arms around him and Jeongguk is there to catch him, the two spinning as he still tries to process. 

“You passed?”

“I passed,” He repeats, kissing the tip of his nose before moving down to his lips, his smile too wide to deepen it further than a chaste peck before thrusting the paper he's holding in his face.

Jeongguk grabs it from him, eyes zeroing in on his test score.

"You didn't miss any ?"

"I didn't miss any," Jimin giggles, giddy. 

“You tried to trick me?”

“I did trick you,” Jimin corrects, “You should see your face.”

“I thought you were crying. I was about to cry.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Jimin pouts, but his smile shines through and ruins it. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better,” Jeongguk huffs, but his own relief and happiness takes over as well, and he spins Jimin around again, so unbelievably happy. “Proud of you,” he whispers into his warm soft skin, Jimin placing a kiss at his temple. 

“Love you,” Jimin answers back, and Jeongguk’s heart swells. 

“Love you too.”

“Then take me home, mister artiste.”

Home .

He’s been calling Jeongguk’s studio that a lot lately, and each time he does it makes his stomach flutter, pleased, this desire to actually pose the question resting on the tip of his tongue. 

Move in with me.

But it might be too soon for that, Jeongguk isn't really sure of the correct timing for these things.

Maybe he'll ask Seokjin. He got Taehyung to move in with him, after all.

“Can’t go home yet,” he tells him, trying to ignore Jimin’s pouty lip. 

“What? Why?”

“You’re gonna ruin the surprise.”

His eyes narrow, a familiar inquisitive look overtaking his features and Jeongguk knows he's in trouble.

“What surprise?”

Jimin stares at him until he caves. 

“Hoseok, Yoongi and Namjoon are throwing you a party at their apartment.”

Their apartment, not your apartment. 

Jimin throws his head back and laughs, delighted, even as he almost falls to the ground; which he would have if Jeongguk weren’t holding him up. 

“You’re terrible at hiding things.”

“I’m aware,” Jeongguk grumbles, wrapping an arm around his waist and leading them in the direction of the apartment. “Just make sure you act surprised.”

“Help me practice,” Jimin orders, directing the most obviously feigned look of shock his way that Jeongguk has ever seen. 

He groans. 

“I’m fucked. They're gonna know I told you.”

Jimin’s laughter kicks up again, and despite his predicament, Jeongguk can’t help but laugh as well. 

°•🎨🖌•°

With the end of school, Jeongguk feels a huge weight lifted off of his shoulders. Jimin passed the bar, they celebrated Namjoon's birthday the other day, and he just got done corresponding with Koreana Magazine. He’s scheduled to have his picture taken in a few days, his artwork of Jimin chosen to be featured in the spread, who is just as excited about it as Jeongguk is, if not more so.

"Artwork of me is going to be in a magazine next to my baby," he grins, flipping through old periodicals before glancing up at him.

"Everyone is going to see how talented you are."

"Maybe," Jeongguk answers with a small smile of his own, trying not to get his hopes up.

They make time to appreciate the weather when it's nice, knowing that autumn and winter are around the corner, even going so far as to invite the others to join them for a kind of picnic at the Han River. 

Taehyung and Seokjin arrive first. Then Namjoon and Sejoon, and finally Yoongi and Hoseok. They spread blankets out on the grass and then do the same for the food they’ve each brought, both Seokjin and Yoongi preparing what might as well be gourmet dishes.

It’s nice. They eat and catch up, and Jeongguk realizes he’s never had a group of friends that he feels comfortable with, knowing that Jimin is a big reason to thank for that, the man giving him another gift of introducing him to good, reliable people. 

After stuffing themselves full, a quiet descends, Yoongi and Hoseok sharing earpods, Namjoon pulling out a book while Sejoon writes in a notebook of his own, Seokjin and Taehyung quietly murmuring to themselves as they play a game on his handheld. 

Jeongguk looks at Jimin then, hands coming up to press just hard enough at the crooks of his elbows so that he collapses down, head cradled in his lap. 

“You could've just asked,” Jimin beams, and Jeongguk smiles down at him, carding his fingers through his soft black hair. 

It's getting long.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Always,” he murmurs with that pretty smile of his, and slowly Jeongguk lowers himself down until their lips meet, reminiscent of their first kiss, only their positions switched.  

The sound of Taehyung muttering near them reaches his ears on the breeze. 

“I told him he was in love with him.”

And then Seokjin’s placating tone. 

“I know you did, babe. I know you did.”

Jeongguk smiles against Jimin’s lips, and as the warmth of the sun beams down on them—the breeze making a mess of the long strands of his hair until it obstructs his view—he can’t help but think that life couldn’t get any better than this. 

°•🎨🖌•°

Only it does get better, because not long after the magazine featuring him and his artwork goes live, Jeongguk receives a lot of calls from numbers he doesn’t know. People are curious about him, making promises about investing their money and time so that he can keep doing what he loves, and they can buy his work.

Jeongguk is…thrilled, and overwhelmed, and both him and Namjoon develop a plan on how to move forward, their dream of owning a gallery becoming a reality before their eyes as they start looking into possible spaces and locations.  

Jimin in turn gets a response from every legal office he contacted, eager to take him on as he starts his career, impressed with his grades and test scores. 

Everything feels like it’s falling into place, and Jeongguk doesn’t take his good fortune for granted. 

But as both him and Namjoon get busier, meeting with banks and investors, touring buildings and meeting with lawyers and realtors, Jimin becomes busy as well, starting his new job in a legal office that requires long hours. He describes his position to Jeongguk as a kind of intern, saddled with all the work and research that the practicing lawyers and partners don’t want to deal with.

“But at least I’m getting paid," he says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his tired eyes. 

°•🎨🖌•°

Jeongguk manages to get Jimin’s birthday out of Namjoon—who offers the information easily—and as October thirteenth approaches, Jeongguk practices until he’s able to ask him what his plans for that day are without giving himself away.

“Sorry, baby,” he answers distractedly, face tucked in a binder filled with whatever case notes he’s working on. “I have work.”

“But it’s a Saturday.” Jeongguk pouts, his carefully constructed plans slipping between his fingers. 

“Yeah, there’s this case going to trial soon, and one of the lawyers from the opposing side accidentally sent our office a bunch of incriminating information that I get to sift through, so…I’ll probably be gone most of the day.”

“Oh…okay then.”

It’s fine. Jeongguk can give someone else the tickets he bought to the Dance performance that Hoseok’s group is putting on. The one Jimin’s been talking about for weeks. And then he can cancel the reservation he made at the nice restaurant downtown. No big deal…

It’s not his place to be disappointed, after all he didn’t even tell Jimin when his birthday was until almost after the fact. But still, he had hoped that they could at least spend the day together, the two of them being so busy lately.

But just because he’ll be gone most of the day doesn’t mean that Jeongguk can’t still surprise him. That he can’t make it special—

Reinvigorated, he vows to do just that. 

°•🎨🖌•°

It’s almost ten o’clock at night when Jeongguk hears the knock on his door and he perks up, slipping from his stool so that he can quickly answer it. 

His smile falters at how beat Jimin looks on the other side, dark circles around his eyes, skin almost pale in the light. Immediately Jeongguk pulls him in, taking his shoulder bag—which weighs a ton—and guiding his coat off of his arms. 

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” Jimin murmurs. “Just tired and sore. Been hunched over a desk for too long.”

“Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m okay. Ordered takeout a couple of hours ago.”

Jeongguk nods. The kimchi-jjigae and samgyeopsal he made for him won’t go to waste. He can reheat it tomorrow, or pack it for Jimin’s lunch when he gets called away again. 

He kneels down, removing Jimin’s shoes for him before leading him to the couch. 

“Relax for a second. I’ll be right back.”

Jimin hums in response, and Jeongguk goes into the bathroom where one of his surprises awaits. Turning the hot water on, he monitors the temperature until it's perfect and then fills it up, adding in bubbles and a delicious smelling bath bomb before going back out to find Jimin nearly dozing off. 

“Come on, baby,” he urges, pulling Jimin up and off the cushions, the other following, though his feet drag. 

When they enter the bathroom together this time, Jeongguk watches as his eyes widen, lips parting in disbelief.

“What’s all this?”

“Do you like it? I bought it online.”

The collapsible travel bath barely fits in the tiny space, but it’s worth it for the look of emotion that crosses Jimin’s features. 

“You did this for me?”

Jeongguk nods, an emotional smile tugging at his lips when their eyes meet. 

“Thought it would help relax your sore muscles. You’ve been working so hard lately.”

Jimin stares at him a moment longer before he brings their lips together, the kiss slow and sweet, their noses bumping when they part. 

“Here. Let me help you.”  

Jeongguk undresses him, careful not to wrinkle his button down shirt and pressed trousers, folding every piece of clothing and setting it aside until Jimin is bare before him. Holding his right hand in his own, he helps him to sink down into the hot bubbly water, the smaller man letting out an appreciative moan. 

“Is the temperature okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Jimin murmurs, eyes slipping closed, head tilting back over the lip of the tub. 

Grabbing the small folding stool he set off to the side earlier, Jeongguk sits down directly behind him, rolling up his sleeves and dipping his hands in the soapy water before bringing them to Jimin’s shoulders. As soon as he starts massaging, Jimin’s head lolls, another noise of appreciation leaving him. 

“What did I do to deserve all this?” he wonders, leaning forward to give Jeongguk better access. 

“What don’t you do,” Jeongguk asks with a frown. “You work hard everyday. You take care of me.”

“You take care of me too,” he grins. “You work hard too. I gotta step up my game now.”

Jeongguk snorts, easing the tension in Jimin’s shoulders, thumbs framing the uppermost moon tattoo.

“You deserve to be pampered,” he whispers, hands trailing down Jimin’s arms before moving back to his neck, fingers burying themselves in the strands of his hair. “Say it.”

“I deserve to be pampered,” he recites obediently, and Jeongguk hums, pleased. 

“Exactly. Now tilt your head back so I can get your hair wet.”

Jimin complies again, and Jeongguk is careful not to get any water in his eyes as he drenches every strand, lathering it up with shampoo afterwards. Jeongguk washes both his hair and his body, letting Jimin soak until the water gets cold before helping him to get out, making sure he’s wrapped up in a warm towel. He’s already laid out comfortable clothes for him—his clothes—and when he brings him into bed he snuggles and pulls him close, whispering in his ear while he lifts the covers over them. 

“You left one of your necklaces under the pillow.”

“Did I?”

Jimin’s hand blindly reaches for it, disappearing under the cushion he rests his head on, sliding back out with a delicate silver chain grasped between his fingers. 

His tone is confused when he brings it up to look at it. 

“This isn’t mine.”

“It is,” Jeongguk insists, holding his hand until the dangling chain stills, the silver key attached to it glinting in the barely-there lighting. “This is a key to my place," he reveals, trying to push down his nerves when he adds, “Happy birthday, Jimin-ah.”

The smaller man turns in his arms, gaze stricken, and Jeongguk hurries to explain. 

“I know it’s not much, but you’re here more often than you aren’t, and I want to keep it that way. I want you to be able to let yourself in even if I’m busy or gone. I want to come home and see you in your favorite spot on the couch, or working at the island. I want you to be here as much as you want, anytime you want to be.”

Jimin’s eyes mist over, and Jeongguk almost panics, not wanting to see him cry.

“Who told you it was my birthday,” he warbles, and Jeongguk immediately confesses. 

“Namjoon told me.”

Hopefully he doesn’t get too upset that he sold him out. 

A wavering smile makes it across Jimin’s lips as he holds up the key again, one tear slipping past his eyes. 

“I didn’t want to say anything cause I knew I had to work…and even though we didn't get to spend all of it together, you’ve made it one of the best birthdays I’ve ever had.”

It’s Jeongguk’s turn to become emotional, filled with a warmth that only Jimin can instill in him. 

“That’s all I want, Jimin-ah,” he admits. “Just wanna make you happy.”

“You do,” Jimin assures, tone firm as they gaze into each other’s eyes. “Every single day, you do.”

Jeongguk’s arms tighten around him, foreheads touching, noses sliding against each other. 

“Love you baby.”

“Love you too, Jeongguk-ah. Will you put it on for me?”

Accepting the necklace he unclasps the delicate chain, centering it around his neck and securing it with a kiss to his ear. 

They fall asleep inseparably intertwined, Jimin's hand gripping onto the key.

°•🎨🖌•°

Unfortunately, it isn’t just his own birthday or Hoseok’s Dance event that he's forced to skip. He also can't make it to Yoongi's Halloween party or Seokjin’s birthday. And then it's Christmas, and Taehyung’s birthday as well where he's absent. He misses new years, parties, get-togethers and hang outs. 

Jeongguk smiles through it all, ensuring everyone that Jimin wishes he were there. That he misses them, but he can tell that everyone is a bit tired of hearing it, wondering what’s going on with their friend. How he’s doing. How he’s really doing.

But Jeongguk doesn’t have any answers. 

No one said being a lawyer came easy. 

All Jeongguk can do is be supportive, and be there for Jimin when he can. Pack his lunch, remind him to eat and wear a coat since it’s so cold. He does everything possible to make the other’s life easier, all the while not realizing how hard it is on him to not be able to see Jimin as much as he'd like. To go out with their friends, who are wrapped up in their significant others while he is alone.

He’s been feeling alone a lot in the last few weeks, and then he feels guilty once he recognizes that he feels that way. Because he’s busy too. Namjoon and him are finalizing the paperwork on a place, and it’s everything Jeongguk could ever want, but…

Jimin hasn’t even seen it yet, and it feels strange to have two major parts of his life feel so separate. He keeps trying to get him down there, but everytime they make plans, something comes up and Jimin is whisked back to the office. 

He doesn’t have a right to feel disappointed. They’re both chasing their dreams, and though things are hard now, they just have to hang in there a little longer and it’ll get easier. 

It has to.

°•🎨🖌•°

Jeongguk is buzzing. Figuratively, he’s not actually drunk, he’s just excited. After months of back and forth, paperwork and preparation, he is now a co-owner of a gallery, and tonight is the grand opening. 

He’s painted until his fingers have gone numb, doing commissions for interested parties, investors, and newly made clients, money coming in faster than he knows what to do with as he works to help fill up the space until they can generate enough buzz to get more artists interested.

They’re displaying Taehyung’s pictures as well, along with some works from a few other classmates Jeongguk went to school with. 

He’s riddled with nerves, and outside there’s already a crowd, Jeongguk catching sight of both Yoongi and Hoseok standing with Seokjin. Namjoon and Taehyung wait inside with him as they do some last minute preparations, his hands so clammy he has to keep wiping them on his slacks, pulling the collar away from his throat. 

They’re five minutes away from opening the doors when Jeongguk gets a call, his excitement escalating when he sees that it’s Jimin. It feels like they haven’t seen each other in ages, and Jeongguk’s giddiness seeps into his tone when he answers. 

“Hey baby, are you here yet?”

There’s no answer, and Jeongguk pulls his phone away from his ear to make sure he didn’t accidentally disconnect the call. 

He didn’t. 

“You there Jimin-ah?”

There’s an indrawn breath, and immediately Jeongguk’s heart sinks. 

“I’m here.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Jimin hesitates again before pouring out his explanation, grief filling his voice. 

“I’m so sorry baby. I tried to leave, but I was told I have to stay late tonight. I’m not gonna be able to make it.”

Jeongguk feels like his world comes crashing down, eyes misting over with stupid tears that he wants to curse at, hating how broken and childish he sounds when he says, “But it’s my gallery opening.”

He remembers the conversation they had while he was doing that first acrylic piece, back when he still didn't know what Jimin looked like.

"Invite me to your gallery, yeah?"

"I promise you'll be the first one I tell."

"Then I promise to be the first one to see it."

It feels like it was so long ago—

“I know, baby,” Jimin answers, sounding torn apart himself. “And there’s no place I’d rather be in the world right now, I swear.”

“I know.”

Jeongguk knows . 

But he feels a bit numb, because on the most important day of his career, Jimin won’t be there to share it with him. 

“It’s okay,” he forces himself to say, wiping at his eyes and ignoring the concerned looks Namjoon and Taehyung throw his way. “Maybe when you’re finished you can come down? We’ll probably be closed, but I could give you a tour?”

“I’d like that,” Jimin answers, sounding wrecked. 

But Jeongguk can’t comfort him. 

“Listen,” he nearly chokes, trying not to sniffle, or be overly obvious with how upset he is. “We’re about to open the doors, so I have to go, but I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Jimin answers quickly, voice stuttering. “I’ll see you later.”

Jeongguk ends the call without another word, not sure what to say, and he feels almost embarrassed when he faces the others, the looks they wear enough of a confirmation that they already know what's happened. 

Namjoon looks disappointed, Taehyung looks upset, which doesn’t help elevate Jeongguk’s mood. They’re gonna open in less than five minutes. 

His dream is supposed to be coming true. 

Clapping his hands, Jeongguk tries to force a smile. 

“Almost time,” he declares, the two making a worthy attempt to humor him. 

When the doors open, Jeongguk does his best to forget about it, busy trying not to have an anxiety attack over being social with people he doesn’t know, their interest genuinely making him excited as he hands out his personal card and accepts several from others. Waiters pass out horderves and champagne, and Jeongguk very firmly tells himself not to drink away his emotional pain. 

After about twenty minutes he says fuck it, reaching for a glass when his eyes land on a familiar form.

He knows that body. He's painted and sketched it in every pose imaginable, and he moves as if possessed, holding his breath until the person turns around and he locks eyes with Jimin. They stare at each other from across the room, moisture making Jimin’s eyes shine in the light, reflected in Jeongguk’s own gaze as they fill up with tears. 

They meet each other in the middle of the gallery, and Jeongguk is so overcome with emotion he nearly breaks down in front of everyone at his own opening. 

“You’re here,” he whispers, a barely there sound that Jimin manages to catch. 

“Took me a while, and I wasn’t the first,” he adds, bringing up the same memory Jeongguk was reminded of earlier, “but I’m here.”

“What about the office?”

“Fuck the office,” he declares, lip wobbling. “I couldn’t miss your big night, baby.”

Something that sounds like a whimper loosens from the back of his throat, and before he can think better of it, Jeongguk wraps Jimin up in his arms, hugging him so tight it’s almost suffocating, but Jimin grabs onto him with just as much desperation, body trembling.

He feels happy and guilty all at once, because Jimin is here, but because he is, he had to sacrifice his dream for Jeongguk’s, and he almost breaks down at the very thought. But Jimin seems to read where his head is at so effortlessly, and immediately reassures him. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he keeps repeating like it's inconsequential. “Don’t worry, Jeongguk-ah. We’ll figure it out.”

Jeongguk nods into his neck, believing more than anything that they will.

"Look at all this," the smaller man whispers in awe. "Look at what you've accomplished."

Jeongguk gives a watery laugh, shaking his head.

"Couldn't've done it alone."

"I bet you could've," Jimin argues, cupping his cheeks, thumbs sweeping under his eyes to wipe away his tears. "You're so talented, baby. I'm so proud of you."

Jeongguk's own hands come up, grasping Jimin's wrists as even more tears fill his eyes, everything but them fading away.

"I'm so glad you're here," he confesses, the smile Jimin gifts him with is almost blinding.

"Me too," he breathes, this deep genuine emotion laced in his tone that twists at Jeongguk's heart. "Now come on. I want you to show me everything."

Lacing their fingers together, feeling as if his very spirit has been lifted, Jeongguk does just that.

°•🎨🖌•°

Jimin doesn’t get fired from the office, but he does get slapped with a large warning and a lecture, reminded that he’s on a probationary period and that no other walk-offs will be tolerated. If Jeongguk had it his way, he’d call them and unload a piece of his mind, but Jimin waves the idea away with tired limbs and dark-ringed eyes, a permanent fixture at the island counter when he’s home, head buried in his oversized binder, a pen in one hand, highlighter in the other. 

Looking at him now is disconcerting, because the usual light in his eyes has diminished, his laughter no longer echoing in the open space of the studio. It’s been so long since they’ve been intimate, Jimin is always too tired and Jeongguk understands that, never once bringing it up. But it’s been longer still since they’ve been able to spend time together—apart from when Jimin showed up at the gallery, though that was technically work—and that's what he really misses. The way they could become tangled up in each other, everything else an afterthought.

It feels isolating, and lonely, like Jimin is there physically but mentally he's somewhere else. He’s slowly slipping away, or that's what it feels like, at least. Turning into someone Jeongguk doesn’t yet recognize. 

One night, Jeongguk wakes disoriented, the bedsheets cold on Jimin’s side—as they usually are—the soft light in the kitchen the only illumination in the apartment. Jimin is still at the counter, and even though he tries to be quiet, Jeongguk can tell that he’s crying, shoulders shaking, breath shuddering with each exhale. 

His heart breaks, and silently he gets up, avoiding the creaky floorboards as he goes to him, hand reaching out to his chin so that he can lift it until their eyes can meet, Jimin’s red and puffy, wide with the shock of being discovered.

He keeps his voice gentle when he asks, even though all he yearns to do is comfort. 

“Is this what you want to keep doing, Jimin-ah? Is this what’s going to make you happy?”

“No,” he admits easily, surprising even Jeongguk with his bluntness. “But I’m afraid to quit. I’ve already put so much into it."

“Just because you move on doesn’t mean you’ve quit,” he softly assures. “It means you tried .”

Jimin cries harder at that, his shoulders shaking as these heartbreaking sobs fill the air.

“Come here baby,” Jeongguk hums, bringing him into his arms and rocking him in an attempt to soothe, swaying them back and forth. “You don’t have to stop completely. Take a break. Reevaluate some things and come back to it when you’re ready.”

Slowly, Jimin calms down before he nods, wiping the tears off of his cheeks. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he promises, repeating Jimin’s sentiment when they were at the gallery. “But you’ve done enough for now, yeah? Come to bed with me.”

Nodding again, Jimin allows himself to be led, Jeongguk lowering him down onto the mattress before following, pulling their bodies flush together and yanking the blankets up over them. He rubs Jimin’s back until he finally falls asleep, these heartbreaking little hitches of breath still escaping past his parted lips. 

Jeongguk stares at the exposed pipes that run the length of the ceiling as he continues to massage his back, aching for the man, always taking it hard whenever he sees him upset. But on the other side of that, he's also content, because after so long of falling asleep alone, he finally has Jimin in his arms again.

°•🎨🖌•°

Jimin puts his notice in the next day, giving the company ample time to find a replacement, but Jeongguk already knows it’s a step in the right direction, his eyes a little bit brighter, shoulders not so slumped. When he’s finally free, Jeongguk holds a celebration, inviting all of their friends over and nearly making Jimin cry with how much he’s missed everyone, his fervent apologies being waved away as he’s pulled into hug after hug after hug. 

When the night winds down, and everyone goes home one by one, Jeongguk makes love to him, kissing away Jimin’s tears with as much care as he shows him, taking his time as he opens him up and fills him inside, knowing how long it’s been. 

“I won’t break,” Jimin tries to complain, but Jeongguk can tell that he loves it. 

“I remember,” he murmurs against his ear, hips thrusting in slow and deep, hitting that spot just right and watching the way Jimin's lashes flutter, fingers twitch, delicious thighs tightening around him. “But it’s been so long, baby. I’m gonna take my time and savour you.”

He turns Jimin into an incoherent mess, the build-up so drawn out that it’s almost excruciating, but Jeongguk vows to make up for lost time, not letting him rest even after they come together. Jeongguk takes him in every way he can, and when Jimin is too tired, he gets him hard again and lets him lay back while Jeongguk rides him slow and deep. 

When they finally sink into the mattress, sheets unsalvageable, the sun is coming up, cresting over the silhouette of Seoul while Jeongguk’s whispers of ‘I love you’ follow Jimin down into sleep. 

°•🎨🖌•°

It’s easy to tell that Jimin becomes restless relatively quickly. He's happier, but not at all used to staying at home with nothing to do. So when he broaches the subject at dinner one night, detailing how he’s considering helping Hoseok with dance classes at the studio he teaches in from three to five everyday, Jeongguk is enthusiastic about it, encouraging him to give it a try. 

Jimin beams, the support making him shine the way he used to, and Jeongguk feels hope kindle inside his belly that this will be just what he needs. 

And it turns out that it is.

Jimin loves teaching dance. He takes to it like a fish to water, Hoseok teaching him choreography in the morning before they teach class in the afternoon, and he more than appreciates the help he gets with his students. 

It’s the perfect match, and Jimin loves it so much that Jeongguk almost cries, his radiant personality restored as he’s once again happy and fulfilled. 

“What?” he asks, smirking one day when he catches him.

“What?” Jeongguk repeats, feigning confusion. 

“You’re staring at me.”

“Am not.”

“You’re literally staring at me right now.”

“You’re glowing again,” he admits, approaching Jimin as he prepares dinner for the two of them. 

He insisted since Jeongguk made it yesterday.

“I love every part of you, but when you’re happy, I feel it right here.”

Jimin watches as his hand covers his heart, smile widening when he moves up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist as he inhales that ambrosia scent along the back of his neck.

“I am happy,” he reveals, making Jeongguk’s heart clench with joy, “and you’re a big part of that.”

He kisses his ear, shaking his head. 

“I only did a little. You had to do all the hard parts.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“We might have that in common.”

Jimin snickers, turning around in his arms and placing a sweet kiss on his lips before deepening it, Jeongguk pushing forward slightly until his back arches. His hands snake down then, lifting him up onto one of the only available surfaces of the counter, Jimin's thighs opening up for him to allow better access.

“I think you should take me to bed,” he proposes against his lips, a wicked curl to them.

“What about your dinner?”

“It’ll keep.”

“Well in that case,” Jeongguk lifts him up and off of the island, carrying him towards their bed while Jimin giggles the entire way, wrapping his legs around his waist.

°•🎨🖌•°

Jimin blossoms as he continues to help Hoseok at the studio, and he even manages to get a time slot of his own that he uses to teach Geomdo, his features bright every night he comes home to tell Jeongguk about some of the cute kids in his class and how hard they try, Jeongguk captivated by his radiance. 

Meanwhile, his gallery is taking off, artists and clients reaching out, providing Jeongguk with a constant stream of work and projects. 

Some of his favorite times are when Jimin comes down with him while they’re closed, and together they wander the halls, taking in new additions while Jimin always proclaims Jeongguk’s pieces to be the best.

Everything is going well—

—until their lawyers send them a letter that details that with the success of the gallery and the time they’re putting into the venture, their fee has now doubled. 

“We don’t have that kind of money,” Jeongguk groans, pressing his fingers into the closed lids of his eyes. “We need to find new lawyers, and fast.”

“I could be your lawyer,” Jimin shrugs while he reads on the couch, like it's no big deal. 

“What?”

“Yeah. I’d just be looking over your taxes, contracts, licensing, advising you on government regulations, intellectual property rights, collective bargaining agreements and making sure no one can sue you.” He shrugs again. “Easy.”

Jeongguk gapes at him. 

“You’re so fucking hot right now.”

Jimin snorts, eyes still on his book, and Jeongguk slips from his stool and slinks towards him. 

“Park Jimin.”

He laughs outright, still refusing to look at him.

“Will you be my lawyer?”

“Can you afford me?” he teases just as Jeongguk climbs into his lap, gently urging him to set the book aside. 

“I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

“That’s a tempting offer,” Jimin hums, eyes stuck on Jeongguk’s lips, hands coming up to grip his ass.

“And do you accept?”

He acts as if he’s considering it before a pretty smile takes over his plump lips. 

“Call Namjoon and tell him you found yourselves a new lawyer.”

°•🎨🖌•°

"Are you sure?" Jeongguk asks, looking over the designs he painted. "You have to be sure."

"For the one hundredth time," Jimin groans, "I'm sure."

"Okay," Jeongguk answers, feeling skeptical. "It's just—it's permanent."

"That's kind of the point."

Jimin suddenly frowns, a pout taking over his lips—

Those lips…

"Is this because you don't want to get yours?"

"What?"

"Because if that's the case, just say it."

"Of course I wanna get mine, are you kidding me?"

Jimin's hand comes up to frame his jaw, squeezing his cheeks and forcing his mouth to pucker.

"Then stop trying to talk me out of it."

"Mmkay."

Jimin beams before kissing him, taking the designs and walking unhesitatingly into the shop, Jeongguk following after. 

When they come back out again almost two hours later, Jimin is practically bouncing on the tips of his toes with excitement. 

"I wanna see, I wanna see."

Jeongguk holds up a finger, forcing his voice to be stern.

"We said we'd wait till we get home."

It's hard to stay strong in the face of that pout, but somehow he manages.

"Fine, let's hurry then, I'm so excited."

When they do make it back to the studio, Jimin practically attacks Jeongguk, trying to rip his clothes off, making him splutter and laugh. 

"Calm down, menace. Show me yours first."

Jimin happily obliges, lifting his shirt up with one hand and pulling the waistband of his pants down with the other, revealing red swollen skin and the bright ink of a new tattoo on his lower abdomen.

It's a paintbrush, but not just any paintbrush.

It's Jeongguk's favorite round brush, accurate down to the indents in the wood at the end where his teeth have chewed on it. The tattoo is done in a vibrant watercolor style, with paint dripping down from the sleek bristles to form small looping words that look almost as if they were actually painted onto his skin.

My artist, it reads.

Jeongguk's fingers twitch, itching to touch, but then Jimin lets go of his clothes, the shirt falling to hide the design he created.

"Now yours."

Slowly, Jeongguk pulls down the collar of his black turtleneck until his own tattoo can be seen.

There on his neck, in the same style as Jimin's, is a perfect copy of his plump, perfect lips, as if he left a kiss just below the mole on the side of his throat, the words My Muse following the curve of the shape.

Jimin gasps, hand coming up as if he wants to trace it before he remembers himself. There's a familiar glint in his eyes, one filled with desire, and Jeongguk already knows where this is going.

"We have to be careful," he warns, and Jimin agrees with a hum, clearly not listening. 

"You think we'll regret this later?" He wonders, right before he invades his mouth with his tongue.

"Maybe," Jeongguk concedes once he pulls back slightly, ripping his shirt up over his head. "Might seem silly a few years down the line. But I'll never regret you. "

Their eyes meet when Jimin replies.

"I'll never regret you either."

They come together after that, hissing into each other's mouths when they do, in fact, forget to be careful.

°•🎨🖌•°

"Hyung?" Jeongguk asks tentatively over the phone one day, the sound of familiar video game music reaching his ears. "How did you ask Taehyung to move in with you?"

Seokjin is distracted when he answers, his focus clearly on whatever it is he's playing. 

"I don't know, I just asked him. Why?"

Jeongguk hums in a noncommittal answer. 

"Just curious."

"You're so bad at lying. You wanna ask Jimin to move in with you, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Jeongguk-ah. He's gonna say yes. He practically lives at your place already."

"I know, I've just been waiting for the right time, and I wanted it to be special—"

"It will be special, no matter how you ask him. Trust me."

"Yeah, but how did you ask Taehyung?"

Seokjin sighs.

"I made a stupid joke."

Jeongguk's brow furrows when he offers nothing further.

"That's it? You made a stupid joke?"

"No. I made a stupid joke and he laughed. It kind of just came out after that. I said move in with me and he said yes."

"...That's not special at all," Jeongguk murmurs, purposefully trying to get a rise out of him and grinning when it works.

"Yah, you brat, let's see how you do it then, huh! Not special," he mutters to himself, and Jeongguk can't help but smile, so clearly able to imagine the way he's probably shaking his head right now, the older man threatening to hang up on him until he placates him with an apology.

Though the laughter in his voice ruins it.

°•🎨🖌•°

Everything feels settled. More than it has in a long time, their lives moving into a kind of routine that Jeongguk revels in. He gets to see Jimin everyday, he even gets to work with him now that he represents the gallery, excitement clear in his voice whenever he talks about articles and laws that Jeongguk doesn’t fully understand but makes an effort to because it makes Jimin happy.   

One night over dinner, Jeongguk listens as he talks about his day, mentioning the students that show promise in dance, or the little girl who told him that she’s going to be the greatest swordsman in the world, which divulvs into him telling the story of how he told his mom the exact same thing when he was that age, and it’s just—

He’s so beautiful. Eyes crinkling into that genuine smile, lips pulled taut as he can barely keep his laughter contained, and it just…kind of comes tumbling out.

“Move in with me.”

Jimin’s giggles cease, lids wide as he takes him in, as if unsure if he heard correctly. 

“What?”

“Move in with me,” Jeongguk repeats, louder this time, more sure of himself. “You spend the majority of your time here anyways, and I want it to be permanent. I want your stuff to be here mixed in with my own. I want your pictures on the walls and your little figurines on the shelves, and I want us to come home to each other every single night. Move in with me.”

Jimin’s mouth forms words, but he’s quiet for several seconds before he gives his answer. 

“Okay.”

Jeongguk releases the breath he had no idea he was holding.

“Really?”

“Really. But it’ll probably have to wait till this weekend. Someone just gave me some new contracts to go over,” he grins, raising a pointed brow at him.

Jeongguk’s own mouth spreads into a smile so wide it hurts. 

“That’s fine. We can get the guys to help.”

They beam at each other from across the island like fools, food forgotten, smiles never once wavering. 

°•🎨🖌•°

On Saturday night, after Seokjin is done gloating over the way Jeongguk asked Jimin to move in with him once he hears about it, and all the guys have left—leaving behind neatly labeled boxes and stacked furniture—Jeongguk guides Jimin down onto their bed, calling it as such. 

“These are our sheets. Our blankets.”

“Our pillows,” Jimin chimes in, hand wrapped around a bottle. “Our lube.”

“Our space. Our home,” Jeongguk continues, smiling at the way Jimin shivers against him. 

“Say that last part again.”

“Our home,” he obliges, kissing his lips. 

“I like the sound of that.”

“Good, cause I’m not letting you go now.”

“Oh no,” Jimin monotones. “How terrible.”

Jeongguk's hand slips inside his pants to wrap around his leaking cock as punishment, grinning when it makes the smaller man gasp and pout.

“No fair. I’m useless when you touch me.”

“You’re going to be useless for the rest of your life, then.”

“Yeah? You want to stay with me that long?”

Jeongguk bares his throat to him then, Jimin placing an open mouthed kiss right over the tattooed replica of his lips, making him tremble.

“And longer still,” he whispers, turning pliant in his arms. 

They make love on their bed next to their open windows, under the light of the full moon, and again Jeongguk’s fingers get that familiar itch to reach for a pencil, a paintbrush, something that’ll help him capture this moment on paper or canvas.

But he pushes it down for now, knowing that Jimin isn’t going anywhere. That they have time, and allows himself to be swallowed by the moment. To lose himself in it as surely as he loses himself in Jimin’s body. 

He can always paint him tomorrow. 

Notes:

I can't believe it's over. I really can't. This is the first chaptered fic I've ever completed so it means a lot to me. I honestly just wanted to write something for myself, something that featured two awkward and oblivious boys falling in love with each other, that's it. No real hardships or conflict. And I'm so surprised it's received the love that it has, and that it's resonated with so many people. I was only able to finish this because of all of you. Every hit, kudo and lovely comment has helped me to get to this point. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you for those who took a chance and supported an ongoing fic, and thank you to those who will support it now that it's complete. Until the next one

 

Madalynn xx

 

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