"No," Yoongi says, an air of confession to it even as he smiles. It's flattering to think of how many pictures there might already be of him in Jungkook's sketchbook. He knew there were some, but the way he says it, it sounds like more than Yoongi was already imagining. That, somehow, feels like something even more solid than the words Jungkook uses to describe him; he spends time with his art, focuses on it.
It's odd, Yoongi thinks. Even when he knows how attractive Jungkook finds him, knows how much they love each other, it still catches him off guard sometimes to be reminded of it.
"But it's just sitting. It can't be that hard. Which way should we head?"
no subject
"No," Yoongi says, an air of confession to it even as he smiles. It's flattering to think of how many pictures there might already be of him in Jungkook's sketchbook. He knew there were some, but the way he says it, it sounds like more than Yoongi was already imagining. That, somehow, feels like something even more solid than the words Jungkook uses to describe him; he spends time with his art, focuses on it.
It's odd, Yoongi thinks. Even when he knows how attractive Jungkook finds him, knows how much they love each other, it still catches him off guard sometimes to be reminded of it.
"But it's just sitting. It can't be that hard. Which way should we head?"