Something pulls tight at Yoongi's stomach and all he wants is to lean over and kiss his boyfriend, and, for a moment, there's a spike of bitterness, knowing he can't, not safely. It isn't fair. They deserve to be as disgustingly affectionate as all those other couples. But there are too many people around as they make their way back to the hotel, and Yoongi has to settle for letting go of Jungkook's hand to slip his arm around his waist.

"I mean, isn't the real thing always just a tiny bit better?" he asks. "With all art. Can't kiss a sketch. Can't really hold it either. Doesn't mean it's not beautiful." Hobbyist or not, he sees talent in Jungkook's work. Maybe he'll never make his living as an artist, but Yoongi sees beauty in it anyway. It's not very practical, true, but art for art's sake matters. If he could make a living off his music, he would, but he'll keep playing all his life even if he never makes a dime off of it. Nothing could stop him. And maybe Jungkook doesn't have just one thing he's like that about, but Yoongi's always admired that, too, in its way, that he could pick up so many things so readily.