The class was quiet today, I think everyone was rather chilled out as it was Monday and college students were known for partying quite a bit. However you and Yoongi weren’t really in that scene as often as your look suggested. Sure, you had the style and the confidence that suggested you were those outgoing, lively freshman but truthfully, most weekends you spent in classroom. Not in a boring way.
The best part about your school wasn’t the hippie art teachers from the 1960’s or even the amazing selection of restaurants in a mile radius, it was that classrooms were art studios, and they were open 24/7. Not to mention everything in the rooms were free for use! Well, free until you graduate and you’re drowning in student debt for the rest of your life.
You often wondered why Yoongi even came with you, he didn’t talk much and he didn’t even take advantage of the not-so-free gear. He brought his notebook and pencil. He sat at a desk facing you. He drew. This was typically how Yoongi spent most of his days but you questioned why he did it with you, if anyone at all. Not that you were complaining. Yoongi—though not a man of many words—wasn’t shy of friends or rather, people who wished they were his friends because they thought he was cool. Shouldn’t he be doing something with them instead?
Though you two seemed very close, and in some senses you were, you had only met Yoongi this year. All you really knew about him was that he’s from Daegu, Korea, and he’s in school on a full scholarship. He didn’t talk much about his family, only his grandfather who apparently loved music. He also has an older brother that he calls every now and then. They seem to have animated conversations which always leaves Yoongi smiling and you like that because his smile is a favorite sight of yours.
He didn’t have to talk much for you to know him though. Like now, while you painted aimlessly on a canvas until your mind came up with something, he watched you. He watched you shamelessly, his eyes locked on your face. He mouth was twisted in to a smirk and that was one unspoken thing you already knew about Min Yoongi: he’s observant. He asked what you’re doing: he’s curious. When you responded you were making abstract art, he chuckled and shrugged: he’s nonchalant.
“What, does abstract art not please you?”
“It’s lines and splatters, man.” He feigned a look of disgust.
“What kind of artist are you?” You scoffed playfully.
“The kind who draws things he loves.” He said in such a deep tone you wondered what popped into his head when he said this.
“Well, how do you know I don’t love lines and splatters?”
“You do you.” He smirked. His pencil was at it once again, his eyes fixed on the paper. Suddenly, you heard a telephone ring and Yoongi jumped. He took his phone out of his pocket, a smile immediately finding its way to his face. “It’s my hyung. I gotta take this.”
“Tell him I say hi!” You called.
“Always!” He said as he exited the room.
When you were sure he was gone, you slowly lowered your paintbrush. Alright, now you knew this was wrong on so many levels, but you were itching to know. What is it Min Yoongi is always drawing? What does he love?
You peeked your head around the doorway to see an absorbed and chuckling Yoongi. Perfect. You snuck over to the desk, flipping open the book that had previously been closed. What you found, to your dismay, was utterly anticlimactic.
Yoongi loves landscapes?
That’s all there was, fences and mountains and trees, until suddenly, your finger turned one more page.
There it was. There you were. There was the outline of your jawline in pencil, the shading of your under eye bags somehow sketched beautifully, and there was even a glisten crafted in to your two dimensional eye. You let your fingers trace this for a moment, your heartbeat increasing, before you flipped the page. Another you, this one laughing and still beautiful. There were over twenty you’s, each one more radiant than the last, until you stumbled upon one of you in the outfit you wore now. A paintbrush played between your fingertips as your penciled frame leaned over an easel filled with… lines and splatters.
So Min Yoongi loved you?
“What are you doing?” A voice suddenly questioned from the doorway. You jumped, looking up to find his unreadable expression. Neither of you moved.
“You sketch what you love?” You asked, genuinely.
Yoongi licked his lips nervously, shoving his hand into his pocket. You smiled, feeling a blush creep on to your cheeks. Yoongi somehow mustered the courage to walk towards you, leaning over his last unfinished piece.
“My butt isn’t that big you know.” You said softly. Yoongi chuckled.
“Trust me it is.” It was your turn to laugh. Your eyes met his, the gummy smile on his face and the nervous glint in his intense gaze.
“I love your sketches."
"I would hope so.” There was a small silence. In this silence, your hand found his. In this silence, you could almost hear both of your hearts pounding against your rib cages. In this silence, your eyes exchanged another one of the unspoken understandings: he’s in love.